I've never been to New Britain, but I drive up there on Friday. New Britain is an hour and a half from Stoneybrook. It's where Charlie Thomas goes to college and where Kristy hopes to go next fall. And it's where Lindsey's at in a private psychiatric hospital. I decided yesterday while Kristy was demonstrating how to use the washing machine that I wanted to visit Lindsey. Kristy saw her last week and said it wasn't weird or awkward or anything. She said Lindsey isn't in a padded cell or doped out of her mind or strapped to a bed. She said that Lindsey seemed like Lindsey, the Lindsey we usually know. They talked about normal things like school and Christmas and the SDS softball team. Kristy made it sound so effortless. And for Kristy, it probably was.
I called Mister Dr. Dupree last night and he promised to telephone the hospital to have me put on the visitor's list. He sounded delighted that I wanted to visit Lindsey, which only gave me a guilty twisting in my stomach since I had forgotten her for so long. I haven't even written. I've dropped out of her life, off the face of the earth as far as Lindsey's concerned. I am a bad friend. I'm trying to be better.
Oak Hills Psychiatric Hospital sits on the edge of New Britain. I roll through the gates at eleven-thirty, stopping at the guard post for my parking pass. I pause a moment there before continuing on, tilting my head to gaze out at Oak Hills. It looks a lot like the psychiatric hospitals I've seen in movies - a massive estate with steep front steps leading to a sprawling porch. The lawn rolls long in front of the building, wrapping around the back. In December, Oak Hills is gloomy and gray like the rest of Connecticut, but I imagine that in the spring, it's a much more welcoming place.
Inside, I check in at the desk. The receptionist consults the day's visitors list for my name, marks me off, and hands me a badge to clip onto my sweater. Then she points me to the elevator with directions on how to reach the visitors lounge. There's a nervous fluttering in my stomach as I stand in the elevator with an orderly and a middle-aged man who's sucking his thumb. I wonder if Kristy was wrong, or if she glossed over the truth. I'm uncertain as to what to expect.
I wait for Lindsey in a corner of the lounge, seated on a white wicker chair with a lumpy blue and yellow polka dot cushion. The lounge is filled with patients and their visitors. I can tell the two apart because the patients mill around in their pajamas. Some of them look completely normal and some look...well, not. I sit very straight in the wicker chair, hands resting on its arms, trying not to stare. I bite my lip and watch the door.
Lindsey appears a couple minutes later. She looks like Lindsey, more or less. The usual Lindsey, the Lindsey I've grown up with. She's wearing pajamas like all the other patients - white, pale yellow, and lilac striped cotton pajamas underneath a dark purple robe. Her blonde hair's pushed back with a white braided headband. It's still shocking to see it so short, bluntly cut above her chin.
I stand as she nears. "Hi, Lindsey," I greet her a bit unsurely. Am I supposed to hug her? Am I supposed to smile?
"Hi, Shannon," she replies and gives me a small smile. "Thanks for coming. It's a nice surprise." Lindsey sits down in the wicker chair opposite mine.
I take my seat again. I try not to sit so stiffly. "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to come," I apologize.
"It's okay. Kristy said you've been having a rough time lately. That guy, I guess."
"Something like that," I say, softly. I pause a moment and fidget with my sweater. It's the sweater Tiffany gave me for Christmas, the daring, low-cut one. I put it on over a black tank top and now realize I look like I've shown up for Halloween two months late. "Have you had many visitors?" I ask Lindsey.
Lindsey shrugs. "Now that Stoneybrook U. is out for winter break George and Sadie come about every other day. Sometimes, they come two or three days in a row. Kristy came last Saturday, of course. And some of my relatives from Hartford have visited. Not many people know I'm here though. I'm glad for that. I don't want anyone knowing...thinking I'm crazy." Lindsey pauses and plays with the belt on her robe. "I guess everyone thinks I have mono. I've received a lot of cards. George and Sadie bring them when they visit. A lot of people have written notes and letters. Greer sent a seven page letter all about the Christmas pageant. I'm sorry I missed it. And then, I've heard from Abby, of course, and Amanda Kerner and the softball team, most of the yearbook club, too. Sally White even sent a card. It was pretty weird. Not just getting a card from her, but what she wrote. She's strange. And I heard from Meg. She's sent several cards, actually. I guess she wants to be friends again. I don't know if that can happen."
