Authors: S. Walden
You do have a good point. It would be terribly romantic. Do you think Evan would forgive her?
I don’t know. She did fuck a man. I think that’s considered the ultimate betrayal.
“SHUT UP!” Clara screamed jumping to her feet.
Every person in the room turned in her direction, their eyes wide with disbelief as Clara stood trembling, face coursing with tears. She didn’t know why she was crying. She didn’t know why she was standing next to her desk during the middle of class.
“Excuse me?” Mr. Stevens asked.
Clara looked wildly about the room. She saw his face for a split second—the green-eyed boy—and she wanted to run to him, let him gather her up in his arms and hold her, hide her away from the stares of all of her classmates. They were beginning to stir and whisper, snicker and giggle.
“Clara?” Mr. Stevens asked when he noted the look of panic on her face. It was panic mixed with something else. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but she looked like she had no idea where she was. In that moment he knew. He knew she didn’t tell him to shut up. He knew it.
“I’m not well,” she said, placing her hand on her sweat-slicked forehead. The sounds of quiet laughter ceased, and a few students shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “Please, I’m not well.” She shook watching Mr. Stevens, reaching her arms to him, pleading with him silently to take her out of the room.
“It’s okay, Clara,” he said walking over to gather her books. She placed her hand on his forearm as he led her out to the office. “It’s okay.”
***
“How are you today, Clara?” the doctor asked.
Clara looked at her oddly, and the doctor drew in a patient breath.
“You remember that I’m Dr. Morton?” she asked.
Clara nodded then looked at the window.
“You’re mother says you’re not eating, Clara,” Dr. Morton said. “Remember we talked about that?”
Clara nodded, her eyes fastened to the window panes. She was not looking past them, through them. Her eyes couldn’t go that far.
“Would you like to tell me what happened at school today?”
Clara furrowed her brows. “What about it?”
“Well, your mother said you had a hard time in health class. Did you get upset about something?”
“No.”
Dr. Morton pressed on. “You interrupted class. Something must have been bothering you.”
“No.”
“Clara? Do you understand that I want to help you?”
Clara felt the sting of the tears. She focused on each one as it slid down her cheek to hang on her jaw line before plopping onto her shirt. She looked down at her shirt.
“Do you know I have a stain on my shirt?” she asked the doctor.
“I get stains on my shirts all the time,” Dr. Morton replied. She paused before continuing. “Clara? You have to let me help you if you want to get better.”
Clara’s tears distorted her view of the doctor. She leaned in close, and after blinking a few times, she saw a tissue waving in front of her face. She placed it on her lap.
“Did Evan talk to you today?” Dr. Morton asked.
Clara shook her head.
“Clara, your mother is concerned about your grades. You’re an A student, Clara. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Would you like to hear a poem?” Clara asked suddenly.
The doctor sat back in her chair and sighed. “I would love to, Clara.”
Clara stared straight ahead, not at Dr. Morton but at a point just right of the doctor’s face. Her voice was weak, but it did not falter. It said the words of her new prayer, not to God, but to a place far away she wished she could go.
“
I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree. And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
”
Dr. Morton got out of her chair as she cooed to her patient: “Keep going, Clara. It’s very beautiful.”
Clara’s eyes stayed fastened to the spot, out of focus, glazed over with a film of moisture.
“
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, And live alone in the bee-loud glade
.”
“I need your permission to admit her into the psychiatric ward . . .”
“
And I shall find some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings
;”
“It’s imperative that she be moved today. She needs medication, and it’s my professional opinion that she’s having a breakdown as we speak.”
“
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evenings full of the linnet’s wings
.”
“I understand Mrs. Greenwich. Oh,
Ms
. Greenwich. I do apologize. We’ll take her by ambulance. No no. No sirens, good God.”
“
I will arise and go now, for always night and day I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore
;”
“We’ll be there in approximately fifteen minutes. Yes, Ms. Greenwich. Goodbye.”
“
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey, I hear it in the deep heart’s core
.”
Clara sat silently, hands folded over the unused tissue in her lap, staring at the spot.
“That’s beautiful, Clara,” Dr. Morton said soothingly, walking over to stand beside her patient. “Now I want you to take my hand and come for a walk. Will you do that? We’re going someplace special.”
Clara nodded and took the doctor’s hand believing she was going to Innisfree.
Clara kept her head down as she walked the corridor. It was strange being back at school after two weeks, and she wondered what was the point of even completing the school year. Only three weeks left, and she couldn’t possibly turn her grades around. She thought she didn’t care, that the drive to be academically successful was erased the minute she started swallowing the pills.
She didn’t want to see him in health class. But the intense fear was gone. She wasn’t exactly numb, but she was definitely impenetrable. She was certain of that. She thought she could let the girls pull her hair and spit in her face and she wouldn’t care. Hell, maybe she would encourage them.
She slid into her seat, aware that some students were looking at her uneasily. They knew about her breakdown and were apprehensive, afraid she might have a psychotic explosion in class. She smiled to herself thinking how funny that would be. Or terribly sad.
He walked in and she looked up. He never turned his face to her but kept it focused on his friends in the opposite corner of the room. She realized that he never looked at her empty seat while she was gone, never wondered where she was. If he had, then he would have looked over now to see if she was there. But he didn’t because it was unimportant to him, and she felt heart pangs. She had not felt them since being released, but thankfully, these weren’t as strong as they used to be. The medicine made sure of that, dulling her senses to a fine, low drone. Something manageable. Something safe. And she was glad for the relief.
