TRIGGER WARNING: tough stuff ahead.

Chapter 10. Depression too, is a kind of fire

Clay hadn't heard from Hannah in several days, a change from her usual prompt texts. He knew something was wrong like it had been in November but he didn't know how to ask her about it and he didn't who to tell about his concerns and he would not have been able to articulate them if he did. He didn't have the vocabulary. Yesterday he had received a text from her, the first in days, that had just said a single word, "sick." That was all. When she had been sick right after New Year's, she'd welcomed company and they'd watched Pirates of the Caribbean (one of her favorite movies) while eating soup, her in a Disney snuggie and a face mask to keep him from getting sick as well. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't say what.

"Hi Mrs. Baker!" Clay said as he approached the house.

"Hello Clay. We're just about heading out. Was Hannah expecting you? She's been sick, poor thing. She's barely left her room," Olivia Baker replied.

"I haven't heard from her but I thought I would see if she wanted company watching bad movies or something."

"She's had a nasty stomach bug for a couple of days now and I am sure she would love to see you," Andy Baker said. "Head on in. We're going out to dinner but we'll be back by 10."

"Have a good time at dinner," Clay wished them as he headed inside.

"Such a polite kid," Clay heard Olivia Baker comment.

"Hannah?" Clay called out, heading for her room. He pushed open her door but she was nowhere to be found. "Hannah?" he called louder. A moan answered him from the bathroom.

Memories from the rest of the night were in bits and snatches. Barging into the bathroom. Hannah, pale. Throwing something (a book, he found out later) out her bedroom window in a desperate attempt to get her parents' attention. Mr. Baker frozen in place as Mrs. Baker screamed at him to call 911. The sirens pulling up. Hannah on the stretcher being loaded into the truck as her mother climbed inside. Mr. Baker ushering Clay into the car. Mr. Baker staring straight ahead, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The waiting room, white and sterile and dingy all at the same time, making him slightly nauseous. An episode of Price is Right playing distantly. You won the showcase show down. Mrs. Baker walking into the room and collapsing in Mr. Baker's arms. Clay didn't realize people could actually, physically collapse from heartbreak. A phone going off somewhere and looking down to see it was his. He couldn't remember how phones worked. Mr. Baker saying something into the phone? Maybe to Clay's mother? Someone in scrubs putting a cup of something warm into his hands. Was he hungry? How long had they been here, months? Seconds? Minutes? Years? What was time? "You can go see her for a minute." Hannah, still so pale in the bed, her stringy hair spread around her head like a halo, asleep and on monitors. Her hands so cold. Lines of fluid and needles going into her. Machines upon machines. Beeping. The woman on the other side of the curtain groaning. Warm, gentle hands leading him away and into the car. Falling into bed, not even taking off his clothes.

Title is from a poem by Taylor Mali in reference to the suicide of his wife. I've included a quote below.

"…I was going to write a poem about how fire is the only thing that can make a person jump out of a window. And maybe I'm an idiot for thinking I could have saved her, call me her knight in shattered armor, could have loved her more...but depression too is a kind of fire and I know nothing of either."