"I saw her the other day. She's still dating that boy."
"I figured."
"So, how is it here? Do you like it?" I immediately regret my word choice. Of course she doesn't like it. My face flushes with warmth.
Lindsey just shrugs again. "It's okay. I mean, it's better than I expected. Most of the staff is really nice and I like my new doctors. I've only seen Dr. Petrinski once since she brought me in. She came by last week before leaving on vacation. She isn't so awful, I guess. Some of the other patients are kind of creepy. My roommate's a compulsive liar. That's annoying." Lindsey stops for a breath and looks down at her hands, resting on her thighs. "I'm sorry that I've missed everything though. I missed everything that's happened at school and the Christmas pageant. I missed Hanukkah and Christmas. And I'm really upset that I missed the Winter Ball at Stoneybrook High. I had such a pretty dress and now I'll never wear it. Kristy told me that Ross went to the ball with another girl. I guess she asked him after he dumped me. Some girl named Lauren."
My jaw drops. "Does she have blonde hair?" I demand.
"How am I supposed to know?"
I close my mouth and blush again. Right. How would she know? And it doesn't matter.
"I wouldn't worry too much about Ross Brown," I tell Lindsey. "He's a nice enough guy, but he's kind of a flake. I mean, back in eighth grade, he went from liking Abby to Anna pretty easily. Then he liked me and switched to you in just one night. I don't think he knows what he wants."
"Maybe," Lindsey says. "It doesn't matter though. He really wasn't my serious boyfriend or anything. Sadie says I need to stop worrying so much about boys anyway. Maybe she's right. It's too bad, though, because Ross' friend Paul is sort of cute."
"And so charming," I reply.
Lindsey smiles. It's tiny, but it's there, tugging upward at the corners of her lips. She sighs and turns her head to stare out the window. She doesn't speak for a while. She simply stares.
"You know the worst part about being in here?" she finally asks. She's still looking out the window at the dismal gray day.
"No. What?"
"Being in here means that I'm never going to get better," she answers. "Not really. I mean, if I take my medication correctly and work hard, I can control it, but I'm never going to be completely well. I'll always be sick. I'll always be crazy. Just maybe not apparently so. I can still relapse. I can relapse for the rest of my life at any time. That's scary. The disorder is pretty severe for me. I'm worse off than other people. I knew that before, but...I could pretend it wasn't so. And now I'm here. It's very real now. And I think about the rest of my life and it seems so bleak. What if I spend my entire life coming in and out of Oak Hills? Bipolar disorder is a disability and some people are never able to function in regular society. That could be me. It's really scary."
I watch her, not knowing what to say. She may be right. I don't know. I don't know anything about what's wrong with her. If I were a true friend, I would know.
After a few seconds slip by, I say, "You know what? Maybe you don't have to worry." Lindsey looks over at me. "Why not?"
"Well...remember the last month or so of school and how I was always forgetting to finish my homework?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, that was because I was so wrapped up in Wes. I was so focused on him and our relationship, and then later, on the end of our relationship and being angry that I never had time for my assignments. I didn't care. But you, Lindsey, gosh, you were overmedicating yourself and having manic episodes and you still did all your homework. Not only that, you did all your work for the yearbook. You did my work and your own. I mean, you were spiraling out of control and you still got a ninety-nine on your Jane Grey paper."
"That's true," Lindsey replies, slowly. "But Sadie helped me with that paper."
"Did she write it for you?"
"Of course not. She helped me with the research and the outline, then she proofread each draft. I did all the writing myself."
"See?"
"I guess," Lindsey says. She doesn't look convinced. She pulls on a lock of hair and rubs the ends between her fingers. Certainly, she misses her hair, her beautiful, flowing hair. It'll take years to grow so long again. I wonder if she'll break herself of her habit finally, her habit of chewing her hair, or if it will come back the moment the strands reach her mouth again.
"How is your grandmother?" I ask.
"You mean since I stabbed her with the kitchen scissors?" Lindsey replies. It isn't a joke. She says it quite seriously. "She's fine. I mean, fine considering that I stabbed her. She isn't mad, you know. I thought she would be."
"Of course she isn't mad. She knows you're sick."