He sat down in front of Joshua—was that his name?—and started a conversation. She watched him push his hand through his hair and thought it must be a nervous habit. He turned to face the front of the classroom when the bell rang.
She looked at her book bag. She pulled out a notebook and placed it on her desk. It all seemed rote, and she opened the notebook to a fresh page. The lines were neat and straight, and she imagined her handwriting would ruin the perfect symmetry, the stark whiteness of the paper. She wasn’t sure she remembered how to take notes anyway. Could she even write? She held her pen poised over the paper for a split second, and then brought it down to form a jagged letter ‘C.’ The ‘L’ followed tentatively. The ‘A’ was indecipherable. She paused.
You can do it, Clara
, she said to herself encouragingly.
You can do anything
. And she knew she was right because she had taken her special pills.
***
They sat at dinner, Beatrice itching to talk but unsure if things were back to normal. She wanted them to be. She missed Clara.
Clara pushed her food around then started eating tiny morsels when she caught sight of her mother watching her.
“I have another solo,” Beatrice said tentatively. “In the end-of-year play.”
“That’s so great, sweetie,” Ellen replied.
Clara smiled at Beatrice. “I’m proud of you, Bea,” she said, and Beatrice warmed all over.
“Will you be able to come, Clara?” Beatrice asked.
“What kind of question is that?” Clara asked. “Of course I’ll be able to come.”
“I didn’t know if you had to go back to the hospital,” Beatrice said, then wished she could take it back.
Clara smirked—something she hadn’t done in a long time. It felt strange and wonderful.
“Only if I have another mental breakdown, Bea,” Clara said. “But I think I’ll be okay.”
Ellen huffed. “It’s not something to joke about, Clara.”
Clara winked at Beatrice who stifled a giggle.
“I’m serious, girls,” Ellen warned.
“Oh, Mom,” Clara said airily. “Take a chill pill.” And then she reached over for her bottles. “Here, take one of mine,” she offered and burst out laughing. The laughter bubbled up from deep within, and she thought she would choke on it. It felt so good, and she wanted to keep laughing like that until her final breath.
Beatrice and her mother looked at Clara. They weren’t sure if it was normal laughter or crazy laughter.
“I made a joke!” Clara wheezed, and Beatrice giggled.
“Very funny, Clara,” Ellen said, and then she cracked a smile.
“A chill pill!” Clara said cackling even more.
“Ha ha,” Clara’s mom replied, but then it turned into real laughter.
They sat at the dinner table and laughed until the laughter ushered tears.
“Jesus, what’s wrong with us?” Ellen asked in between giggles. She wiped her eyes. “Are we mental?”
Clara couldn’t breathe for the fresh wave that hit her. She pounded the table with laughter, trying desperately to gulp down air, feeling her body give up the ghost of the past. They could call her a freak, make fun of her in every way, and she no longer cared. Her mother had made a joke, and Clara didn’t care about anything else but sitting at the table in their tiny kitchen laughing her heart out.
***
“How was the psych ward, Clara?” Amy asked. She had never said a word to Clara until now, and Clara liked it that way because she was afraid of Amy. But that was before. Clara was not afraid of Amy anymore.
“Very relaxing,” Clara replied sweetly. “Thank you for asking.”
Amy was not deterred. “Did you go in there screaming and threatening their lives? Did they have to strap you down? Put you in one of those strait jackets?”
Students congregated in the hallway to listen. Clara noticed that Florence was among them.
“Did they give you a lobotomy?” Amy asked, emboldened by the growing crowd.
Clara thought for a moment. “All of the above,” she replied.
A few students laughed. Amy was furious.
“I can’t imagine what you looked like foaming at the mouth,” she sneered.
“Not pretty, let me tell you,” Clara said. “But they just stuck a needle in my arm, and before I knew it, I was sleeping like a baby.”
More students laughed, and Amy doubled her efforts.
“So now you’re taking all kinds of pills because you’re a psycho?!” she screamed.
Clara grinned at her. “So many that sometimes I can’t keep track, and that’s never a good thing. You better watch out,” she said playfully in a singsong voice. She turned to Florence who stood staring in wonder. And then Florence smiled at her, and Clara smiled back.
“You’re a fucking psycho, Clara!” Amy yelled desperately.
Clara turned on her heel and headed down the hallway. She heard Florence say, “You’re a bitch, Amy,” and other students muttering in agreement. She continued down the corridor passing right by Evan whom she didn’t notice.
***
Clara was absorbed in the words of a new novel and did not notice him. Only when she looked up at the sound of the tardy bell did she see him sitting beside her. She jumped, but she said nothing. He said nothing. He opened his notebook and held his pen. She blinked a few times, unsure if she was hallucinating. But he was there. Silent, but there.
***
Evan sat beside her for the rest of the week. He never said a word, and neither did she. She read them, not spoke them. And the few that she did have were stolen away, drowned in the glass of water she used to wash down her pills. The bell rang, he sat down. The bell rang fifty minutes later, he walked out.
***
She looked up from her novel as she sat at her usual table in the cafeteria. He stood over her, holding his tray, waiting. She nodded, and he sat down across from her. He uncapped his bottled water and unwrapped his sandwich. He said nothing as he ate, only handing her an extra napkin when he noticed she didn’t have one. She took it and said, “Thank you.”