Pretend Carefully

XxX

"Hello, Ponyboy."

"Uh, hello." I settle into a chair. Fold my hands together and wait for my first therapy session to begin.

"Nurse Wilkes said you were in withdrawal last evening. That you skipped dinner."

"Yes, sir."

"And how did you feel about that?" At my blank stare, Please continues. "Confused? Relieved?"

"I guess…relieved."

Please murmurs something and makes a note on a yellow pad of paper. He looks up. "Any other symptoms?"

I think of the red. "Um, dizziness. That's about it."

"I see. Well, that's a start." Smiling, Dr. Please opens my folder. "I couldn't place it when we first met, Ponyboy, but I knew I remembered you from somewhere." My stomach sinks as he unveils the clippings of me, Johnny and Dallas. Then he shows me some more, earlier clippings. My mom and dad on the front page, the word ACCIDENT in black, bold letters. I slump lower in my chair.

Doctor Please says, "First your parents, then your best friends. Son, it's no surprise you've been feeling the feelings you have for some time now."

I exhale, not meeting his eyes, looking toward the window. The morning sun is brimming on the horizon, yellow and golden. It moves through the dim office, casting a yellow hue on the gray. "What do you want me to say?"

"Exactly that. I want to talk."

"About what? Feelings?"

"If you'd like to."

"What if I don't?"

"Then we'll sit here. Waste the hour." Please cocks a brow. "Unless you have something to say that is."

I draw myself up, finally giving him a glance. "Yeah, I have something to say. I don't want crayons anymore."

"Excuse me?"

"I want a real pencil or a pen. To write."

The doctor chuckles. "Oh yes, Nurse Jeffries told me about that."

"Who?"

"Nurse Jeffries…?"

"Oh, yeah, right." Apple Face.

"You do understand why we take precautions, Ponyboy? So that no harm comes to you or another."

"But I just want to write. I'm not going to do anything." I run a hand through my hair, deciding to test the waters. "'Sides, how can I in here? It's like Alcatraz." I watch his face for a flicker, for anything but there's nothing. Instead, Dr. Please glances at my chart.

"You've said so yourself you've entertained suicidal thoughts. Want to tell me about those?"

My eyes have gone wide; I can feel them, letting in the sunlight from the window, dilating my pupils. When I'm silent he says, "Ponyboy, I'll make you a deal. If you talk to me about this, I'll let you have a pencil for an hour a day in the rec room."

I think fast. My brain flashes back two, three, four years, chasing my memories like snapshots. I dig down deep for some semblance of truth. What I find stings.

"After…after Johnny and Dal died, I, uh, I used to go out to the lake by our house...Lake Elmo. We used to fish there when we were little…" My voice sounds weird; hesitant and far-away. It also sounds flat like Darry's does when he's worried or afraid. I continue.

"My brothers didn't know I went there. Sometimes I'd go after school. Sometimes on the weekends when Darry or Soda were pulling a double. I'd go down to that lake and I'd just stare at the water, how calm it was, how still. It was so blue but murky. Like on the surface it was perfect but deep down it was dark and rough. You could just get lost in it. And all I wanted to do was just climb inside and go deep. Just swim out to the middle and sink. I never wanted to come back up."

There's a long silence. In a voice I barely hear, Please says, "Ponyboy, what stopped you?"

I cover my eyes. "My brothers. They always stop me."

XxX

20 minutes later I nearly bolt from Dr. Please's office. I slam the door shut, doing all I can not to break into a sprint on the way back to my room. Where the hell did that come from? It was too much. I didn't want to dig. I didn't know. I think of those trips down to the lake I used to take after school. I remembered the lake – but not that. Not that.

I wipe my eyes and move fast. I round the corner, room in sight when there's a tug on my elbow. "Easy, honey," Nurse Wilkes says as I jump and back away. "You have morning visitors."

I blink.

XxX

After the initial hug, I take a seat next to Two-Bit on the couch. He peers at me closely. "What happened? You look weird."

I look away. "Thanks a lot."

He squeezes my arm. "No, really, what happened?"

"Nothing." I glance over at Steve. "What're you doing here?"

"We should be asking you that, kid. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Soda knows. Ask him."

