A Five-Minute Life - Emma Scott Page 0,35

gray along the bottom with tall, rectangular columns rising from the gray into the blue. Outlines only, so far. Hints of what was to come. Whatever Thea was doing, it was too big for one session.

“Obelisks?” Rita murmured. “Is this Egyptian?”

“Don’t know,” I said.

Rita and Alonzo drifted away from the corner to work with other residents in the rec room. I busied myself straightening up but did a half-assed job, always keeping an eye out for any signs of distress in Thea. None. She was consumed. I doubted she’d have heard a window shattering.

And no reset. Holy shit…

“Rita.” I waved her over. “When was her last reset?”

“Before she came down.”

“That was what, twenty minutes ago? She’d have had three or four by now, right? But she…”

“Painted right through them.”

We shared triumphant glances. Thea painted for another thirty minutes straight and then Rita checked her watch.

“I hate to stop her, but I have to take her back,” Rita said. She stepped forward and touched Thea on the arm. “Miss Hughes?”

Thea froze and blinked. “How long has it been?”

“Two years,” Rita said. “The doctors are working on your case.”

Thea looked at the palette and brush in her hand, the smock over her drab clothes and back at the unfinished painting.

“I did this,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

“You did,” Rita said. “It’s beautiful and you can work on it again after a rest.”

Thea beamed and her body relaxed. No seizure.

I slumped back against a wall as relief coursed through my veins. Happiness so potent it felt illegal.

It worked.

“Awesome.” Thea set down her paints, removed the smock. “Not too shabby, right? I mean, it’s a start. Not done yet, obviously. Not at all. But I can come back and finish?”

“Of course,” Rita said. “Are you hungry? Would you like a snack?”

She thought for a second. “Starving.”

Rita shot me a smile as she led Thea out of the room. In a few minutes, everything she’s accomplished would be wiped clean.

But she can come back tomorrow. Or have an easel in her room. She doesn’t have to stop…

“Okay, cool your jets,” Alonzo said, chuckling. “I know where your thinking’s going, but let’s take it one step at a time.”

“She looked pretty happy, right?”

“She looked a lot happy.” He crossed his arms, not quite meeting my eye. “You know I run around this joint trying to keep it from falling apart. Because that’s important.”

I nodded.

“But that’s not all that’s important.” He patted me on the shoulder, meeting my eyes. “You did good, Jim.”

The father-son feeling came over me again, and I crossed my own arms over my chest, not sure if I wanted to keep it out or hold it in. “Thanks.”

Alonzo coughed and looked away. “Speaking of falling apart, I called a guy to fix the hole in the supply closet ages ago. Better go see what’s keeping him.”

He hurried out of the rec room and I turned to Thea’s painting. Tall, rough, rectangular cuboids reaching into a sky of blue. I didn’t know what it meant, but there were no word chains, no cries for help, and that made the unfinished painting a masterpiece to me.

Seven a.m. the next morning, and the heat was already intensifying. I entered the cool confines of the sanitarium to see Brett Dodson leaning over the front desk, laughing with Jules.

“How’s the night shift treating you?” she was asking.

“Boring as hell,” Brett said. “I’m scheduled for three weeks. Alonzo’s a dick.”

I let the front door slam shut.

They both turned. Brett’s face broke out into a grin as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“Hey, Jim. How’s it going?”

“Good morning, Jim,” Jules said. “Whatsa matter? Cat got your tongue?”

Brett coughed a laugh into his hand.

Fear, anger, and humiliation all tied up in a knot in my stomach, just like they had every day of my life when I was a kid. But I didn’t get this far from the high school bully bullshit just to have it start up all over again here.

“Cat got your tongue?” I said, dragging my glare between Brett to Jules. “That’s the best you got? You didn’t even stutter the t.”

“Hey,” Brett said. “It’s cool, man. I was just telling her what happened yesterday.” He turned to Jules. “Don’t make fun.”

Jules stared at him and burst out laughing.

He’s full of shit. They both are.

Inhale. Exhale.

“Enjoy your three weeks of night shifts,” I told him as I went past.

Brett smiled lazily. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll find a way to keep them interesting.”

Thea stood in her

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