The Game Series (21 page)

After scrubbing the kitchen to work out the breakdown of this morning, I grab my coffee mug in both hands and sink into one of the kitchen chairs. It's not quite Starbucks, but for the first time in a year, I don't have the energy to make the run two blocks across to the nearest coffee shop.

The floorboards creak from upstairs, and a few seconds later Dad shuffles into the kitchen. He's already dressed – I guess I blocked everything out when I was cleaning.

“Morning, Maddie.” He kisses the top of my head and stops, looking around. “Kitchen looks clean.”

I shrug a shoulder. “I needed something to do.”

He glances at me as he pours a coffee. He takes four tablets from the bottles lined behind the kettle and throws them back, washing them down with the coffee. Dad makes his way to the table and sits opposite me, his gray-blue eyes studying me.

“So,” I say to break the silence. “Do you usually sleep this late?”

He grunts. “Like I said, damn tablets give me insomnia. So lately, yes.”

I nod. “Has Doc said how long it'll be for the side effects to wear off?”

“Few weeks. Like normal.”

I know it's a touchy subject for Dad. As much as he hates the fact he's living without Mom, he hates appearing weak. To him, depression is a sign of weakness.

It's not. Depression is a sign of strength – because it means no matter how weak your mind might be to you, your heart is still strong enough to feel.

“That's not too bad then. Hopefully you'll be back to normal in a few weeks.” I reach over and pat his lightly wrinkled hand. He looks at me, and I notice the little lines around his eyes, the faint indents around his mouth that should be proper laughter lines.

“As normal as I can be, Maddie,” he replies sadly, turning his hand under mine and squeezing my fingers.

I nod softly, knowing his words are true. Without her, he'll never be the same person he was when she was alive.

“So. You never did say why you were back,” Dad hedges.

I grimace slightly. “Like I said, I missed you. You must get lonely being here by yourself.”

“I might be alone, Maddie, but being alone doesn't mean you're lonely.” Dad sips his coffee. “In fact, I'm never alone. Your mother lives on in my heart. She's always with me.”

I blink back the tears that rise in my eyes.

“Nice save, by the way, kiddo.” He winks at me. “I get it. You don't wanna talk right now, but Maddie? By the time you go back to Berkeley, whenever that is, we will be talking.”

I sigh and run my finger around the top of my mug. “Okay, Daddy. Have you.... Er, have you heard from Pearce?”

Dad nods sharply. “Couple days ago. He got picked up for possession on his way back here. He was in downtown Brooklyn just about to hail a cab. Cop smelled whatever crap it was he'd been smoking. You know it ain't his first offense, Mads, so he's waiting for bail. If he gets it. He called here asking me to bail him out and I refused. Time that boy stopped being babied and helped by us.” He gives me a pointed look.

“I'm sorry, Dad,” I say sadly. “I just.... I didn't want Abbi to get hurt anymore, you know? That's why he was in California, though, he wanted money to pay off his debts. I sent one lot up thinking it was for you and it wasn't....”

“Your mom always used to say you can't help someone unless they wanna be helped, baby girl. Your brother is one of them people, as much as I hate to say it. He's gotta find his way outta this by himself. Nothin' and no one will be able to pull that boy out of this rut he's stuck in.”

I look towards the window and into the yard. “And no one will be able to right his wrongs.”

“You got that right.”

~

I've put this off for three days. I don't know why I'm here – maybe it's closure, maybe it's a reason so cliché I'm not even sure how to word it. But as I kill the engine on Dad's old car, I find myself staring at the large, white building that is home to my best friend.

I didn't even set out to come to St. Morris', I just arrived here. I rub my forehead and and climb from the car, pushing the door shut. The gravel path to the main door is the same as I remember, and the oak door still has the same rusty, golden knocker on.

I take a deep breath, smoothing my hair back with shaky hands, and I press the buzzer on the intercom.

“Welcome to St. Morris' Institution. Please state your name and who you're here to visit,” the voice says.

“Maddie Stevens, and I'm here to see Abigail Jenkins.”

A few seconds pass, and the door buzzes. “Come on in, Maddie.”

The warm peach of the front office surrounds me in a fake comfort. I approach the desk and see a nurse I know – Nurse Jayne.

“Maddie!” She stands and smiles at me. “We haven't seen you in a while.”

A raincloud of guilt has just pissed on me. “I've been to school – in California. This is the first time I've been back.”

Jayne nods as if she understands. “I'm sure Abbi knows that.”

She waves me on to follow her, like I don't already know the way to her room, and I tuck my hands in my pockets as I do.

“Is she any better?” I ask hesitantly.

Jayne is silent for a second, and I know that means no, no matter what she says next. “Some days are better than others. I think her therapy sessions with Dr. Hausen are helping her, but she's still very down.” She turns to me and puts a gentle hand on my arm. “She's not eating much, so she's lost a lot of weight. Try not to show your shock. It alarms her, and she can be hard to calm then.”

I nod. I know the rules. Don't upset her. Don't talk about Pearce. Don't mention guys or sex. Don't do anything I should be able to do with her.

Jayne knocks on room 18 and pushes the door open a crack. “Abbi? Abbi, love, you've a visitor today!”

Her voice is so cheery, and I try to swallow the panic creeping in my throat. Jayne sighs quietly and turns to me.

“She's having a small response day today, so don't be offended if she doesn't really acknowledge you. She knows you're there,” she whispers, stepping into the room as she pushes the door open. I nod again, my own responses muted, and walk into Abbi's room.

Her room has always been as close to her own bedroom as me and her Mom could do it. I remember bringing all her pictures over, her closet, the stuffed animals we'd won at funfairs. Even her desk is here, tucked in the corner.