"I did." Steve leans forward, chest nearly touching his knees. "And what I wanna know is if that story is really worth this?" Steve swirls around his index finger next to his temple. "There was a woman down the hall wearing nothing but a bathrobe and screaming about voices." Steve's mouth turns up. "I mean I always knew you were destined for a place like this but never thought I'd actually see it…"

I hold up my middle finger. "Hey!" an orderly shouts. "None of that."

Two-Bit's face is dark as he stares at Steve. "Don't. It ain't funny."

"Well, hell, if golden boy here knows what he's doing, we might as well turn 'im loose. He's 18 now or didn't you hear?"

"Leave it alone, man." Sighing, I pull out a pack of cigarettes, going through the unconscious motion. "I'm trying to get off these pills, Steve. Jesus, sue me." I pull a stick out, pop it in my mouth, light it and—

Steve snatches it away, crumpling the stick in his palm. He dumps it on the dirty blue tile. Glaring at him, I tug out another stick. This time, Two-Bit grabs the entire pack and the stick, crushing both like garbage.

Frustrated, I sink back against the couch, pulling my feet up, to rest my heels on the couch cushion. I wrap my arms around my knees, bow my head. "Sorry. This is just really hard."

There's a cool hand on the back of my neck. I raise my head, looking right. Two-Bit says, "You'll be okay, kid."

I look left. Steve's hands are balled into fists. But he just nods anyway.

XxX

The common room clears out. I stay seated on the couch, running things over in my mind. The therapy, Steve's and Two-Bit's visit. I'm tired, slightly queasy and I wonder if it's the meds. I toe the crumpled and broken smokes on the ground with nostalgia. The orderly, hovering in the corner, chatting with a nurse, catches my attention. Reminds me of other things.

XxX

I go wait for a phone. While I'm in line, Marie drops by. "Who you callin', child?" Her red hair bounces.

"A friend."

"Sure have a lot of friends. Visitors, yesterday, today. Popular boy." She flashes a smile and rambles down the hall. My turn comes and I drop in coins and punch in numbers.

"Max here."

"It's Pony."

"Kid," Max says. "Nick says you're doing swell. You better be, considering what I'm paying."

"No shit," Cherry Hills is not exactly cheap. It's like a nice vacation only with mental issues tossed on top of it. I run my plan by Max and he tells me to go for it.

XxX

I call Nick next. He whispers the details of the meeting with Jamie Coleman's parents. "They'd swear on his grave he wasn't suicidal."

"They said that?" I'm gripping the phone tight.

XxX

When the music plays, at 8pm sharp, I stay in my room. I don't go out for Pill Line-Up. I take shallow breaths. I'm nervous. I wipe sweaty palms on the bedspread and hang tight. At about a quarter past eight the door opens. Apple Face stands there. "You're late," she says. "You know you can't be late." She beckons with a palm. "Come now, Ponyboy. Let's go."

She takes a step and I don't follow. "Ponyboy."

"I don't want to take any more pills," I say. "I won't."

"Young man—"

"No!" I yell and my voice is loud even for me. It reminds me of hollering at Darry when he hollered at Sodapop for sticking up for me that one night long ago. Raising my voice, trying to make it steady. "This place is bullshit."

Her eyes widen as I slam an arm into the plastic water pitcher on my nightstand. Water and the cups go flying, rattling empty on the floor. I stare at them; accomplished, hoping that did it.

Apple Face's mouth moves into a straight line. She presses a button on the wall and then crosses her arms. Two orderlies appear in my doorway.

XxX

The Box is, well, a box. A tiny square full of padding. Padding on the walls, the floor, the ceiling. No windows. It's so white my eyes hurt. I walk the small space, running my hands up and down the wall, searching for a door or a hook or something.

Something.

I try to pull at the locked door. As expected, it doesn't budge. There're no bars on it, no room for anything to be slipped in.

Doug St. John, 38, …the patient, was found hanging in the seclusion room…

I glance up. There's a ceiling grate, maybe three feet above me. But other than that there's no way a man locked in the Box would be able to bring a piece of rope inside with him.

Unless someone gave it to him. Physically opened the door and put it into his hands.

XxX

It's dark and eerily quiet. I sit in the corner of the room, trying to see my hand in front of my face. My mouth is dry. I need a drink of water. I'm sweating something fierce and I know I'm fighting the urge. That dark something I've been keeping under the lake of water.

