Lakewood - Megan Giddings Page 0,12

high?”

Lena nodded.

“Which one?”

“Nervous.”

Dr. Maggie scribbled some things in her notepad, turned, and gave the group at the table a thumbs-up.

Tim stood up again. He spoke about how wonderful it was to give so much of yourself, to let go of fear in the beauty of service. The national anthem came on, a boisterous marching-band version that Lena couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Everyone else stood, the man and the woman saluting. Lena put her hand over her heart and stood. She tried not to shuffle or fidget. When it was over, the three at the table filed out, leaving Lena alone with Dr. Maggie.

“It’s okay to feel a little overwhelmed,” the doctor said, her voice now friendlier. She handed Lena a bag filled with gray clothes. “I’ll take you to your room and you can get changed into your uniform. The clothes are a little ugly, but they are comfortable.”

“These are still better than the uniform for the job I just interviewed for. If I get it, I’ll be dressing as a very feminine blue corn chip.”

“What an honor.”

Dr. Maggie led Lena down the hall. Every door was identical: old, wooden, with a brass doorknob and a frosted-glass window at the top that only someone over six feet tall could easily peer through. At the end of the hallway was a large staircase.

“Did this use to be a school?”

“No. But I see why you would ask that. We’re going to go all the way up to three.”

The third floor was in much worse shape than the first. The floors were covered in a brown carpet that seemed hastily applied, with bumps and areas that didn’t quite meet the hallway’s walls. The walls were the same gray as the clothes Lena was carrying. It smelled of sawdust and mildew. There were no windows and one of the long overhead fluorescent lights kept flickering. Dr. Maggie pulled out a key and unlocked the third door on the right.

“Welcome home.” The doctor handed Lena the key, told her someone would be by in about 20 minutes to take her to the first session. Dr. Maggie paused in the doorway. “No exploring, okay?”

The bed was navy. There were three skinny windows approximately the length and width of Lena’s arms. A small desk made from brown wood was beneath the windows. It was attractive simply because it was not gray or navy. A thin notepad and an old-school boombox were on top of it. A small dresser was at the foot of the bed. Lena pulled the drawers open to reveal navy towels and washcloths, additional gray clothes, and a pair of gray slippers. Lena found a few CDs that were burned by someone who seemed to have an okay sense of humor. One was titled “Now That’s What I Call Mozart!”

She flipped on the overhead light. It did little to fight the dimness of the room. Lena wanted to take a picture of it and send it to Tanya with a caption: “If Depression was an interior designer.” Instead, she changed into her gray clothes. They were comfortable. Lena stretched, trying to feel every bit of herself, from her tendons and muscles and bones. She wanted to listen to her body and ignore her brain, which kept thinking over Tim’s words: “You give of yourself to make your country a better place. You give of yourself to keep us safe.”

5

The first session was with a blonde woman who introduced herself as Dr. Lisa. She was the type of tall, muscular woman who, despite looking close to 50, people still probably asked if she played volleyball or basketball. They started the session by going into the small garden behind her office and walking together as the day slowly warmed, frost melting on the grass.

“How often do you read the news?”

“Not much. Between school and work and family, I always feel behind. Although, I guess, maybe that’s a good thing right now.”

“Still, how much do you think the news you read influences the ways you see the world?” A small burst of cloud puffed out of Dr. Lisa’s mouth with each word.

Embarrassed, Lena’s voice cracked as she said she didn’t think she could truly answer the question. She looked down at the daffodils, so bright compared to anything inside the doctor’s office. The sunlight made the doctor’s hair look more white than blonde.

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

“I want to.”

The wind gusted, pushed the daffodils around, trailed its fingers through the grass and