scans the room, and watches a slight female patient playing checkers. The girl catches my mother’s gaze and jumps out of her seat, the hem of her hospital gown brushing against her knees. She stands directly in front of my mother.
“Boo!” the girl shouts.
My mother jumps and a nurse instantly guides the girl away, telling her to quietly play checkers or she will get points taken away. The girl starts to cry. Deep, heavy sobs that make even my heart ache. They’re the kinds of cries that carry out into the hall, slip through the cracks of the doors, and carry into the wind. They’re the cries that give psych wards a bad rep.
“I didn’t see her there.” She brushes the sleeves of her shirt as if she’s trying to wipe the crazy off her.
“How have you been?” I ask.
Instantly she perks up. “Great! There was a ladies’ luncheon yesterday. It was just beautiful. You would’ve loved it.”
“That’s good,” I say, but inside I’m questioning whether I really would have enjoyed it.
For the next few minutes she updates me on everything in her life. You’d think that not much would change week to week, but with my mother, it always does. She’s always bouncing around from one event to the next.
I shift in my seat. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“What about?”
“Just something about my past.”
“Okay…” She draws it out slowly.
“What was my life like before Fairfax?”
A soft smile appears. She reaches across the table and covers my hands with hers. “It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.”
The sincerity in her voice can’t be faked.
“I had a visitor yesterday.”
Her shoulders stiffen. Her back becomes ramrod straight. “Who?”
“Sinclair Montgomery.”
His name hangs between us. The look in her eyes shows that she knows that I know about the list. But she never speaks up and offers up an excuse.
“Does the staff have a list of who can and cannot visit me?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Who else is on the list?” I cut in.
My mother blanches. “Excuse me?”
“Who else is on the list?”
“Sinclair and Renee.”
I let out a deep breath and try to rein in my temper. “Shouldn’t you have told me that? Shouldn’t you have told me that there even was a list?”
She closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. “Victoria, I was just trying to help.”
“How was that trying to help?”
Her eyes flash with irritation. “You said you came to Fairfax to rest and I wanted to make sure that nothing or no one would get in your way.”
“You should’ve let me decide that.”
“I know, I know. I apologize. I thought I was doing what’s best for you.”
From the pain in her eyes, I think she’s being sincere. I want to believe she’s being sincere.
“So.” She smiles. “What else can we talk about?”
“We can talk about Wes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to leave Fairfax?”
Her face lights up. “That’s wonderful news, but what does this have to do with Wes?”
“Because no one believes me. You always tell me that you want me out of here. So here’s your chance to help me get out of here.”
She leans back in her seat as if I’ve just asked her to donate a kidney. I can see her mind racing. She wants to help me. That much is easy to see. But will she agree? That’s the real question.
“Victoria,” she says slowly. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
I glance down at Evelyn and gently stroke her hair. My heartbeat is staccato and erratic. “Why not?”
“Because he really is dead.”
All I can think is, Here we go again. Why did I think that this time would be different? I rapidly blink my eyes, trying to push back my tears.
I lift my head and look her straight in the eyes. “No, he isn’t,” I whisper fiercely.
“Yes, he is. Honey…” My mother licks her lips and glances down at the table. “I identified his body.”
This isn’t the first time she’s said that. I didn’t believe her then and I don’t believe her now. “No, you didn’t.”
Her hand reaches across the table toward mine. I jerk back. She sighs loudly. “You won’t even listen to me.”
“Because what you’re saying is a lie.” I lean forward. “I see him all the time.”
“Let’s stop and think about what you’re suggesting, all right?”
“You mean, asking for your help?”
My mother pointedly ignores me and continues. “If I give in and tell the doctors that Wes is alive when he isn’t, then I’m just encouraging you to believe it.”
I slam both hands