Chapter 39 – “But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless,

When I was ten, my uncle bought me my first pair of designer shoes. They didn’t have a heel, he wouldn’t have done that, but the Prada patent-leather loafers shone under the loving care of Nanny Bella’s soft cloth. That joy, which was larger than life to me still, didn’t match what I felt when I woke early the next morning. Dr. Maggie’s song hasn’t started yet, but I’m alert and awake.

The sun isn’t up, but the evergreens outside waited for me like any other Christmas tree. As I dress, the world glows. Lines are crisper. Sounds sharper. The smell of pines is fresher. Every part of my body is awake. I have a strange desire to pray and I’m moved enough to investigate.

Clothed in my parka and sneakers, I flip off my light and head out. The predawn air is chilly. None of the birds are awake. No crickets chirp. The crunch of pine-needles and dirt echoes against the empty woods as if I’m the only human alive. The idea doesn’t instill fear as much as awe.

I don’t head to the chapel. That’s not the kind of praying I want to do. Instead, I go to the orientation office, where I know the night guards work grave. The entire week after graduation is a reset at The Center, some of the family members get to stay in the staff cabins for a fee. There are no classes and minimal job loads. My only responsibility today is to see Dr. Maggie. But even that doesn’t feel like the burden it did just twenty-four hours ago.

To be honest, I’m actually looking forward to the conversation. I want her help. How odd is that? Maybe she can figure out a solid place for me to land. The selfless experience of joy didn’t leave me yesterday and I confess it has me baffled. I’m not ready to dive into some religious ideology, nor am I looking for her theme song. I believe less in those words than I did yesterday, but there’s something to love that I still need to discover. Something I’ve never gripped in my fists before. We can talk through it. Therapy, who knew?

On the big porch, I ignore the poster on the door and enter the big room. A small fire roars in the open space. Cozy. Even the dead beasts rest in peace. I laugh. 

“Can I help you?” The guard at the desk asks. She use to be an inmate. Since graduation, I learned the difference. Gray uniforms mean interns, former students. The green-clad guards are hired from the outside. She’s still monitored with a blue dot. Doesn’t have to be, it is her choice. And this morning, I get it. I don’t want to be a guard, but I feel the swell of love in my heart for The Center and can’t imagine leaving this place.

 I smile at her with a genuine hope. My manipulative grins have been packed away. “I’d like to climb to the top of Mount Hermon.”

“On the eastern slope?”

“Yes, please.” The last word comes out long and corny, but I don’t care.

“It’s kind of early.”

I shrug waiting for her to tell me “no.” If she refuses, then I’ll sit here in this room and wait for the desire to pray to disappear. But she doesn’t say “no” instead she says, “be careful.” She doesn’t ask for my name. She doesn’t record it in the record. She just continues to focus on the screens. The only moving dots on the maps are blue. All the red and yellow are clustered in the dorms.

I nod and leave. Hoofing it past dark junipers and sage, I breathe heavy. By the time I get to the top of the highest mountain on campus, the sky has lighten to a soft gray with an orange haze on the eastern horizon. Dr. Maggie’s song hasn’t started and I wonder if that’s because of the visitors. Not that it matters to me. Not today. As I survey the wide expanse of mountains and canyons, my heart aches. Gone are the fears from when I first arrive. In fact, those fears are so distant, it’s hard to believe I‘d actually felt them.

The ever-present smell of wood-burning fireplaces over-powered the cool morning air. It seems unnecessary in August to use the dorm fireplaces, but many of the inmates find it nice and this morning I can’t disagree.

On the other side of the broad valley a river flows. The stunning view reminds me that The Center shouldn’t be my home, I deserve much worse. For the rest of my stay I will follow every rule. This isn’t the reform school my mother proclaimed, and it no longer seems like hell. Besides, I think I can learn to be a decent mother here.

I sit on the ground. Beneath me the dew soaks through my khakis. On top of a mountain, on the edge of a meadow, I search for peace. All the things I thought were solid, have crumbled. Sunlight bathes a distant mountain in the west as I wait for the sun’s rays to topple onto the peak that houses me. Although the sun rises in the east, the western mountains across from me receive light. Above the peak, a full moon slips over the edge, round and white like a quarter-sized cloud. All the laws of nature feel flipped. Even the sky I’ve studied my whole life has changed.

Helping Mario gave me a better appreciation of The Center. Most detention facilities cage their inmates. While this place is still a zoo, at least they give us access to a natural habitat. Trees for the monkeys. Meadows for the donkeys. How did I miss that before?

I curl my knees to my chest. I’m convinced that I don’t belong anywhere. Not here in this beautiful setting. Not home in California or Virginia. Sunlight creeps toward me from the opposite mountain. Slowly, like a lava flow, the yellow reflection eats away the shade covering the slope I occupy. The sun rises behind me. It won’t be long before the light will swallow me.

“I’m sorry.” My words float into the sky to join the clouds. They hang and stay and wait for a reply that doesn’t come. Most of my life has been wasted on fighting, planning and destroying other people. Students in San Diego. Daniel. Father. I probably ruined Nicole’s life forever. My sister should hate me. In the end, none of it was worth it. None of it led to the one thing I really wanted most. I wanted to love someone.

Someone who would accept it. Want it. Appreciate it. I can see it now. It took the knowledge that an almighty God of love could hate me to wake me up. According to Mario, God doesn’t hate me, but what I did. But would this deity pursue me the way I had Daniel or my father? I doubt it. My soul wants to pour out love onto others. And whether there’s a God or not, I’m going to start giving love for real. I want to become kind more than my lungs want air. This is a new day. A new life.

As the sun rises over the edge of the hills. I feel like my cocoon has cracked wide open.