Chapter Two: New and Beautiful Faces

Mort reached the table, tentatively. If she was crazy, she would possibly yell at him, "rape" or something, and he'd get his crayons revoked, something he couldn't bare. He mentally prepared himself for a scream, and asked carefully

"Are you new here?"

The girl looked up, and Mort saw her eyes were large and dark black/blue, framed by thick black lashes. She looked at him a little worriedly, obviously concerned that she was in a place where everyone, well, nearly, was absolutely insane..

"Yes." she answered slowly. She was making sure he wasn't going to go psychotic on her ass and stab her with his fork. And with good reason. Mort had seen people here do just that.

"You don't look crazy." Mort told her. That made the girl smile. She had a pretty smile. That summed her up mostly. Pretty.

"I'm not." she said. Mort smiled a little. Like he hadn't heard that before. Or said it.

"Oh yeah? Then why are you here?" he asked. The girl didn't look offended, but kept her pretty smile. She gestured to the seat in front of her.

"Want to sit down?" she asked. She had a nice voice, kind of rich and smooth. Mort nodded, pulled out the chair and sat down, opposite the girl. She sized him up with her eyes, something Mort was used too, as he had done the exact same thing. Then, to his surprise, she extended a hand to him.

"Blue Callahan." she said. Mort tried to hide his surprise at the friendliness, and took her hand, which was incredibly warm. It was an odd name, but Mort said nothing about it.

"Mort Rainey"

She let go of his hand, and sat back in her seat, obviously watching him.

"You had a question?" she asked. Mort nodded carefully..

"Why are you here?" he asked. He had bets on her being bi-polar, although he decided not to play the guessing game with her.

"Oh. I'm here creatively. I'm going to be in the show about the human condition, so I have to get some inspiration "

Mort had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. She wasn't crazy, she was an artist. One in the same, some would say. He nodded, trying to wrap his mind around it, and took a sip of coffee.

"So, what kind of show?" he asked.

"An art show. I'm a painter. It's this big thing at the Museum of Modern Art. Suffering, and all that. They let you pick a topic, and do a painting on it. Then, next year, I guess, they'll show it." she explained. Mort was impressed., but his mouth was now full of eggs, so he just nodded.

Blue regarded him for a second, and then asked the Number 1 Question:

"So, why are you here?"

She didn't ask like she was scared, which Mort liked. More like she was asking what his favorite band was, or what was his preferred flavor of ice cream. Mort momentarily considered telling her about Amy and Ted, but realized that it wasn't such a good idea. It wasn't safe too so he just shrugged. He decided to tell her only his condition (or what his doctor had told him) to be safe. Safety was defiantly first.

"I had another personality" Mort said slowly. Blue raised her eyebrows and took a bite of her bagel, and licked some cream cheese off her lips. Mort twisted his hands in his lap at the sight of the very sexual display, innocent on her part, but which wasn't left unnoticed by him. How long since he'd gotten laid? Too fucking long, that was how.

"And it's gone now?" Blue asked. Mort looked up to see if she was making fun of him, but she was completely earnest. He nodded.

"Yeah. It's gone"

"Oh. Well, that's good right?"

Mort shrugged, even though honestly, it was very, very good.

They talked like that for a while. Mort told her about his writing, (which she had never read, but heartily promised to), how much he depended on the crayons, and revealed a little about his marriage (how Amy had cheated, and they had gotten divorced). When Blue asked where Amy was, he shrugged and said "With Ted". Which was honestly true. Just hot the whole truth.

However, what was far more interesting was what Mort learned about Blue. She was 30 (although she didn't look it) and lived in New York. (City, not state) with her French bulldog Henri, and was an Art History major. She was also divorced, from lead singer of the alternative band Kill Polo, which Mort had on his iPod. When he asked her about it she simply said "He was an asshole." and that was the end of that. Mort found her absolutely wonderful. He hadn't had a conversation like this, with an actual normal person that wasn't his therapist, in ages. He found he wanted to know even more about her, but decided to hold off until later. Maybe tomorrow. They had just gotten into a debate on coffee (Starbucks, or not to Starbucks) when the white overhead speaker crackled, and a nurse named Myrna's voice rasped

"All members of group E report to the board room .All members of group E report to the board room. Y'all have a great day now."

Mort rolled his eyes, and sighed deeply.

"That's me. We have our group therapy." He found he felt ok with saying that to her, like he didn't have to be ashamed of it. Blue nodded.

"You better go. They might take away your crayons." she said with a almost-serious face. Mort grinned, and got up from the table, taking his tray with him.

"Well, we can't have that." he paused. "Will you be here for lunch?"

It was a big step for Mort. A huge fucking big step. What if she said "Ah, no, sorry, I don't do psychopathic killers with dual personalities, one of a drawling hick, thanks anyway."? He might totally loose it, and Janice would take away his crayons before he even wrote a word. But instead of Mort's insecure fears being confirmed, Blue have him a smile and nodded.

"Definitely"

He stood there for half a second, waiting to wake up. But he didn't.

"Oh, and bring one of your books with you." she said as he started to walk away. He nodded, and matched her smile with his own, before dumping his tray and walking out of the cafeteria, feeling better than he had been in months.


The group was somber. It was about patients relationships, marriage, and so forth. A group full of tears and sobs, and much encouraging words by the therapist, Dr. Chang. Yet one man in the room didn't cry, didn't get upset. No one, patient or doctor could understand why Mort Rainy, usually the most hostile person there had nothing angry to say. Not that he was happy, or rejoicing (Dr. Chang new Mort was a cynical man, and it would take a while for him to get fully confident in himself again) He was docile as a lamb, none of the usual curses or bursts of anger, even when Dr. Chang asked about when he had found his wife in bed with another man. Rainy had replied

"It's in the past, Dr. Chang. Lets not talk about it anymore."

However, the group, ( especially one particular member who had been watching Mort lustily since he'd gotten the Blanchard), were even more puzzled when Dr. Chang asked Rainy what his hopes and dreams for the future was, and Rainy simply replied

"Lunch."

Chapter Two: New and Beautiful Faces