Get Well Soon (8 page)
Authors: Julie Halpern
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Depression & Mental Illness, #Love & Romance
POST–FREE TIME
I had a very interesting chat with Matt O. tonight while we played a game of War. Justin was writing intently in a distant corner (with his right hand) in his notebook, and I didn’t want to bother him.
Alone with Matt O., it seemed like an OK time to ask, “So, Matt, why are you here? You never told us in Group.”
“Yeah, well, it’s kind of embarrassing.”
“You’re not hearing voices or running with the devil, are you? How bad could it be?”
We played War as he spoke. “My parents got divorced when I was little. My dad was real good about visiting and sending money and stuff—still is. My mom worked a lot and met this guy, Ray. He moved in with us a couple of years ago.” Long pause. The game continued. “He was always home because he was on disability for some factory accident with his foot. It wasn’t too bad having him around for a while because he made dinner every night.” Matt O. paused, and as he bit his lip I could tell something big was coming.
“You don’t have to continue if you don’t want,” I told him. My stomach flipped as I assumed the worst. Did I want to hear this?
“They say it’s not my fault, so I shouldn’t feel embarrassed talking about it. It’s kind of hard not to be embarrassed about some guy touching my dick.” He didn’t look at me, but he didn’t cry either. I bet I would cry if I had to say something like that.
“Ugh,” I replied. I felt gross. I don’t know if it was because a grown man had touched Matt, or if just thinking about the unknown world of penises made me nervously sick. I really couldn’t believe some sick fuck could do that to Matt.
“Yeah. That’s a good way to put it. My dad exploded when he came by one night to visit and caught Ray in the act. Beat the crap out of him. My dad pays for me to be here so they can ‘fix
me,’” he said with finger quotes. “It’s still stuck in my head, though.”
me,’” he said with finger quotes. “It’s still stuck in my head, though.”
“Is that why you’re still here after six months?” Is that what they do to kids who are sexually abused? Send them away?
“Not really. I mean, I’m a lot better. Of course it’s going to be in my head in some way. I kind of
choose
to stay here.”
choose
to stay here.”
I was shocked, but at the same time I could understand it in terms of my own feelings. How easy and comfortable it is here.
“Not that Lake Shit is so great, but my dad acted so weird to me after the whole thing. We used to be so close, and now he won’t even look at me. I think he’s embarrassed for me or something. And my mom will hardly admit that Ray did it.” Matt did an impressive one-handed shuffle and kept his eyes on the cards.
“You’re kidding.”
“No. My doctor tells me that’s common. I guess my mom doesn’t want to admit that she’d date such a dickhead. I don’t want to go home and live with her again, and my dad has good insurance. So I’m here.”
He looked up at me and gave a shrug.
“At least you can talk about it here, right?”
“Actually, I haven’t really told many people. I must like you.” He smiled.
“I guess you’re kind of glad that no one’s allowed to touch you while you’re here?” Matt resumed our game of War. I flipped over an ace and took one of his kings.
“I wouldn’t mind it so much if it wasn’t some perv doing the
touching. I liked it a lot when my girlfriend was doing it, you know what I mean?”
touching. I liked it a lot when my girlfriend was doing it, you know what I mean?”
“Not so much,” I said.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Like
you
never had a boyfriend?”
you
never had a boyfriend?”
“Nope,” I said. “War. One, two, three, turn over.” I got an ace in that War. “Sweet!”
“That’s hard to believe,” Matt O. said, “’cause you’re so pretty.” He straightened out his dwindling deck.
“Thanks, but I think you’re the first person to think that.” I was beating the crap out of him in the game. All he had left was a bunch of low-numbered cards and one ace. I hoped we would have an aces War.
“Doubtful,” he said, as I collected card after card of his twos and threes.
“I mean, I never thought I was ugly, but I’m, you know, kind of a pudge. Guys aren’t into that, except for those weird guys who are
only
into that and go on
The Tyra Banks Show
saying how much they ‘looooove them love handles.’” I guess I was trying to change the subject because I was embarrassed. No one’s ever said nice things like that about me before.
only
into that and go on
The Tyra Banks Show
saying how much they ‘looooove them love handles.’” I guess I was trying to change the subject because I was embarrassed. No one’s ever said nice things like that about me before.
“Ace War!”
“You’re not fat. You’re …” Matt O. laid out his ace and three other cards. I knew I’d win this, since the ace was his only good card and that was already showing. “ … Juicy,” he said. “Turn over.”
We flipped over the cards. Mine was a king. His was a three. “You win,” he smiled. “Good game.”
“Free Time is over. Back to your rooms,” Bettina called.
