Late Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder. It's just simply that the powers that be are letting me borrow them, torture them with angst, make them happy and healthy again, and give them back, all nice and well.
Disclaimer: I don't own, nor did I write the song "The Cat's in the Cradle". That was the work of Sandy and Harry Chapin. Nor do I own any of the other songs that are listed here. Those are the work of Harry Chapin.
Um, that's all for now!
~~*~~
It's great to be free, even for a day. School here at the Vista is year long, and I rarely get a break, even during the scheduled respites, because of therapy: all types of therapy. Group, individual, drug, eating disorder, self-injury... a lot of therapy. It wears me out, and that's why it's great to be free.
Mark is letting me and Mom come over for a picnic. That's great, because I love the ocean, and basically, the ocean is the back yard.
I have gained weight, though. At least I can go back to the gym. There's nothing like exercise in how it can make me feel so good. For every 5 pounds I gain, that's another 5 minutes I can stay. If I start losing weight, then I'll be cut down, until I'm restricted all the way.
I can't help but pinch the fat and groan. Beverly just smiles when she catches me doing that. She has a pretty smile. It brightens my day.
I can't wait to see Jesse. I haven't really talked to him much, but I have been busy. But I think a couple of times; he's been busy, too. He doesn't sound happy. I'll have to talk to him when I go over to Mark's and Steve's.
~~*~~
July 4th is here! Not only is it the national Independence Day, in a way it's mine. I don't have to stay within the confines of the hospi, um, residential treatment center. It's not a hospital, and I'm not a patient.
Mom is waiting outside in the car. I'm so glad it's air conditioned, because it's a bit humid today.
I sit back and close my eyes, enjoying being in a car. I'll never take it for granted again.
"Hey, sunshine," Mom says. I snarl my nose at the nic-name, but I have to remember that she didn't say "Meggie".
"Hey, Mom."
"I love you," she says, looking over at me. She has aged over the past month or so. If I had seen her everyday, I wouldn't have noticed, but since I have seen her sparsely, I can tell a difference. Don't get me wrong; she is still very, very pretty. She's just aged with stress.
I smile. It's genuine. "I love you, too." She reaches for my hand, and I hold her hand as I lay back down, and settle down to sleep.
~~*~~
"Meg! Ramona! Everyone is out back," Mark said, as he greeted us with a hug.
Mom went ahead around, and I hung back, to talk to Mark.
"Hey Mark. How's it going?" I asked.
"Pretty good. How about with you?"
"I'm doing better. I'm feeling," I said.
Mark wrinkled his brow in confusion "Feeling better?" he said, trying to clarify the statement.
"No. I'm feeling. That's a strange sensation, but it's a good one," I explained.
"Oh! Well, that's very good," he said, squeezing my hand. "Let's go around," he said.
"Ok!"
We walked around. The first sight of Jesse, and I could see a difference. His face was drawn in, and he looked terrible. Just so run down and drained of life. I about gasped but before I could react, I was almost smothered by him.
"Meg! I'm so happy to see you!" he said, as he became a boa constrictor.
"Jess... can't... breath..." I said, joking. "It's great to see you, too," I said, as he loosened his hold.
"You look great.
Not as sick."
"Well, you look terrible!" I said.
"What's wrong?"
"I'll, um, uh, will tell you, um, later," he said, as he wrung his hands together.
"Ok, later. But you better tell me," I said, giving him another hug. "So, did Steve cook?"
~~*~~
I ate a sort of normal meal. I've been a vegetarian for a while, and Steve had stuff from BBQ Bob's. Potato salad, cole slaw, and bread is actually enough for me. Even though I have been used to eating for some time, if I eat too much, I'll get sick to my stomach, and that's not pleasant.
A little bit after eating, I went to search for Jesse. I found him on a log that was on the main beach, out a couple hundred feet from the house.
He looked up, and I saw tracks of dried tears where they coursed down his face.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I-i don't know," he said. "You know that I attempted suicide when I was your age. I feel like everything is coming back again. All of the fear, the anger, th-the sadness. All that I tried to hold in and block off is coming to the surface. I feel like I'm losing it, and I don't know if it can be found. I don't know what I'm losing, but I feel like whatever I'm losing it important."
"Jesse, you more than most people because you're a doctor, know that when someone gets a boil, it looks pretty inconspicuous, just a swollen bump that's warm. But what's inside is harmful to everything else. It has the potential to poison everything around it, or even kill the person. The only solution? To lance it. It's painful, it's messy, but it's healing. And yes, you do get scars from it, but they are good scars; reminders of what one has been through. You've got to lance this boil in you."
"Wow. You're pretty wise for a 16 year old," Jesse remarked, his voice breaking.
"It's all the therapy. They make us robots to spout out things like this and make unsuspecting people feel better," I joked. Jesse smiled.
"You're safe with me. You can cry, if you want to," I say softly. "You can also laugh, scream, curse at the top of your... well, that might not be a good idea. You could get arrested," I said. Jesse laughed. Tears sprung to his eyes, and as the first one leaked out, he began to sob. He laid his head down on my shoulder and held on for dear life.
After the first few times of doing this with Beverly, I've gotten good for what to say.
~~*~~
The sun is going down its course of the sky. By my rusty skills at telling time by the sun, it's 3:00. I look at my watch to confirm. 2:00. I'm close, but still no cigar. Or actually just a chocolate cigar will do.
