Death is Black and White

The first place I go is the emergency ward, because I can't let myself leave without seeing Samantha first. And, you know, apologizing. My stomach is doing all sorts of flips and tricks as the lady at the desk directs me down the hall to Recovery, room 12. I remember I stayed in room 15 when I came here.

Room 12, Recovery is very standard-- a small room with pale blue walls and a dinky tv in the corner. Samantha's bed takes up most of the room and squished against the wall next to it is a little futon-looking sofa. It looks just like the room I stayed in for the first three days I spent in the hospital, while they pumped blood back into my system. On the bright side, Samantha's not hooked up to any monitors, and, just like Lissi said, only has a cast on her leg and a bangaged up wrist.

I stand awkwardly in the open doorway and knock on the doorframe. Samantha looks up from the television, and a wave of fear spreads over me. This is a mistake. The voice in my head, which has quieted down since I got the news of my leaving, chides at me.

She still hasn't forgiven you. She'll never forgive you, it says. But to my relief, Samantha smiles and waves me inside.

I let out a long breath I didn't know was holding and sit down on the couch.

"Hi, Lydia," she says. She still sounds the same; a sweet, knowing voice like honey. Yet I feel like I'm looking at a stranger.

"Hi," I reply smally. "How are you?"

She shrugs, awfully cheerily for someone who recently fell out a second-story window. "I'm not dead. That's thanks to Yuki, though. You know, she used to be a martial artist. She has amazing reflexes."

I shake my head, pretending to look surprised by this tidbit of information about her savior. I don't want to be the one to tell her about Yuki's arrest. "I'm really sorry about getting you mixed up in this," I blurt out. "I didn't mean for Lotty to hurt anyone else. I was so stupid."

Lame, I know. But facing the person whose life is kind of in your hands is terrifying.

"It's not your fault," Samantha says, picking up the remote and flipping through channels. It's not fair that she's comforting me at this point. She should be furious with me for getting her hurt. I almost know how Yuki must feel, how she hurt her best friend but didn't have to pay for it.

"Yes it is," I argue. "I could have stopped you, made you leave the hospital until I was out of here. I was so dumb, and now you're hurt."

She rolls her eyes and sets the remote down, settling for a cooking show. "Hurt, not dead, Lydia," she points out. "I get that you feel guilty, but honestly, nothing you could have said or done would have made me want to leave. This place is my life now; it's all I have."

"But she wanted to kill you!" I protest.

She waves her hand dismissively. "I'm not afraid of death," she states. "And, no offense, I kind of thought you'd made the whole thing up. You know, working in a hospital like this, you get used to people talking shit. I guess I should have believed you."

Okay, that stings a little. But I take it, because it's what I deserve. "But didn't you see Lotty?" I ask.

"I suppose so," Samantha replies. "It's weird, though, because the more I thought about her, the harder it was to remember if I'd just imagined it all. I was on my way to report the drawings on the wall so they could clean it all up, but I got distracted."

"By what?"

She blushes. "Yuki's hair," she says timidly. I laugh.

"She did have nice hair," I agree.

"Oh my god, did she ever!" Samantha exclaims. "It's a hairdresser's dream! Long, soft, and thick. Do you know how much potential hair like that has? It must have taken her years to grow it that long. I was surprised when I asked her about it, because she practically begged me to cut it all off."

I've never met a person with so much passion. Her story is heartbreaking, giving up your entire life for a new one at a mental hospital. "I'm going to miss you so much, Samantha," I say, smiling.

She raises her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving today," I tell her excitedly. "I finally get to go home!"

"No way!" Samantha practically screeches.

"Yep," I say. "My dad's coming to pick me up at 12:30."

"12:30?" She repeats. "But that's in like ten minutes."

"Shit," I mutter. "I should go then. I have to get my stuff packed up and meet him in the lobby."

I get up from the couch and give her an awkward hug, trying not to touch her cast or bump her wrist. "Thank you, Samantha," I say before I walk out the door.

"For what?" she asks.

"I guess for being my friend. You were pretty much the only one here who I liked."

She smiles thoughtfully. "Bye, hon," she says sweetly. Like honey. "By the way, your hair looks great."

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I lug my two bags into the lobby and wait by the desk, unable to keep the nervous smile off my face the entire time I'm standing there waiting. My dad pulls up in his relatively new Trailblazer and I put my bags in the trunk. I wait in the passenger's seat while he goes in to sign some papers and play with the radio station, settling on a Nirvana song. A couple of minutes later, my dad gets in the car and we leave the parking lot.

We leave behind the gray brick building. The twins, Lissi and Natalie. Their army of bitches. The lounge. The powder pink walls covered in drawings of a demon. An emergency ward, nursing a broken angel. We leave it all behind.

Neither of us talks for the first fifteen minutes, we just listen to the radio as stale awkwardness hangs in the air. The snow has melted, but the sky is the color of milk and the air is bitter cold. The heat in the car is blasted and I concentrate on the yellow markings of the road disappearing underneath the car. It's a habit I have.

"I'm sorry," my dad finally speaks up.

I don't know what to say. I'm not prepared to tell him it's okay, it wasn't his fault, we'll get through this. As much as I want things to get better, I'm not that desperate. "How's Miranda's apartment?" I ask, the question comes out sounding much more bitter than I wanted it to. Oh well.

Dad signs. "It's cramped, cheap, and now filled with her crap that I had to lug upstairs."

I nod. "You don't sound too happy about that," I say.

"I'm not," Dad replies. "I didn't want any of this. I wanted you out of that place the minute we dropped you off. But you're mother was scared. Whether it was that she was scared of you or just bitter because of the things you said to her, I don't know. But after the two weeks was up, I was going to come get you. Then Miranda called me with the 'great news' that she and Bryan found this apartment. So I had to help her move in, and your mother booked you for another week."

He doesn't take his eyes off the road, but I can hear the irritation in his voice. A few minutes pass and I ask, "So where does that leave me?"

He sighs. "Well, as of now, you have to go home. The court says you still have to live with your mother, same schedule as before. That's where we're going now."

I want to scream. I want to open the car door and jump out. Anything but go back to Charlotte with my mother.

Before I can protest, Dad says, "Please try to forgive her. Your mom is having a hard time dealing with this, and it won't do either of you any good to argue."

I roll my eyes. "She's having a hard time dealing with what?" I snap. "The fact that her daughter is crazy? Or that she cuts herself? She doesn't care what I have to say. She just wants her 'perfect' daughter back. She's too scared to deal with a kid who supposedly sees ghosts so she ships her off to live in some hospital for a month! What mother does that?"

"Exactly," he says calmly. "This is tearing her apart. She doesn't know what to do with you, so she sends you off. I'm mad at her, too, Lyd. But I honestly think she's sorry for everything."

"Then why didn't she come pick me up?" I spit.

"She couldn't handle it."

"Well then what makes you think she can handle me living with her?" I argue.

"I don't think she can!" Dad says. "But the court seems to disagree. I'm sorry."

He stops the car, and I realize we're already in front of my house.

"I don't want to do this," I whisper. "Please don't make me."

"You'll be okay, Lyd," he says and unlocks the car. "You're stronger than her. Forgive her for making your life hell. It'll be hard to do, I know, but I'm begging you to try."

I give him a hug and get my bags out of the trunk, waving at him from the sidewalk as he drives away. I spin on my heel and walk up the driveway slowly, chewing on my lip. "You're stronger than her," I whisper to myself.