Confused, I bury my head in my hands and yawn. I think of Darry and Soda. I think of Jamie Coleman, of Doug St. John. My brain formulates ideas.

I yawn again. I really wish I had a pencil.

XxX

The door swings open. It must be sometime later. I wake from sleep, wiping at my eyes. Dr. Please steps into view. Nurse Wilkes is behind him with a tray. I stay seated on the floor.

"Ponyboy, I heard about the situation earlier." I roll my eyes in the dark. Boy howdy; situation. "We're going to give you a few extra pills to go along with the pills you refused to take earlier. Help you calm down."

"But I don't want to calm down," I say, crossing my arms. "I don't want anything else."

"We don't want you to stay in here any longer than you have been," Nurse Wilkes says. "Now be a good boy and take your medicine."

I swallow them down, chase them with water and then go back to my room, led by Nurse Wilkes. I hit the bed hard.

XxX

It feels like I've been sleeping 40 years. When I wake this time, I'm in my room, bringing back flashes of last night. And I want to rush, grab some paper and a crayon and write what I saw but that takes a concentrated effort. My legs are spaghetti, my body a numb center.

"What time is it?" I ask Apple Face as she breezes through the door.

"Nine. You slept in." Miffed, she goes to do her usual routine; open the drapes, check the room. She sets another water pitcher and glass on my nightstand along with a small cup of pills.

"It feels like I just took those," I say, giving them a dirty look.

"That's why we have a schedule, Ponyboy," Apple Face says. "That why you need to take them or you'll fall behind." She crosses her arms, standing over me. "So go ahead. Take them."

XxX

I stay in my room after Apple Face leaves, finally mustering up the energy to write my notes. I change into a pair of jeans and one of Soda's old DX t-shirts that I've brought, noting happily that it still smells like diesel. Crawling back onto the bed, the springs creak.

There's a tap on the door. Stubs swings it open, waltzes in and sits in a chair that's nestled in the corner. I turn my pieces of paper over.

"Heard you caused some commotion last night."

"Nothing too bad."

"How was the Box?"

"Like you said, nothing it was cracked up to be."

Stubs laughs and it's a good sound. A deep chuckle, kind of coarse and raspy. He slaps his hands on his knees and then lights a smoke. "Good to hear, kid. One day in the box is fine but don't go making it a habit. People who do, well, they don't always get right."

"Which reminds me," he continues. "The reason I'm here – there's a phone call for you. I left it danglin'."

XxX

Stubs was right. The phone is hanging from the payphone by its long silver cord, near touching the floor. I pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ponyboy…"

"Sodapop?" I can hear the background noise of the DX, engines revving, Steve hollering at someone, car parts clanging around.

"Ponyboy, are you okay?"

I frown. Soda sounds frantic. "Yeah, Soda I'm fine. Are you okay?"

"I just—" He laughs. "I just had the strangest dream last night."

"You were dreaming?"

"I know, I couldn't believe it myself," Soda says. "I just– all this morning – kept feeling something was wrong. You sure you're okay?"

"Don't worry, Soda. I'm okay."

"Nothing happened? You swear?"

"Sure, I swear. Everything's cool."

He lets out a long breath. "I don't know how you used to have those dreams."

"Practice," I say and Soda laughs.

"C'mon Pony!" Glancing over my shoulder, Marie is waving at me. "Group time." She points at the rec room where my group members are filing in.

"Shit." I turn back to the phone. "Soda, I gotta go."

XxX

Dr. Please, leading the discussion, glances my way. "Ponyboy, you've been quiet the last two sessions. Would you like to say anything?"

"Does anyone have a cigarette?"

Laughter floats from the group and everyone except Lester unveils a pack of cigarettes. I lean over to take one from Marie. "Uh, thanks."

Flora tosses me her lighter. While I'm lighting up she says, "I don't like this group anymore, Dr. Please."

"And why not Flora?"

"It keeps changing. It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"People keep leaving. Then new ones come." My ears perk up at this and I wish to hell I could take notes. Instead, I log them away for later. "I miss the Saint."

"I am sorry. But we have to accommodate everyone."

Flora, pouting, lets the lighter I toss back her way, smack the ground. She doesn't pick it up. I sink lower into the metal chair, the cigarette dangling from my lips. "Ponyboy," Dr. Please says. "Tell us about your choice to smoke."

I go hot all over. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Clearly you're making the decision to smoke despite having an illness."

