Girl, Exchanged: Chapter One

Released

The meek, mousy nurse had given back her belt, her shoes, and her backpack and now her neon, two-toned sneakers were the only point of color in the room. She stowed her biology book, the one concession they had made to her life outside. Two days into her stay she had been given a family photo, which had been intercepted by the management and therefore had no glass. That got dumped into her pack too. When she had tired of reading and re-reading her textbook, she would try to create her own origami with the only entertainment she was given: a large stack of paper. On a whim, she swept all the tiny cups and deformed bunnies into the garbage pail by her bed. The janitors had enough on their plates.

Everything in the ward was ashen, but not muted. The TV blared with the intention of covering any crying or screaming that might be echoing sharply down the whitewashed halls. S****y day-time TV made horrible white noise, she had learned, and at this moment could hear a young girl screaming about needles, and another crying until her breathing was ragged. Gail herself was used to it, and knew that this horror-movie soundtrack was made of kids just being their bratty elementary-school selves. The one fourth grader that she had talked to was here because of the overreaction of a school counselor to a "violent" picture that she had drawn.

Even so, Gail was glad that her parents were not meeting her in her room. They didn't know any better. Now that her failed attempt had "outed" her as crazy, her parents thought she was one of the lunatics that they saw trundling around the joint. Gail didn't feel crazy, only numb. Although, as they hinted during therapy, she would have to be crazy to throw away a family who cared for her, a boyfriend who loved her, and a future filled with hope and promise. But they were wrong.

The world outside the automatic double-doors suddenly felt alien, after only a week on the inside. Even so, she was taking the preternatural whiteness of the ward with her, in the form of the long cotton bandages taped to her arms.

"Gail!"

At the bottom of the stairs, she was greeted with tight-lipped kisses and fragile embraces. Her mother's eyes were swollen, and her father's darted after every blink to her arms. She pretended to not notice. Her brother gave her a quick hug and stood silent, baseball cap uncharacteristically slanted over his eyes, as her parents jabbered about how much they had missed her and how much she had missed. It didn't sound like much: one week of classes, one week of family dinners. 

Sam had told her while she was still at the general hospital that he wanted to be there, at the moment of her new freedom, but he had lacrosse practice. Honestly, she was glad: her stringy hair and sunken features had seemed even more exaggerated this morning when she looked in the mirror. He would have wanted to see a smile. When she conjured up his smiling face in her brain, a feeling she could not identify flashed through her gut.

The drive home continued in much the same way. She sat in the back seat behind her mother, staring out the window and trying not to think too hard about how huge the world was. How tiny she was in it. If she had succeeded, by now, she would be gone and buried, and not fighting to keep her lungs breathing in the monsoon of everyday life. No, so many people would miss her. At least, that's what they said.

In the hallway of their apartment building, she said her first words: "Call me for dinner, okay?"

Without waiting for an answer, she escaped to her bedroom, lying down on her cool comforter and digging into her too-small pockets to fish out her cell phone. For the first time in a week, she turned it on and a chorus of messages made themselves heard. A few from Sam about how much he missed her, one from her mother of the same flavor and-- three from a number she didn't already have saved in her phone. It had to be Laura.

Though they had only shared three days in inpatient, Gail felt like she had a new best friend. When Gail had found herself on the ward, Laura made her crack her first smile in what felt like months.

The first one read:

i need u to come visit me. it might be a lot to ask because i probably won't be at home. don't worry. will text with the details later

And then a second:

ok you're never going to believe what is happening to me

She scrolled to the last:

i might not have reception where i'm going. you just gotta come to the woods near the trailer park

Gail sat straight up in bed and ripped her earbuds out. Obviously, Laura's meds hadn't done their job and she was having an episode like she had described to Gail during their long nights together.

Gail texted back:

i will come for u soon, stay safe <3

Author's Note

Word count: 873

There will be a better flashback when I figure out how to handle that.