"Sometimes I feel like such a burden," Lindsey says, dully. "George and Sadie, they went through all this with my mother and now they have to go through it with me. They have been going through it with me, for years. It's so unfair to them. I bet they wish I wasn't around, that they didn't have to deal with me. They're strapped down because of me. And because of my mother." Lindsey drops the lock of hair and turns her eyes on me. "Can I tell you something, Shannon?" she asks. "Will you promise not to tell anyone?"
"I promise," I reply and I am sure I know what she's about to say. The truth. After all these years, Lindsey is about to admit the truth I've known for so long.
"My parents didn't die in a trainwreck," Lindsey tells me. "I made that up. I didn't want people to know the truth. They left me. They went to the store for a carton of milk and never came back. They just left me behind with George and Sadie." Lindsey sighs, a strange sigh, a sigh of relief, of finally being unburdened. The truth can be releasing. "My mother was sick, too, like me. George and Sadie don't talk about it much. They never talk about her. It's like she never existed, almost. She was very sick though and they sent her away to an institution. I guess institutions weren't very nice back then, not like here. When they were going to send her away a second time, she ran away. They looked for her a long time. Then one day, she came back and she had me and my dad. And then they left again. They never came back."
Lindsey spreads her fingers out on her knee, spreads them out and stares at them. She doesn't look at me. "I don't think they looked for her again. They didn't want her to come back. Once, I guess I was about five and we were still living in Hartford, I overheard George and Sadie fighting. I wasn't sick yet, so I know I really heard it. Sadie said, 'I hope Charmaine never comes back.' I don't remember what George said back to her. All I remember is, 'I hope Charmaine never comes back.' It plays over and over in my head sometimes. What if that's me someday? They could erase me like they erased my mother. I could go away and they may hope I never come back." Lindsey bites her bottom lip. She bites it so it disappears and all I see are the ends of her top front teeth.
We are silent awhile. I let time drift away in my hesitation. I have to think. I have to treat Lindsey delicately, like something precious and breakable. Right now, that is exactly what Lindsey is. Something occurs to me.
"You know what?" I ask and sit up straighter. "Maybe you took what she said the wrong way. Maybe it's not so much that she didn't want your mom to come back. Maybe it's that your grandmother was afraid your mom would show up and try to take you away. Your grandparents had been raising you all that time. You're kind of like their daughter. We don't know all what happened between them and your mother. It couldn't have been easy for them. You were like a second chance."
Lindsey's eyes light up ever so slightly. "Oh...maybe," she says. "I never thought of it like that." Her eyes dim and she frowns. "I wasn't much of a second chance. I turned out just like my mother."
"You can't help that you're sick," I remind her. "And you aren't just like your mother. You're still here, aren't you? You didn't run away. You're getting help."
Lindsey shrugs. She starts twisting the belt of her robe around her hand, just like she used to do with her braid.
I watch her a moment. She's very sad to look at, sick and scared and doubting. "You're lucky, in a way, you know," I tell her and she glances up at me in surprise. "I mean, not because you're sick. You're lucky because your grandparents really love you. I mean, you stabbed your grandmother and she's not even upset about it. She doesn't blame you. Instead, she visits you almost every day. That's a nearly three hour drive each day and both your grandparents make it. And they do all these things for you. It's not just that they bought you a car or gave you a credit card or buy you nice clothes. My parents do that, too, but it's not out of love. It's more than that for you. Your grandmother helps you with your homework and your grandfather remembers to pick up your favorite magazines when he's at the grocery store. I know they're really strict and that they make you sit through about five hours of religious services each weekend, but it's not like they do it to be mean. They really love you. You're lucky, Lindsey."
Lindsey sits back in the chair, resting her blonde head against the tall white wicker back. She doesn't say anything. She makes her lemon face. I almost laugh. I've missed it. I never thought I would.
"You could be right," she finally says.
I nod. For once, I think I've gotten it right.
"You could be right," Lindsey repeats, then she doesn't speak again for several seconds. She's thinking. It's apparent in her eyes. The wheels are spinning, turning, around and around in motion. "I've been thinking since I got here...well, ever since I could think clearly," Lindsey tells me. "When my mother was institutionalized, or actually right before, that's when Sadie started drinking. What if she starts drinking again? I could drive her to drink just like my mother did. She said that to me not long ago - 'You're going to drive me to drink just like Charmaine did!' Or else, I'm pretty sure she said it. Sometimes she says things like that, like when she threatened to cut off my hair. She doesn't mean those things. I frustrate her. I remind her so much of my mother and I think that scares her. I don't want her to start drinking again. Kristy promised to check up on her. Will you, too? Just while I'm in here."