I was stunned. “Juicy.” Like J. Lo or Beyoncé or, I don’t know, who else is juicy? Britney Spears before the babies? Most famous people I can think of are just rods with big boobs. I mean, when I think of juicy, I think of sexy. Me, sexy? Maybe it’s just because Matt O. has been here six months and is slightly delusional. And he is a teenage boy, and the only other girls here are taken, possessed, or pregnant. But he didn’t have to say “juicy.” He could have just gone through the usual “You’re not fat” routine that my friends always give me (no offense, Tracy). I think I can live with juicy.
BEDTIME
Morgan is quite an entertaining plastic baby. She loves to play all sorts of games. Following is a short list:
Morgan Overboard: This game involves Sandy and me standing on our respective beds and tossing Morgan back and forth as fast as we can. If we drop her, she falls into the ocean and is eaten by sharks.
Hide-and-Seek: This is where one of us hides Morgan, and the other has to find her. I wonder what the staff here would say if they knew we were stuffing the “baby” under our mattresses.
Smush in Morgan’s plastic face: Self-explanatory.We get so bored in our room. Sometimes we just stare through the “protective” mesh screen over our windows and devise escape plans. The pink and blue cars are still sitting in the parking lot. Sandy has dubbed them our getaway cars, and whenever we bust out of this joint we will escape in all their pastel glory.
MORNING
TMI, I’m sure, but I’m starting to get rather hairy (only on my legs and armpits, of course. It’s not like I’m growing a beard). We are not allowed razors (for the obvious reasons). It’s kind of weird, but I don’t really think my legs look bad with hair on them. I think it’s a myth that the hair comes back thick and prickly once you start shaving—my hair is soft and supple (Eeew! “Supple” is such a gross word, but I felt compelled to use it). My armpit hair is another story. Not that it’s all hard and crunchy, but I don’t like it quite as much. I think it makes me sweat more. And if I’m not actually sweating more, what I am sweating is just sitting in the small tufts of hair and is making me feel all moist and gross. I want to blot my armpit with tissues all of the time. If I ever get to talk to my parents, the first thing I’m going to ask them is to send me an electric razor. We’re allowed to use those, with proper supervision. Hopefully I’ll get one soon. In the meantime, send dry thoughts my way.
I’m supposed to meet with Doc A-Hole today. I wonder if he has any news from home. Does he talk to my parents? What
does he tell them? He’s probably sharing with them the marvels of modern antidepressants. But who can even tell if the antidepressants are working when I’m in such a completely different environment than the one at home? Why can’t
I
talk to my parents? What would I say to them if I did?
does he tell them? He’s probably sharing with them the marvels of modern antidepressants. But who can even tell if the antidepressants are working when I’m in such a completely different environment than the one at home? Why can’t
I
talk to my parents? What would I say to them if I did?
I have to admit (only on paper—we wouldn’t want to give the adults any ideas that they’re doing something right) that things aren’t nearly as bad as they were when I got here. I haven’t cried or had a panic attack in days. I actually go to school (albeit fake school where I don’t do any work). I have friends, and, dare I say, I have a love interest? I’ve lost a bunch of weight. It’s like the total opposite of my real life. I know Lake Shit is a long way off from a fairy tale, but there’s just a teeny-weeny parallel to Cinderella. The teeniest of weenies.
POST-BREAKFAST
I still haven’t been eating much. Stuffing my face doesn’t seem as much fun as it used to. Maybe it’s because I’m so satisfied with the way my life is going right now (yeah, right), or maybe it’s because I don’t really have the time or the access to food. Or maybe it’s because the less I eat, the less I have to use the no-lock bathroom. Whatever the reason, the last time I was weighed the scale said I’d lost almost ten pounds!
And now for the real news: It could possibly, maybe, be official that Justin likes me. Here is what I am attempting to decipher: We were in line for breakfast in the caf; I was behind Matt O.,
who was behind Justin. As the line progressed, Justin somehow ended up switching positions with Matt O. so that he was directly in front of me. At first I was just looking at the back of his, well, back, and, Trace—it was gorgeous. He’s like over a foot taller than me, and all I wanted to do was nestle into the back of his soft green T-shirt. I leaned in just a little, to see if I could smell him. Since we had just showered (ooh! Not together!), he had a soapy smell, mixed with his deodorant, which I imagined to be called something like “Cool Blue.” At the moment of sniffage, he turned around to talk to me (and almost caught me taking a whiff of his manly goodness). I had to clear my throat so it seemed like maybe I was just dealing with morning allergies.
who was behind Justin. As the line progressed, Justin somehow ended up switching positions with Matt O. so that he was directly in front of me. At first I was just looking at the back of his, well, back, and, Trace—it was gorgeous. He’s like over a foot taller than me, and all I wanted to do was nestle into the back of his soft green T-shirt. I leaned in just a little, to see if I could smell him. Since we had just showered (ooh! Not together!), he had a soapy smell, mixed with his deodorant, which I imagined to be called something like “Cool Blue.” At the moment of sniffage, he turned around to talk to me (and almost caught me taking a whiff of his manly goodness). I had to clear my throat so it seemed like maybe I was just dealing with morning allergies.