"Aren't we all sick?" Stubs asks. "Everyone needs something."

Not in any mood for a defender, I cross my arms. "I figure I have to give everything else up, keeping one thing isn't gonna hurt."

"Sounds like you're trying to mask something for another," Please returns. "Why is this?"

"I don't know," I mutter and take a drag on my smoke, making it clear I'm done talking.

Please turns to the Chess Man. "Clarence why do you drink?"

"Because I'm alone."

The two of them get into it, and relieved, I slump down, finishing my cigarette. My eyes widen as Flora pulls out a strand of hair and starts chewing on it. Lester, the big fat man, begins rocking back and forth in his chair. Marie and Stubs just stare straight ahead, smoking.

I touch fingertips to my forehead. Glory, I don't know if I can do this.

XxX

After class, I corner Dr. Please before he can leave. "Any chance of getting that pencil?"

Please smiles, his plastic face looking odd in the movement. "Oh yes, Ponyboy. I'll have Nurse Wilkes bring you one after lunch today. Remember you'll have to be supervised." I nod. "We'll talk more tomorrow."

He walks off.

Annoyed, I spin around, dizzy from the smoke, the discussion. In my haste, I bump into Flora who must have been standing right behind me. "Sorry," I reach out, grabbing her shoulder to steady her. "I didn't mean to…"

Flora's eyes are deep brown. They widen slightly and then squint. She gives me a look. "You may be new but soon you'll be gone too. They all leave us."

I let go of her shoulder.

XxX

The water is cool. I splash another palmful on my face, trying to get rid of the heat coursing through me. My body is rebelling against giving up the pills. Now if only it would let me give up the smokes. I raise my face, a blank white wall staring back at me, and dry it with a few paper towels. It's odd not having a mirror to see myself in. I wonder what I look like.

As I exit the communal men's bathroom, situated in a little nook at the end of the hall, there's a snuffling noise coming from behind. I turn, cautiously, only to find Lester pacing back and forth between the water fountain and the men's room. I stick my hands in my pockets.

"Comin' to lunch, Lester?" He grunts, pushing his slipping glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pacing and muttering. "Yeah," I say, giving a shrug. "I don't really want to go either."

I go to leave and then Lester's shoving me back against the wall. "Whoa," I say, caught off guard. Lester tugs at my shirt. I shove him away, off. "What the hell are you doing?" I yell. He stares at me blankly and then lopes off. I watch his fat backside round the corner and disappear.

I let out a breath I've been holding. I'm shaking. "Jesus Christ."

XxX

The pencil is smooth between my fingers. The orange-yellow color a pleasant sight, especially in the dreary rec room. It's two in the afternoon, lunch is over and I'm ready to write. Nurse Wilkes stands a respectful distance away. Every now and then she'll give me a smile and then turn back to chat with the big, burly orderly who dragged me off to the Box. He's making eye contact with me so I figure there's no hard feelings.

I start writing on the loose-leaf paper, trying to make connections out of thoughts.

The Box, 10 x 10, padded. No windows. Ceiling grate. No way for entry or exit without keys. Who has keys? Doctors, nurses, orderlies…

This has me convinced it's someone inside. But why? I duck my head and continue,

Jamie Coleman. Marie knows. Losing members in group therapy. Who? Ask Flora.

I underline the who with thick strokes. That's when it hits me. Marie had mentioned Jamie Coleman. Flora had mentioned a saint, Doug St. James maybe...people coming and then leaving. New people.

I write Flora's words: You may be new but soon you'll be gone too. They all leave us.

My group members had known at least these two patients. Maybe they knew the rest. I'd have to ask. If they knew the rest…that meant…

Heart pounding, I scribble: Dr. Please was their doctor. All of them.

I feel myself pale. I look up and cover my written words with my hands.

XxX

I weasel a piece of tape from the Nurse at the front desk. The one who checked me in. "Now what you want with this, honey?"

"Craft project."

Back in my room, I fold up my notes into a small square and tape them underneath the drawer of my nightstand.

XxX

Oh, it's so hard to stop there. But I must. It's a long one. I hope I did it justice.

SE Hinton owns the Outsiders.

Pardon typos.

Many thanks for the read and reviews on Chapter 10.

More to come…keep on reading, readers! Please review if you'd be so kind.

XO,

Feisty