And when the door clicks shut, the tears come in earnest because I know that he changed me and I changed him. We’ll never be the same, but maybe that’s okay.
I bet the horses will be beautiful.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Ridley
“YOU READY?” GRAY asks, leaning in the doorway of our new apartment. Dad threatened to cut her off, but Gray called his bluff and things are mostly fine. I think Gray’s even getting glorified child support now too, but I don’t ask.
It took a little while for a bed to open up at Greenwild Acres, the ridiculously bougie therapeutic equine facility my sister found that specializes in teens with clinical depression and anxiety disorders. They don’t just load you up on medication there, but that is part of it, and they’ve already prescribed some in coordination with my new doctor. I was always really weird about having to take stuff, but it actually does seem to help.
Greenwild Acres is located on a sprawling horse farm just outside of Boston, which is where Gray and I live now, and I’ve been doing outpatient services there while I waited for a bed. Everybody is pretty cool so far. I’m nervous about going inpatient for the next six-plus weeks, but I feel hopeful somehow too.
Plus, they have a skate park there, and I can bring my board, which is awesome—except they’ll keep it locked up at first because skate privileges need to be earned. I know I’m lucky to be able to go to a place like that; most people can’t. I told Gray I didn’t think I deserved all this special treatment, and she said it’s not about deserving it and to shut up and pack. So I did. But I still feel a little weird about it.
I miss Peak, like, so much, but my therapists have got me pretty well convinced that if we’re meant to be, we’ll be, and that the best thing I can do is get myself in order before I go charging back. I really hope someday we’re meant to be, but if not, I’m trying to just be grateful for the time we had.
I stare down at the words across the screen of my laptop. I’m on the admissions page for a community college near our apartment. If things go well, I might take a class this fall. My therapist said starting small was still a start, so.
I wait for the words APPLICATION RECEIVED to flash across the screen, and then I click it shut.
“I’m so ready.”
Gray twirls her keys around her finger and then tosses them in my direction. “You’re driving,” she says, and I catch them.
Because yeah, for once I am.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Jubilee
I WENT TO my first physical therapy session today, and it kind of sucked, so Jayla and Nikki are over trying to cheer me up. I’m a couple weeks post-op now, and everybody’s extremely happy with the results. I am too, I guess, but this big rush to get me back to playing just seems pointless now that I’ve missed my audition. When we told the conservatory what happened, they offered to reschedule to the end of the decision period, but I had to decline. I knew I wouldn’t be ready. Even if I was cleared, it would still take time to get back my technique.
Jayla shoves open my bedroom curtains and pushes up the window. The sounds of birds and traffic flood my room. The brightness is nice, but when it hits my cello case—highlighting a thin layer of dust—I swallow hard and go back to fiddling with the straps of my splint.
“Come on, Jubi, let’s go do something,” Jayla says, but I ignore her.
I don’t really do anything these days besides go to school and hang out in my room, and Jayla knows it. I haven’t been back to the shop since everything happened. Memories of Ridley cover every inch of it and I’m just not ready, and without that or my rehearsals and lessons, I find myself with a lot of free time. Too much, really.
Nikki flops down beside me while Jayla moves to open the second