you our team really debated about a residential substance abuse program, but your mom and your counsellor thought they could work on this with you. It is, however, an option, and for the most part our team recommends it. If you choose to remain at home, the hospital Crisis Support Team will provide two home visits while you’re waiting to set up with the social worker from Everwood Family Services. Your social worker will continue to provide in-home family support once a week. And …” Ice Queen turns to my mom, who has cowered under her whip.
“You will have a ten o’clock curfew, and if you break it,” my mom says in a firm voice, “I have agreed that the residential treatment plan will be reactivated. This is it, Melissa. This is the end. You hear me, Melissa?”
I don’t respond because there’s really nothing happening in my head right now. I don’t even have any fierce words on the tip of my tongue waiting to be swallowed or spat out. I just keep staring at my lap and twirling my ring like an idiot.
“Melissa?” Ice Queen joins in.
I ignore her voice because I figure she’ll just plow ahead like every other time we’ve talked to her.
“Melissa? Can you look at me?”
I raise my eyes and feel myself starting to get annoyed. Why the fuck do I have to look into her dead eyes?
“You have a lot in place here to help you, Melissa. It’s up to you now to take advantage of it, and get back on track. From the short time I’ve known you, I think that’s entirely possible. I think you have a bright future ahead of you.” She winks at me and for the first time opens her mouth to a thin smile.“Right?”
I stare at her for a second. Everything was okay until that last statement. Why do adults have to diminish everything by feeling they need to end meetings with a false positive? It’s so selfish. They say it not because they believe it, but because it helps them feel some kind of accomplishment when they walk away. Like they’ve done their job. But what do they leave behind?
It’s like when teachers tell Tyler that he should be a lawyer because he’s good at arguing, but meanwhile he can’t pass grade nine. No one wants to say he’s stupid, or that he’s probably going to end up in jail like his brother, so they fill his head with these stupid dreams until he’s eighteen, with no credits and totally messed up for life. I say, tell the truth, squash the dream, and stop with the second chances.
A bright future ahead of me? “Right,” Echo says.
Within two hours, I’m packed and ready to go home.
“Well … don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope I don’t see you again,” Alexis says to me, smiling and unlocking the cupboard. She passes me my plastic bag.
“Yeah, me too,” I say. I’m a little sad to leave her because she’s turned out to be pretty cool. “But thanks. If you weren’t around, I’d have killed myself with boredom. Ha ha.”
Alexis rolls her eyes and gives me a hug that I’m not prepared for, so I barely have time to bring my arms around her before she quickly pulls away.
“Peace,” I wave, and then lead my mom down the hallway, past the security guard, and toward the elevators.
In some ways, I’m happy to leave the hospital. I was bored out of my mind, I hated wearing the oversized gown, and I couldn’t sleep well at night. On the other hand, it was actually not so bad being there. In a messed-up way, it was good to be told what to do all the time because that way you don’t have the stress of choosing, and then the stress of having made the wrong decision. I can’t explain it. It’s like being held really, really tight. Not the caring way someone holds a baby, but more like the restraining way they would use to calm down a hysterical person. They hold and hold and hold until you calm down and your breathing returns and your muscles relax. And even though it’s forceful and you fight it, you actually want it, because you know deep down you’re being protected from yourself.
It’s the same way cats get when I pin them down on the examining table with my medieval metal-chain-armoured arms. After some panic and fighting, they just relax into it, as if