A/N: TGGBOC is on semi-hiatus until I figure out what I'm going to do with it, because there's another story out there like it, and the author seems to be reading my mind, so I need some original ideas. In the meantime, because I'm such a big Mindy/Allison Scagliotti-Smith fan, here' s a Mindy-centric story. I just found out (or like, remembered) that my friend's parents are named Josh and Mindy. Strange world. Anyhow, because no one ever talks about Mindy's time in the "cuckoo hut" I decided I would.
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Chrysalis
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I don't want to be here.
That's all I can think of right now.
We pull up to Saint Dymphna's Mental Health Rehabilitation Center in our nondescript black Suburban and we get out. My mother has one hand on my left arm and my father is holding onto my right shoulder, my huge pink hardside suitcase in his left hand. Sarah's in the car watching Jeremy. I'm glad they're not coming in with us, because right now I have tears streaming down my face. My mom is trying not to cry, and I can tell because of the shuddering in her breath. My dad's grip on my shoulder gets tighter the closer we get to the sliding doors.
Finally one of my feet hits the big gray doormat. I turn around and I can see Sarah's face against the window. She's crying too, and I wave and blow a kiss. She catches it, just like we've done since she was old enough to mimic. For a second, I wonder why I can't just be normal like everyone else I know. My mom gives me a strange look, but then the question in her eyes turns to understanding. But I don't understand at all.
The doors slide open with a whoosh and a blast of air-conditioned wind hits us as we step into the marble-floored lobby. Haphazardly I wipe my eyes with a fist as we walk up to the check-in counter. My toes are curled up in my bunny slippers and I'm wearing a sweatshirt two sizes two big and pajama pants. No need to get dressed up.
"Name?" the roundish blonde nurse asks.
"Melinda Crenshaw," my mother attempts to steady her voice.
"Room 504," the nurse says with a smile and points to the elevators. "Up to the fifth floor and take a left to the end of the hallway."
My parents nod and try to return the smile. I don't even bother, just continue to silently sob. We poke the elevator button to coax the car down the cable, and the doors slide open. Fifth floor button. Doors open. Already I can sense repetition.
The hallway is painted pink with teal carpet, obviously trying to imitate a posh hotel. What a horrible décor job, I think bitterly. Finally at the end of the hall, I see a sign with "504" written on it.
"Here we are," my mother nods and chokes back her sob. "Are you ready?"
Pulling the handle, I open the big wooden door and look inside. The entire wall is glass and faces out onto the San Diego skyline, with a balcony so I can enjoy smog at my leisure. A coffee table with a chair sits in front of the window and a TV is up on a swivel-stand in the top corner of the room. A day bed huddles against the off-white wall and a nightstand next to it, the door to the closet behind that. Another door, presumably to the bathroom, hides in the corner, and a papason chair takes up more space.
"It's… nice," my father tries.
Since leaving the house, I've not said a word.
My mom sits down in the papason and my dad, after rolling my suitcase into the corner, sits in the chair next to the coffee table. I remain standing in the middle of the room, silently taking stock of everything. There's a mini-fridge under the nightstand which I didn't notice at first, and I wonder what's in there. On the coffee table is a stack of pamphlets which my mother picks up and leafs through. "Here's a schedule of all the fun activities here," she says and puts a yellow flyer down. A stack of to-reads builds up quickly from there, with my new school schedule and therapy schedule just two of the best-sellers in it.
When she's finished them off, my mother sits back and hands me a tote bag that I didn't notice was on her arm. "Here are some must-haves," my mother explains as I sit down on the bed and peer into the bag, expecting a poisonous snake to strike. I bravely put a hand in and pull out first an Eighteen magazine with a note on it, explaining that I now have a subscription. Similarly I encounter Teen Persons and Teen Trend. There are four novels hiding in the bottom of the bag and I pull them out as well, smiling for the first time in the past month. My favorites—mysteries. Along with a box of tampons and some makeup, the rest of the bag's contents are pretty mundane. Lastly, I pull out a pair of beautiful violet-colored beaded earrings. "Those are to wear when you have your dance next month," my mother smiles.
"Thanks," I whisper weakly. "I really appreciate it."
"We'll be back to visit next weekend," my father sighs. "We'll come around every month. Be sure to call us often, Melly. If ever you need anything that you can't get here, call us and we'll have it right over." He hands me my blue teddy bear that he had carried up with us, and I hug the bear to my chest. "We've paid for unlimited minutes per month for phone service, so call whenever you want."
"We love you, and we always will." My mother stands up and nods to my father.
