Broken Glass (21 page)

That week, I became very quiet. I wasn’t sure if Julianne had taken notice, but I didn’t care. My goal had been to get out of Craneville as soon as possible. With a year ahead of me, I didn’t see any point in trying to get better. I was going to die in this place. It was just inevitable.

I started to draw and sketch frequently to pass the time. It was always the same drawing. Something from my dreams...my nightmares. The tree. The tree from Tyson’s wreck. That tree they found him in...the tree that had killed him.

All I could do was draw that damned tree. It was like I couldn’t stop drawing it until every branch, every leaf, every piece of bark on it was absolutely perfect.

I could never get it perfect.

So I kept on drawing. 

I was walking to the activities room for dinner, a week after Channing had left, and I was stopped by Josephine.

“Hey, baby! I got somethin’ for ya!”

I gave her a confused look.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“You got a letter, dumplin’!” She held out a crisp, white envelope.

            “A letter?” I questioned, taking it from her. From who? My mother didn’t write me letters...

“From Miss Channing,” Josephine smiled.

“Channing?” I asked, surprised. “Um, thanks, Josephine.”

I turned and slowly started walking back towards the activities room. Channing had sent me a letter?

As I was staring down at the unopened envelope in my hand, I bumped into someone, hard, causing me to drop the letter.

“Sorry!”

I looked up.

“Oh, hey!” I said, surprised to see Conner standing there. “I-I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He smiled and bent down, picking up my letter. He held it out to me.

“You dropped this,” he said, still smiling.

“Um, oh, yeah,” I took it from him. Why was I acting so nervous?

“How are you, Ava?” he asked.

Ava
. He remembered my name. Why had he remembered my name?

“Uh, I’m okay,” I replied. “Just going to get something to eat. What are you doing
here...
Conner
?”

There. I’d said it, too. I remembered his name, too.

“Oh, um, just delivering some paperwork from the third floor,” he told me. “I started my internship at Craneville today.”

“Internship?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’m starting my internship in psychiatric medicine.”

“Oh, you went to the university to be...a doctor,” I blinked. “That’s...wow.”

“Well, thank you,” he chuckled. “Following in my mother’s footsteps, I guess.” He rolled his eyes.

“Your
mom is real
ly good at what she does
,” I told him, softly. Our eyes met then, and suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

“Conner, what are you still doing here?”

We both turned, breaking our eye contact, and saw Julianne walk up.

“Oh, I just bumped into Ava,” Conner told her.

“Oh, well what were you two talking about?” she asked, giving us a both an odd look.

“Nothing much,” I said. “I got a letter from Channing.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” Julianne replied, smiling. “How is she doing?”

Why would Julianne ask me how Channing was doing? She was her therapist, after all. That’s when I realized Julianne was making simple exit conversation. You know the kind; sh
e was trying to get rid of me—
probably to
tell Conner to quit having small talk with crazy patients.

“I haven’t opened her letter yet,” I replied, faking a smile. “I think I’ll go do that now.” I turned to Conner.

“See you,” I said, walking past them to the activities room.

“What’s the matter with you?”  Henry asked me, as I picked at my dinner plate
later
.

“Nothing,” I replied, quickly. “Why?”

“You’re not talking,” Shakespeare spoke up. “And you’re not even people-watching.”

“And you always people-watch,” Henry added.

I shrugged and pushed my plate back.

“I think my pills are just making me tired,” I sighed. “Channing wrote me a letter.”

“Quick change of thought,” Henry laughed. “What’d the letter say?”

“Dunno,” I replied. “I didn’t open it yet. I got distracted before dinner.”

“With Julianne’s son?” Shakespeare asked. I shot him a look. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but for some reason, I’d questioned his comment.

“Yeah, so?” I snapped, beginning to push my food around my plate again.

“I was just saying!” Shakespeare said. “Geez! I saw you talking to him.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I’m just tired.”

I glanced at Henry, who was grinning widely.

“What?” I asked, frowning.

“Do you have a little crush on the shrink’s son?” he asked, his grin growing.

“Shut up,” I snarled, getting to my feet and grabbing my plate. I walked off, ignoring Shakespeare and Henry as they called after me.

I immediately opened Channing’s letter when I got to my room. It was written on three pages of wide-ruled, notebook paper in purple ink with something that looked like a coffee stain on the bottom
right hand
corner. I smiled at her child-like handwriting.

Ava
, I read.

I’m sure you’re surprised I’m writing you this. You probably thought you’d never hear from me again. That’s what happens in ‘real life’, isn’t it? People close the book on something or someone in their life and tuck it away for what it was worth when it was part of the present. But not me. I’m not much of a fan of ‘real life’, anyway.

Things are all right back at home. Everyone is going through the motions. I don’t have any friends, of course, and my family has done an excellent job of keeping me indoors—hidden from society. They make me wonder if they told everyone I died instead of going to a mental institution. They are super nice to me…I can tell my mother missed me. My dad doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t seem to think ill towards me.