"Yes. I will," I reply, nodding.
Lindsey smiles. She reaches out and takes my hand. "Thank you. You're such a good friend, Shannon."
Lindsey's likely the only person who thinks that, the only person who never stopped thinking it. If she only knew. If she only knew all the things that have occurred in her absence. Life has spiraled on while she's been here, spiraled beyond my control, and I have unraveled. Lindsey doesn't know. Perhaps, she'll never know.
Lindsey sighs again and offers a small, wary smile. She doesn't look exactly like the old Lindsey and there's a quiet sadness in her face, but somehow, at the same time, she looks almost content. Maybe those two things can co-exist, sadness and contentment. Maybe it's a sign of moving on, of getting better. I hope so.
"So...what's going on with you?" Lindsey asks me. "What happened with that guy? Kristy wouldn't tell me."
"There's nothing to tell," I lie.
Lindsey looks disappointed. "Oh..." she says. "I guess he found out?"
"He found out," I confirm. "I don't really want to talk about it though."
"Oh..." Lindsey replies. She tries to hide her increasing disappointment with another small smile. She wants the details. She wants the dirt. She wants me to confide in her like old times. Things have changed and I am spent. "Has anything else happened?" Lindsey asks. "How was your Christmas?"
"Fine. Tiffany gave me this sweater. We went over to Kristy's house for lunch and it was a lot of fun. Then we visited Mrs. Bryar, you know, our former housekeeper. She quit awhile ago. I guess you wouldn't know that. But we visited her in the afternoon, even though she's Jewish." I feel a bit proud of myself for remembering, like I feel a bit proud whenever I remember the details I am told. I am learning to listen.
"Yeah, she goes to our synagogue," Lindsey tells me.
I am slightly less proud of myself now.
"You had a nice Christmas then," Lindsey says, a tad wistfully. She doesn't ask about my parents. She knows how little they matter. They're not even part of the equation. Even to Lindsey, the Thomas-Brewers and Mrs. Bryar make more sense than a holiday with my parents. "Christmas here was okay. George and Sadie stayed most of the day. They brought me some of my presents. The others are waiting at home, things I'm not allowed in here. I really want to go home, Shannon."
"You'll be home soon," I promise. "And things will be better. Everyone misses you, Lindsey." I reach forward and set my hand on hers.
Lindsey sniffles and nods. She smiles once more, her weary smile, so different than the one I've known. And then her face changes. It lights a little and she sits up straighter. "There are George and Sadie now!" she exclaims. She actually appears excited to see them.
I turn in my chair and see the Drs. Dupree crossing the lounge toward us. Mister Dr. Dupree is holding a paper sack in his arms and beside him, Dr. Dupree smiles her lovely, friendly smile. My gaze shifts momentarily to the space between her right breast and shoulder, where Lindsey stabbed her. I wonder if she still has the stitches. I wonder if she'll have a scar, a constant reminder of what her granddaughter did to her.
"Hello, Shannon!" Dr. Dupree greets me. She stops beside my chair and lays her hand on my shoulder. She continues to smile. "Lovely to see you again. George and I are so pleased you've come to visit Lindsey."
"Yes," Mister Dr. Dupree agrees. "Thank you for coming."
"I should have come long ago," I reply, embarrassed. I should have. I should have at least written or called. I shouldn't have forgotten Lindsey, brushed her aside.
"Hello, darling," Dr. Dupree chirps to Lindsey, sweeping to her side. She leans down and kisses Lindsey's forehead. "How are you today?"
"Okay," Lindsey answers.
"We brought the pajamas you wanted," her grandfather tells her and sets the paper sack at her feet. "And the magazines you asked for." He sets his hand on the back of her head and sort of pets it.
Dr. Dupree glances over at me. "Have a happy Christmas?" she inquires.
"Yes. Fine," I lie and rise to my feet. I pick up my purse and lift it onto my shoulder. "Well...I guess I'll go now."
"You don't have to leave, Shannon," Mister Dr. Dupree insists.
"We'll let you finish with Lindsey," Dr. Dupree adds. "We'd like to speak with her doctor anyway."
"No. It's okay. I think we're done. Right, Lindsey?"
Lindsey nods. "Yes. Thank you for coming, Shannon."