"I know," I sigh, barely audible. "I know."
Both of my parents step forward and we group hug, and my mother picks up her purse and then they're gone down the hall, down the elevator, down the hall, down the highway.
Sitting on my bed, I look around and realize for the first time where I am. I am in a crazy hut hospital for the mentally screwed over. I don't understand how I could possibly deserve this. Looking at my watch, I pick up the schedules. Today is Sunday, so my classes start tomorrow. It's six forty-five, so I can go down for dinner and my first group therapy session. Therapy for what? I shouldn't be here. I'm not crazy. I don't know why everyone's thinking I am.
I sigh and open the door to the bathroom. It's nice enough, with a combination bath/shower, but all I want is the sink. I wash my face quickly and put on enough makeup to look presentable, and then I go back into my new room and pull on some jeans and my black flats. Dinner is in the cafeteria, and my therapy session's in room 208, but I decide to go to the therapy room first to check it out. I'm not hungry.
Grabbing Teen Persons in case boredom attacks, I take the elevator to the second floor and get out. It looks much more hospitaly than my floor. The nurse's stations number two on floor five, but here they number infinity. There are more nurses than I've seen anywhere at one time milling around, talking to each other, and catching quick naps leaning up against doorposts. I realize that I'm probably not the only person here, and that a lot of the people here probably aren't wrongly convicted and probably are crazy. Squeezing my way through the nurses, I find room 208.
Peeking inside, I see a nice-looking woman sitting at a desk typing on a laptop, and she looks up and spies me. "Hi, I bet you're Melinda Crenshaw."
"Mindy," I nod.
"I'm Katie," she smiles, tucking a strand of her cropped brown hair behind her ear. "So you'll be joining us for therapy?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna head to the cafeteria first," I reply.
"Oh, we're ordering pizza tonight. It's the first night for a lot of new people."
I smile slightly. "Cool. Should I just hang here then?"
"Sure," Katie smiles again.
I flip open Teen Persons and am halfway through the letters section when a girl comes into the room. She has blonde super-curly hair in a braid down to her shoulders and walks straight up to Katie, sticking her hand out. "I'm Jessica," she introduces herself. Katie shakes her hand and keeps on smiling. The grinning is definitely getting annoying.
Jessica chats with Katie for a minute and then comes to sit next to me. She sticks her hand out at me and beams. "I'm Jessica."
I ignore her hand and nod politely. "Mindy."
"This is going to be interesting, hmm?" She looks over at my magazine. "Ugh, I can't believe people are wearing this stuff," she scoffs, pointing to an ad with a model wearing purple eyeshadow halfway up her forehead. I merely nod and make an affirmative noise. She seems to get the point and leans back, glancing at the clock.
I look out the window. The sun is setting and the sky is slightly cloudy, wind whipping the trees around. I hope it rains.
A few more kids trickle in and finally it's seven. The pizza arrives and we all dig in. I take a slice of pepperoni and curl up in my chair. No one has talked to me except for Jessica. I suppose I'm being rude. So what?
"Welcome to therapy," Katie says with the omnipresent smile. "Let's go around and introduce ourselves."
The first girl is Jamie, from Dallas. Jessica's next—she's from Albany. I'm quickly surprised by how far away people have come from to come here. There's a somewhat cute guy, Taylor, who's from Silver Springs in Maryland. And then there's me.
"I'm Mindy," I say sans smile, "and I live here, in San Diego."
A few more girls and more guys introduce themselves, and then Katie speaks again.
"So, this is many of you guys' first therapy session for loss of a sibling."
My heart practically stops, and I raise my hand. "Hold on, I must be in the wrong class," I explain. "I haven't lost a sibling."
Katie looks concerned. "Um, your parents signed you up for your therapies when they paid tuition."
"There's been a mistake." I am relentless. "I haven't lost a sibling. I have a ten-year-old sister, Sarah, and a baby brother, Jeremy."
"Um…" Katie looks speechless. "You don't have any siblings," she says softly.
"This must be a mistake," I yell. "I have two siblings!"
Katie gets up and comes to my side. "Mindy, your sister and brother died two months ago in a car accident."
"You're a liar!" I scream and slap her across the face. Her entire head turns red, her silver double-piercing standing out from the crimson. "I have two siblings!"
I get up from my chair and run down the hall. My flats are costing me space, and Katie's gaining on me, so I take them off and throw them at her. One of them hits her in the stomach and I almost feel bad, but I don't. My bare feet slap the carpet and I zip into the elevator just as it's closing.