Chapter Thirty-Two: Life in One Day
Manny lay on her hospital bed, staring at the scars on her arm. There was a tiny bruise forming underneath her left wrist. It wasn't self-inflicted; the previous night she had woken up to Valerie shoving a finger down her throat. Manny tried to stop her. Valerie fought back. It was their little secret.
Unfortunately, Manny's bruises were much more evident than Valerie's vomiting, and she knew when Mr. Boyd noticed, he'd turn her in. It was protocol. This world was strictly black and white, and Manny knew it could cost her dearly.
This place is so fucked, Manny thought angrily. She was going to be punished, she knew it! For helping another patient, for promising to keep a secret, she was going to be sentenced to live forever in this whitewashed world. She knew it. It was just like Jahnava told her. It's easy to be committed. It's damn near impossible to get out.
Manny wished Jahnava would sneak into her room. She wished Emma would magically appear. She wished Theresa would find a way to walk through walls. She wanted someone to rescue her so badly she could taste the freedom already.
It will never happen, she decided. She hadn't heard from Emma the entire time she'd been there. Even Emma, eventually, gave up on Manny.
She felt a cry of frustrated rage slide up her throat, but she clamped her teeth down. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction. In here, they expected you to be crazy. But playing the role of crazy-chic was no way to get out. Manny was learning that.
"I feel like a pizza," Valerie said, interrupting Manny's thoughts. "Stuffed crust, smothered in cheese and pepperoni. Mmm."
"You'd just throw it up, anyway," Manny grumbled in reply.
Valerie smiled. "I suppose that's the point."
"Val," Manny said, turning on her side to face the frail girl, "I don't get you. You're sick. You know you're sick. But you also made yourself this way. You want to be sick on two fronts. Why?"
Valerie stared at Manny, startled. "This ain't group, hon."
"You always wanted to talk when it was about me," Manny reminded her. "Why don't you take your own advice? Talk to me. Please, talk to me."
Valerie paused. "Because I don't want to. If you'll excuse me," she said flippantly, pushing herself off of her bed, "I'm hungry."
Manny watched her exit their co-habitat. "I stand corrected," she mumbled sarcastically. "Hypocrite."
Without intention, Manny found herself looking down on some of her peers. Some of their so-called problems were just so ridiculous, so easily fixed! She said a silent prayer daily for Jahnava, though. Without her, Manny felt she'd have been driven even crazier.
She brewed in her own self-pity, enjoying the view. Manny thought of how weak she was, how fragile. Almost like Valerie.
Manny stopped playing with the fresh bruise on her wrist. She just lay there as if frozen in time.
"Weak," she whispered, realizing the truth in her words. "I'm just…weak."
Manny sat up, her mind racing.
Her whole life had been one giant game of finding someone more dominant than she to control her. She hadn't been finding friends, she found keepers. People who wouldn't mind if her will was lacking, because they'd be strong enough to carry two.
It's not about friendship, Manny thought. It's about control.
When she was in kindergarten, she had latched onto the only kid who stood up to the bully. The next year, she went straight for the bully. Friendship after friendship was some pathetic self-destructive cry for help. Emma was strong, but it wasn't in the way Manny had always looked for. Emma was a mistake, an accidental friendship.
It isn't about them. It's about me.
"Me," she whispered, trying to roll the word around in her mouth to get a taste for it, a feel for its honesty.
"I have to know myself before I know others," she said. "Me. I have to get to know me first."
She felt her lips twist into an involuntary smile. She finally understood! The root of her problems wasn't Theresa, or Emma, or Paige, or her sexual orientation. It was that she never looked into a mirror and liked the girl looking back at her.
And in her moment of clarity, Manny knew she'd have to tell the group tonight. Even if the euphoria didn't last, she had to let everyone else know. She understood, if only for a moment.
"Mrs. Santos?" Emma asked into the receiver. Her longing for Manny had long before turned into desperation. She had been calling the Santos home daily, if not to visit Manny, but as if she called enough Manny would answer the phone, and everything that had happened would be void.
"Hello, Emma," Amada replied. She sounded tired.
"I'm sorry…am I wasting your time again?" she tried to sound light. She knew her voice betrayed her nervous energy.
"They say she's making progress. If she keeps at it, we can see her this Saturday."
Emma was stunned into silence. Minutes that felt like decades passed.
"Emma?" Mr. Santos finally asked, jolting her out of the overwhelming surprise her best friend's mother just hit her with.
"I'm sorry, but did you say Saturday? Um, I was wondering…I mean, if it's okay…uh…"
"You're welcome to come, Emma. I couldn't well let you stay behind, not with how concerned you obviously are."
"Oh, thank you! Thank you! I'll see you Saturday, Mrs. Santos!"
"Goodbye, Emma."
"Good—" Amada had hung up. Emma didn't care. As uncomfortable as the Santos' made her, she would spend eternity with them if it meant at the end she'd see Manny, finally.
Emma squealed. It turned into laughter. And at the bottom was an icy patch of pure terror at what was to come.