“What are you gonna have for breakfast?” he asked.
“Some Cap’n Crunch. What about you?”
“Oh, I always start my day with The Cap’n. Every day since I was, like, six, I ate Cap’n Crunch. It’s delicious and nutritious and gives me just the right amount of energy to get me going in the morning.” He looked down and shifted his mouth to one side, as if he were embarrassed for opening up his sugary secret thoughts to me. So I said, “Cereal’s cool that way. You get all those vitamins and sugar at the same time. Plus, the wholesome joy of milk.” He smiled and looked into my eyes for maybe two seconds before he turned around and pulled out two boxes of Cap’n Crunch from the cafeteria buffet, one for him and one for me.
So what do you think? I mean, if someone else told me that story and said a guy was acting that way towards them, I’d be all,
“He totally likes you!” But I just can’t tell because it’s me. I don’t want this to turn into another Erik Johnson debacle. That was hideous, remember, Trace? In 7th grade that girl Doreen told me that Erik liked me, even though I’d never even talked to him. So forever I had the biggest crush on him and thought that every time I looked at him in the halls it was so mutual, our obvious connection. And then one day you and I called him, and I made him guess who I was by my voice. He kept on guessing different popular girls’ names, and I had to keep saying, “No, no, no.” When I finally told him who he was talking to, he had no idea who I was! But he was still all like, “Come over.” So we went over to his house, and it was so awkward. Remember how he had an open box of matzo sitting on the counter, and we were trying to figure out if he was Jewish or not because he was so blond? And then the next day in school and for the rest of forever he didn’t talk to me, until it was the first day of freshman year and I finally had a class with him because he was too stupid to be in any of my classes in junior high but in high school they didn’t level our English classes. One day the teacher asked Erik to take attendance. He went down the list of names, marking off people he already knew. When he got to my name, he called it out and waited because he didn’t know who I was! It took me months to get over him. I think what finally did it was when I caught him staring at the clock, and when I asked him what he was doing he said he was practicing for the staring contests he had with his cat.
“He totally likes you!” But I just can’t tell because it’s me. I don’t want this to turn into another Erik Johnson debacle. That was hideous, remember, Trace? In 7th grade that girl Doreen told me that Erik liked me, even though I’d never even talked to him. So forever I had the biggest crush on him and thought that every time I looked at him in the halls it was so mutual, our obvious connection. And then one day you and I called him, and I made him guess who I was by my voice. He kept on guessing different popular girls’ names, and I had to keep saying, “No, no, no.” When I finally told him who he was talking to, he had no idea who I was! But he was still all like, “Come over.” So we went over to his house, and it was so awkward. Remember how he had an open box of matzo sitting on the counter, and we were trying to figure out if he was Jewish or not because he was so blond? And then the next day in school and for the rest of forever he didn’t talk to me, until it was the first day of freshman year and I finally had a class with him because he was too stupid to be in any of my classes in junior high but in high school they didn’t level our English classes. One day the teacher asked Erik to take attendance. He went down the list of names, marking off people he already knew. When he got to my name, he called it out and waited because he didn’t know who I was! It took me months to get over him. I think what finally did it was when I caught him staring at the clock, and when I asked him what he was doing he said he was practicing for the staring contests he had with his cat.
My point is that what if Justin is just another Erik Johnson, and
I go over to his mental hospital room where he stores his matzo, and the next day he forgets I exist? I just can’t be too careful. I don’t understand how some people manage to date all of the time and know they look good and show cleavage and stomach and thong like that’s all perfectly normal. And even if I ever lose enough weight to
want
to show my stomach to the public, I could never feel normal anyway because
I’m in a mental hospital.
I go over to his mental hospital room where he stores his matzo, and the next day he forgets I exist? I just can’t be too careful. I don’t understand how some people manage to date all of the time and know they look good and show cleavage and stomach and thong like that’s all perfectly normal. And even if I ever lose enough weight to
want
to show my stomach to the public, I could never feel normal anyway because
I’m in a mental hospital.
So do you think he likes me?
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