Abbi is sitting in a plush armchair by the window. Her blonde hair hangs limply past her shoulders, and her hands are folded demurely in her lap. Her dull, gray eyes are focused on the activity going on outside. She'll never join them. You can see it in her eyes that she wants to – but the death grip that is her depression won't let her.

I nudge another armchair closer to her and sit down slowly. “Hey, Abs. How you doing?”

Nothing. I tuck my hands under my legs.

“You look well.” I'm lying. It's all a lie. The cheeriness in my voice, the calm outer shell. Inside I'm shaking, I'm crumbling, and I don't know how much longer I can hide it. I want my best friend back. It's childish but I do, dammit!

“Jayne says you're doing well. I've been in school, in California. I remember telling you I was going. It's not too bad there. I mean, I have some friends.” Her head turns towards me slightly. “But it's not home, you know? Sometimes I miss Brooklyn, and I miss you too. I'm glad you're doing okay.”

I'm babbling. I'm babbling so much, but it's all I can do.

Her fingers twitch, and her attention is back on the activity outside.

“I think they're silly, the ones outside. It's freezing cold out there. You're much better off inside here, in the warm.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “Has your mom been by lately? I gave her a call yesterday. She said you're doing well, too. Everyone's said so.”

Abbi's lips move, ever so slightly. I lean in a little. “What was that, Abs?”

“Outside,” she whispers, not taking her eyes off the yard.

“You want to go outside?”

“Please.” Her voice is so faint I'm straining to hear it.

“Of course,” I say, standing. “Let me go and ask Jayne-”

“You,” she says, turning her face to me. Her eyes focus on mine. “Me and you, Maddie.”

I take a deep breath and nod, letting her hook her arms around mine. She stands up on weak legs, and I guide her to the door where she has a puffy coat hanging. I help her into it.

“Let's take a walk to the nurse's station and let Jayne know, okay?” We walk slowly down the corridor, her slippers shuffling along the linoleum. Jayne double-takes as we approach her.

“Abbi's asked to go outside,” I say carefully. “She wants me to take her. That's okay, isn't it?”

Jayne nods enthusiastically and smiles widely. “Of course it is! I'll pop the time on the board, and you let us know when you come back so we can jot it down. You girls have fun.”

I didn't know fun was possible in this place.

“Come on, Abs. Let's get you some sunshine, okay?” We move towards and through the glass doors, letting a small winter breeze blow into the building.

Abbi stops as soon as we step outside. She closes her eyes, and I watch her take a deep breath. I wonder when
the last time she came outside was.

“Where do you want to go?”

She opens her eyes and looks over at a bench surrounded by rose bushes. I nod and help her down some steps. The activity is still going on and we ignore it as we cross the grass. I pull my coat a little tighter around me with my free hand and help Abbi sit.

“It's nice outside, huh?” I lower myself to sit next to her.

Abbi nods slowly, her hair swaying. “The noise is nice,” she says quietly.

“I bet.” I reach over and touch her hand. She grips it with her bony fingers.

“What is college like?”

I inhale sharply and look at her. Her eyes are watching the group activity, the only indication she's giving I'm here apart from talking is the way she's holding my hand.

“It's.... Different to high school. I mean, there are less classes and more free time. And a Starbucks just around the corner.” Abbi's lips twitch. “I've made some friends, like I said, but I wish you were there.” She nods.

“Me, too. We would have killed Cali, right?” She looks at me again.

“We still will,” I promise. “One day, Abs, me and you will show Cali the time of its life. Okay?”

Her lips twitch again. “Deal, deal, pig squeal.”

“Deal, deal, squeaky eel.” I smile at our childhood rhyme.

“Who is he?” She tilts her head to the side, her eyes finding a spot behind me.

“Who is who?” I say tentatively.

“The reason you're sad.”

“I'm not sad.”

She nods, her eyes unfocused. “You are. I can see it. What did he do?”

“He didn't really do anything. It was both of us.”

“What's his name?”

“Braden.”

Her head bobs. “Tell me.”

“Are you-”

“Tell me. I want to know, Maddie.”

I take a deep breath, and I pour out the story. I start at the challenge and finish at my arrival to St. Morris'.

We're silent for a while after I finish, the only noise the fall birds chirping in the yard and the wind whipping around us.

“Can we go back?” Abbi asks.

“Sure, Abs. Come on.”

We make our way to her room, stopping off at the nurse's station to check in with Jayne. I help Abbi from her coat and back into the chair.

“You love him,” Abbi says matter of factly, settling into the cushions. She's looking out the window again.

“Yes, I do,” I admit, standing beside her.

“So tell him,” she replies simply. “We have to tell people sometimes
.... Because they don't always know. It's a little word that means a lot. Sometimes, love is all you need, even when you think you don't. Sometimes, you just have to say it.”

I beat back the rising tears desperately, refusing to cry in front of her.

I bend over and kiss the top of her head. “I love you, Abbi.”

“I love you, Maddie.”

“I'll see you soon.” I choke the words out and head towards the door. As I open it, I know Abbi is lost back in her own world again, where the only constant is pain. I'm glad I could give her the freedom from it she so desperately needed.

I acknowledge Jayne at the desk and all but run back to the car. I yank the door open and slide in, pulling the door shut with a bang behind me.

Finally, I let the emotion overtake me. Tears spill over my eyes, and I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, holding it tightly. The tears drip down onto my legs and I know she was right. Even in her 'damaged' state, my best friend can still talk more sense than I can mentally healthy.

So tell him.
It's not that easy, but what if I did? Would that make me like Abbi?

Maybe getting out now was for the best. A month – any longer, and I might have become dependent. But
.... Braden isn't Pearce and I know that.