"Of course," I say and bend down to hug her briefly. "Happy early New Year. I hope you're back in Stoneybrook soon."
"Me too."
I say goodbye to the Drs. Dupree and head toward the exit. I turn in the doorway and watch Lindsey and her grandparents for a moment. The Drs. Dupree are kneeling on either side of Lindsey's chair. Lindsey's speaking as her grandparents smile and nod. They all laugh.
And I feel a flicker of envy toward someone currently residing in a psychiatric hospital.
The drive home seems to take much longer. It's lonelier, too. I stop at a gas station in New Haven and fill up my tank, then I go inside and buy a small butter pecan cappuccino. I don't even like coffee, but I sip it slowly and it warms me up. I think about Lindsey a lot during the drive. I think about how, in spite of everything, she is lucky. In some ways. I think a lot about us all. All my friends and all my family, all the people who I've hurt and who've hurt me. There is a lot, piling up and flooding over, a lot that has happened in just a few months. And then, a lot that has been building up for much longer.
When I pull into my driveway, Anna Stevenson's at the front door. She's knocking just as I roar into the drive. I'm surprised to see her. She hasn't been around much, it seems, since returning from the Hamptons. We walked Astrid together yesterday, but otherwise, I've not seen her at all. I park in the garage and jump out of the car, coming down into the drive where Anna now stands. She has her hands in the pockets of her gray zip-up sweatshirt. It's much too cold for that. She should wear a real coat.
"Hi," she greets me. "I'm glad you're home now. Where have you been?"
"Running errands," I lie.
"Oh. You've been gone a long time," Anna says. She smiles. "I almost missed you. Kristy sent me over for you. Mary Anne got her license today and she's taking us for a drive. Or, well, according to Kristy, she's going to drive us up and down Burnt Hill Road at fifteen miles per hour. Then, we're taking Kristy's new Jeep downtown to celebrate at Thelma's Cafe. Kristy wants you to come. Are you ready now?"
I bite my lip. "Um...you know, I just got home..." I say, hesitantly. "Is Abby going?" I ask.
"No. She said she has something to do at Greer's house."
"Did Mary Anne say I could come?"
Anna knits her dark eyebrows together. "Gee...I don't know. Kristy just said to come get you. Mary Anne didn't exactly personally invite me either. Kristy did. Why would Mary Anne care? It's going to be me and Kristy and Mary Anne and her friend, Katie Shea. You probably don't know Katie. She's okay. Kind of bossy. I think Mary Anne's car may only seat four, but it's all right. Kristy's tiny and unless she's gained fifty or so pounds since I last saw her, so is Katie. We'll all fit."
"Um...I'm really tired, Anna. It's been a long morning. I'd like to stay home," I tell her. I know Mary Anne doesn't want me along. Abby knows it, too. "Thanks for the invitation."
Anna frowns. "Is this...is this because you're still mad at me?" she asks.
"No! I'm not mad at you. I'm just tired, that's all. Tell Kristy. She'll understand."
"Oh...okay then," Anna says with hesitation. I've disappointed her.
I'm sick of disappointing people. I'm sick of being disappointed myself. "Maybe you'll come over later though," I suggest. We have to start somewhere. "I'm all alone in the house. It would be nice to have some company this evening. You can bring Kristy. You can even bring Mary Anne if she wants to come."
Anna nods. She appears satisfied. "Okay. That sounds good. We'll stop by. Or at least I will, for sure. Take a nap or something. You do look tired, Shannon." Anna turns to start down the drive, but pauses and slowly turns back around. "Shannon?"
"Yes?"
"I meant to ask you the other day," she says and there's hesitation in her voice again. "Remember my sweater?"
I nod. "The Shetland sweater? Of course."
Anna hesitates a moment longer. "Do you think I can buy it back? I'd like my mother to see me wear it. I'll pay you back the hundred dollars, but it'll take me awhile."
"You can have it," I tell her without any pause of consideration. I love the sweater, but to me, it is only a sweater. "You don't have to pay me back. You can just have it."
"No. I'll pay you. Eventually."
I know Anna won't relent. She is stubborn like me. "Pay me half," I offer. "Fifty. I've worn it a lot."
Anna narrows her eyes, thoughtfully. "Maybe," she replies. "I'll think about it." Then she turns with a wave and heads down the drive and across the street. I watch her cross Kristy's yard until she disappears through the front door.