Jesse looks a bit more peaceful. Maybe since he was afraid of disappointing me with the news that he wasn't eating, and that he was injuring himself. I was calm, and I could tell that was a let down for him.
Maybe that's how I felt when I was in the hospital, just waking up from the overdose, and he's sitting there, not screaming at me, but talking calmly. I couldn't block him out like I usually do at people screaming at me.
The fear in his eyes before he tells me is tangible, like I can almost reach out and grab it in a big handful and squish it around.
"Meg, I've not been eating," he said, after he got done crying.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I really don't know. I think it's because I still feel guilty for what I did when I was 16."
"You don't feel worthy enough to eat?"
"Maybe. I've, um, also been hitting my arms. Leaving bruises," he said, looking down at a conch shell that was at his feet.
"Jess, look at me," I said. He tilts his head up, but they are still focused on the ground. "Jess, look at me." He does. "I'm not mad at you. I think you were expecting me to go off on a rampage, weren't you?"
"Actually, yes. I thought you'd also be disappointed," he said, at that moment, sounding like a small child.
"Jess, I could never be disappointed in you. You're a doctor who saves lives. You're a caring person. You're my friend!" I said. He broke out in a mega-watt grin. It felt genuine. I let out with my own grin.
~~*~~
It was later on. I was sitting with Mom on the patio, enjoying the view and the ice-cold water in my hand. Mark and Amanda were above me, talking about something in hushed tones, and Jesse and Steve were out in the sand, playing tackle football. Steve was letting Jesse off with some easy "touchdowns". Finally Jesse got mad at Steve for letting him win, and he said he could win on his own steam.
"All right, little boy. You want full strength. You got it," Steve said, in a jocular tone. "24, 45, 68, Manning, 23. HIKE!" Steve said as he threw it a Jesse. When Jesse got the ball, Steve tackled him. Without warning, he began to tickle him earnestly. Jesse's laughter resonated everywhere, and soon, as Amanda and Mark bolted off the deck quickly, and went to terrorize Jess. I couldn't help but smile.
Jesse was happy, even for a moment.
~~*~~
It's time to leave, and I don't want to go back to the Vista. I have had a lot of fun today, with, after convincing my Mom to join in, a football game. Steve and I won. Yes, I'm loyal to Jesse, but I'm more loyal to winning. Just kidding. Also, Steve found out about my Harry Chapin, um, obsession. It's not my fault that he wrote such awesome songs.
The radio was on outside, and I heard the first familiar bars of the song, and I gasped. "Harry Chapin!"
Steve looked at me. "You know who Harry Chapin is?"
"Who wouldn't? I mean he was the greatest songwriter ever. At least, in my, *ahem* humble opinion," I said.
"What's your favorite song?"
"Probably Pigeon Run. It was actually in his Broadway play, What Made America Famous? so not many people even know about it. I also like W.O.L.D and, of course 30,000 Pounds of Bananas. And Six-stringed Orchestra. "
Steve looked impressed. "Not even Dad listens to Harry much. I'm impressed."
"Thank you," I said, with a silly grin.
We began to sing. "...My son turned 10 just the other day. He said, "Thanks for the ball, Dad. Come on, let's play. Can you teach me to throw?" I said, "Not today, I got a lot to do." He said, "That's OK." But he walked away, and his smile, let me tell you, said I'm going to be like him, yeah. You know I'm going to be like him..."
Mom pulls up to the entrance of Vista, and I let out an audible groan. "Do I have to?" I whined.
"Yes, you do," Mom said, catching on to my game.
"All right. I'll go." I said, smiling.
"I love you, Meggie. I'll see you on Wednesday!" she said as she shooed me out of the car.
I entered into the front reception area, and was met by Mr. Williams, one of the college counselors.
"Hello, Ms. Rhyan. Did you enjoy your visit?" he asked as he escorted me back to the patient rooms.
"Very much so, Mr. Williams. I got to see Jesse!" I exclaimed.
"That's the doctor, right?"
"Yes. He, and his supervisor, Mark,
his supervisor's son, Steve, and Amanda, his friend, had a barbeque. Jess and Steve own a BBQ restaurant, so they
had food from there. Of course, all I
could eat was potato salad and cole slaw," I said.
"Did you eat a good portion?"
"Yes. I had about 3 ounces of cole slaw and about 1 ounce of potato salad."
"That's still sort of small, but it's about with what you're eating now. You're progressing nicely," he said.
I smiled.
"Well, here we are, Ms. Rhyan," said as he came to my room.
"See you, Mr. Williams," I said as I entered the room.
"Meg!" Bev said as she came to hug me.
"Bev!" I said at the same time.
"How was your visit?" she asked, looking at me
expectantly.
"It was great. I got to spend time
around the beach. I saw Jesse. And Mom and I aren't fighting!"
"That's great. I wish I could go, but I visited home a couple of weeks ago," she said, a bit wistfully.
"I wish you could go, too. Maybe next time we're up for visiting home, we can make sure we're going home on the same day," I said.
"Maybe. That'd be cool," she said. We spent the next 15 minutes catching up, before I looked at my watch.
"We have group in 10 minutes," I said, scowling.
"Ew!" she said.
"Ah, let's go and be good little recovering anorexics," I said.
She sniggered at my remark.
We went to be good little patients with Mr. Scotch.
~~*~~
