Part 5

[arualms]

She finally loses it when, the next morning, Marissa is smiling at her as if nothing happened, as if she hadn’t been sitting right next to her during the phone call, as if she hadn’t told Summer to make the call, hadn’t insisted that they need time for just the two of them, no boyfriend- distractions allowed.

 

She is sitting there, smiling and when Summer halts at the sight, her only response is a suggestion to go shopping later.

 

It’s too much all of a sudden, too much after a night spent crying over the realization that she actually broke up with Cohen, ended it when they had finally, finally gotten their act together, all because of someone who isn’t actually there.

 

She is crazy; she is hallucinating all the time; she hasn’t had an honest conversation with her dad ever since the first nightmare and it’s just too much when Marissa is acting as if nothing happened.

 

She doesn’t even realize she is crying and yelling at the same time, not until suddenly her dad is there, asking who she is talking to, what is wrong, who is she talking to?

 

A part of her thinks that it figures. Of course the first time she actually talks to Marissa, demands an explanation for everything, why, why, why?, her father has to come in and hear it.

 

She can’t look at him, hides her face against his chest as she breaks down, suddenly no longer able to hold it back, the truth spurting out of her between hiccups, tears and shuddering intakes of breath. Once she starts talking, it’s as if the floodgates have been opened and she can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t ask any questions, just lets her talk. Only when she is done confessing all her lies, tearing apart the carefully constructed reasoning she had for keeping it secret, all her weaknesses open for him to see, does he say something again.

 

“You are not crazy.”

 

Her helpless laugh and the choked crying mix into a weird sound she can’t define. Now he’s the one who’s lying.

 

“Summer, I promise, I will do anything to help you get better.”

 

After that, she doesn’t remember much. An emergency meeting with a shrink (she thinks it might be Julie’s but doesn’t have the strength to ask), pills in various shapes and colors, a drawn out conversation about the best place for her to go, falling asleep in a haze of sleeping pills taken under her father’s watchful eyes..

 

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“Hey, Summer. How…Are you alright?”

 

“I really don’t know.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Nothing. It’s not really something that happened. I just, I was thinking and I realized that it’s been four weeks.”

 

“Since you last saw Marissa?”

 

“Yes. And that’s like, supposed to be a good thing, right? I’m supposed to be happy that I am getting better, right?”

 

“You’re not, and now you are mad at yourself for not reacting in a rational manner? Summer, I know I am repeating myself, but you need to stop having the expectations of yourself. I know letting go of what you think is the right way for things to work is hard, but until you manage to allow yourself to be weak every now and then, please listen to me. Feeling conflicted is absolutely normal, especially in a situation as complicated as this one.”

 

“But why hasn’t it changed yet? I mean, I told you weeks ago that I was afraid of her disappearing, we talked about it for hours, we spent forever discussing how I didn’t want to let her go. And I know that I have to, that no illusion is going to give me my best friend back. Why isn’t knowing that enough?”

 

“Because it hurts? Summer, real or not, Marissa was with you for several weeks after the accident. You spend time with her, she talked to you. Letting go of that means losing her for real. I am not surprised that a huge part of you doesn’t want to do that. She was your best friend.”

 

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She goes to see the therapist every day, waiting for a bed to be free at what is supposedly the best clinic in San Diego. She doesn’t want to go there, not really, because how is taking away the last bit of familiarity she has supposed to make anything better. Those people won’t be able to change the fact that she is crazy. Nothing the shrink says convinces her otherwise. After all, the fact that she needs a shrink pretty much proves her point, doesn’t it? At least she already gets some practice talking to him. The place they want to send her to believes in intensive therapy. She doesn’t even want to think about having to talk to some stranger four hours a day.

 

The shiny drugs her shrink prescribes for her actually do have an effect. The problem is that she still doesn’t really want Marissa to leave, so not seeing her as often anymore leaves her feeling helpless, not better.

 

(don’t think about how much worse it is going to be when she is actually gone)

 

But then suddenly there is a free bed and before she knows it, a woman with a polite smile is showing her around the clinic

 

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“Good morning, Summer.”

 

“Morning, Doc.”

 

“All packed?”

 

“Yes, everything - just waiting for my ride.”

 

“Good. I like what you did with your nails.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Couldn’t decide on one color?”

 

“I was tired of hot pink. I thought I’d try out all the others. Figure out what else suits me.”

 

“Experimenting in healthy way. Always a good thing. So, I guess this is it.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“How do you feel about leaving the clinic?”

 

“I’m not sure. I mean, I’m looking forward to seeing my dad again, but…”

 

“You’re afraid?”

 

“Yes. What if it gets worse again? What if my subconscious decides I need a new imaginary friend?”

 

“You know, being able to joke about it is a really good sign.”

 

“Yeah. But really, what if it does get worse? I know I’m going to be taking the meds for a while, but the dosage is going to be lowered, right? I don’t know, I guess part of me doesn’t want to leave until I feel like I am really okay again.”

 

“What would it take for you to feel okay?”

 

“I don’t really know. Not suddenly bursting into tears all the time would be a good start.”

 

“Summer, grieving Marissa’s death is going to take a lot of time. And it is always going to hurt. If we wait for that pain to go away, you are never going to get out of here.”

 

“I know. But I still want the pain to stop.”

 

“That is completely understandable. And as long as you don’t tell yourself that you are supposed to be better, stressing yourself with useless expectations again, it is absolutely okay to feel that way. And regarding your other doubts: you have arranged to see a therapist twice a week. He or she will keep a close eye on the right dosage of the medication. And you can use that time to talk about everything that is on your mind. If you are in pain, you can talk about it. If you realize you are going back to blaming yourself, if you notice yourself avoiding people or places again, you can talk about it. That’s what we all get paid for.”

 

“I know. I guess it’s just that I feel safe here. I’m afraid of giving that up. And please, don’t tell me how great it is that I can admit I am afraid. I really don’t want to hear it again.”

 

“Okay, I won’t. I suggest you try to concentrate on the positive aspects of going back. You are looking forward to sleeping in your own room again, aren’t you?”

 

“Hell yes. And you have no idea how much I have missed my closet. I’ll finally have an acceptable amount of clothing and shoes again.”

 

“See, that’s something. Is your father coming to pick you up?”

 

“Yes. Cohen wanted to come to, but I told him I’d see him when I’m back again.”

 

“Something else you’re looking forward to?”

 

“I…yes. I missed him. Talking to him every other night was nice. I don’t think I can be in a relationship yet, but it’s nice to know he’s waiting for me.”

 

“Did he say that?”

 

“He doesn’t have to. He’s never going to find someone better than me!”

 

“I am glad to see your confidence has returned.”

 

“Yeah…Hey Doc?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thanks for, you know, everything.”

 

“You’re welcome.”