I still have hope for you that you will get better and get back to the world you left behind. I promise that hope is very real. But I am very unhappy here in the real world. I am sad to say I miss Craneville. I miss being with people that are my own brand of ‘normal’.

My parents took down all the pictures of my little brother that died in the crash I caused.
I said his name the other day. No one responded. My mother looked at me as though she didn’t have a clue as to who I was talking about. Is this really the reality I prayed so hard to get back to?

My older brother seems to be the center of everyone’s world right now, which is fine with me. I sort of want to be left alone, to be honest. That’s something else I never told you that everyone knows, but no one really speaks about. My older brother. His name is Sam. Aurelia’s Sam. He’s not engaged or married. He was just accepted to law school. He has been asking me about Aurelia. I’m scared for her. At least I know she’s safe in Craneville.

I’ll try to come visit soon. I miss everyone. The best memory I have in Craneville is the people. Even the worst person is the best, because at least they are real. Maybe when you get out, you’ll be strong enough to bring that real with you into the world.

Love,

Channing

I sat, very still, for what seemed like hours, after reading Channing’s letter.

The cold realization hit me...that realization that I was here, in this place. In this
prison
. And worse, I had put myself here. It was my own fault I was in Craneville.

But would the next year turn me into someone like Channing? Someone who didn’t want to ever leave; to ever go back into the real world?

There was a soft knock on my door then, breaking my thoughts.

“Ava?” Henry poked his head in. “Is it all right if I come in?”

I smiled.

“Of course,” I said.

He shut the door behind him and sat on the floor in front of my bed so he was facing me.

“Are you still mad at me from earlier?” he asked immediately. I shook my head.

“Sorry I snapped,” I apologized to him. “I just...I guess I’m just tired or something.”

“Conner is
gorgeous
,” Henry blurted out. My mouth dropped open.

“Henry!”

“What!” He laughed. “He is! Those eyes, that hair, that accent...he’s adorable.”

“He’s a doctor,” I informed him. 

“Oh, really?” Henry raised his eyebrows. “Sexy.”

“Well, he’s not a doctor yet,” I said. “He’s doing his internship here.”

“Wow, you two had quite the conversation today, hm
m
?” Henry was smiling. I just shrugged.

“So did you read Channing’s letter?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah,” I said.

“And?” he asked.

“She’s...happy, I guess,” I told him. “And confused. And she misses everyone. She says hello.”

“She’s confused?” Henry asked. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “I’m just babbling. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” I breathed. “Anything
normal
.”

“What’s your favorite movie?” he asked. I managed a tiny smile.

“
Gladiator
,” I answered.

“Russell Crowe?” he asked. “Why?”

“It’s the movie I watched with Tyson on the first night I met him,” I replied quietly. I was surprised when he shook his head as if he were disappointed.

“Does everything about you come back to him?” Henry asked me, in a very gentle voice. “Is anything about you come from
just you
?”

“He was my world,” I said simply.

“Didn’t you have a world before Tyson?” Henry asked. I looked away from him.

“I don’t remember it,” I whispered. Henry sighed and got to his feet.

“Then I am very sad for you,” he said. I looked up at him. He had this look of defeat in his eyes.

“Good night,” he said then, and left my room.

A minute later, I burst into tears.

The next day, I avoided Henry like the plague. I only saw him when I had to, and I made sure to grab lunch and dinner when he and Shakespeare wouldn’t be in the activities room.

I had also made the decision not to talk about Tyson in my therapy sessions with Julianne anymore. And I wouldn’t wear the ‘Rose Madder’ t-shirt ever again, either. Henry had made it perfectly clear that I was pathetic about Tyson and Julianne was making me stay another year because I couldn’t get over him. What was the point in feeding everyone’s
judgments
about me?

“You never told me your son was from England,”
I remarked to Julianne one day in therapy, wanting to shift gears on topic a little. I was so tired of talking about myself.
“Or that he was so young. Now that I think of it, you never tell me hardly anything about yourself.” Julianne smiled.

“That’s because we’re not here to talk about me,” she said simply. “We’re here to talk about you.” I sighed.

“Well, a friendship goes two ways,” I told her. “And I know you’re my therapist, but I consider
you a friend as well. I’d like to know a little about your life.” Julianne sat there for a minute, just looking at me with a grin on her lips. Finally, she pushed her reading glasses on top of her head and put down her
notepad.

“What would you like to know, Ava?” she asked me.

“Hmmm,” I said, surprised, delighted, and taken off guard at her giving into my demands so easily. “Well, what about your husband? How’d you meet him? I’m assuming he’s the one from England, right?”

“Yes,” she replied with a smile. “I went on a trip to Europe with my older sister when I was eighteen, and I met him when we got lost in London. He was the only one nice enough looking for me to ask for directions to get us back to our hotel.”

“Older sister?” I asked.

“Yes, Mabel,” she said. “She was twenty-eight at the time, and recently married.”

“Did you know he was the One when you first saw him?” I asked, excited to hear such an interesting story from her. “Your husband, I mean.”

“Mmmm, yes, I think so,” she said, smiling slightly. “I definitely thought he was handsome and charming…and I was very intrigued by him.”