Silver

Chapter 78 - now

We have a new art therapy teacher named Sandi. She wears large shapeless dresses with bold geometric prints. She speaks to the clients soothingly and likes to compare their work to the great masters - Picasso and Rodin and Van Gogh.

My clients look forward to her classes every Tuesday and Thursday. They are working on 3D models. We enter the art therapy room. Bernadette's group is already there. I make my clients sit down on the row of tables on the opposite side of the room. Yvonne looks over at me and waves hello. I frown and say to Hilary 'Do you remember where your piece is?'

I help my clients find their pieces. Anita is making a dinosaur and Brenda is making a sailing boat. Jenna can't remember what she was working on, so we stand at the project table hoping she'll recall her work.

A piece catches my eye on the workbench. It's a model of a white modernist house, made out of balsa wood. In the garden, out the back of the house, there's a lawn made of green felt. On the lawn are miniature sculptures spray-painted bronze. One of the sculptures looks like a head. I bend down to look at the house properly. On the entranceway there's a tiny hand-painted sign in lilac. It says 'Sylvie's Casa Blanca'.

My heart gallops. It's him. He made it. I've found him.

'Where's the artist who made this?' I yell across the room at Sandi.

'Sit down Sylvie,' Bernadette demands.

'Where's the artist who made this?' I say again, even louder.

Sandi walks over and speaks without projecting her voice to the rest of the group. 'You made it Sylvie.'

'No I didn't,' I say. 'He made it.'

'Sylvie, sit down,' Bernadette says, rising from her chair and walking our way.

'I need to know,' I yell, backing towards the wall. 'Who made this? Where is he? Which room?'

Bernadette puts her oversized hand on my shoulder and steers me back to the opposite side of the room where my clients are. 'Calm down,' she orders. 'You'll upset everyone.'

I sit on the hard plastic chair, rocking my body forward. This is the moment. I've found him for sure. He's here. Act normal. I shouldn't have had that outburst. They'll be onto me. But I've found him. We're symbiotic. We rely on each other for survival. He's here. I knew I'd find him. I knew. 'Sylvie's Casa Blanca.' He's still thinking of me too. Our love runs so deep it could be mined for gold.

I tell myself relax. Act normal. I reach for the pair of crocodile scissors. 'Here, let me help you,' I say to Anita, who is struggling to cut some felt.

'Sylvie! Let her do her own project,' Bernadette says.

'She needs help,' I say.

Yvonne turns around and glares at me. 'You don't even work here,' she says. 'You have to stop pretending you work here. You haven't got a uniform or a badge. You're one of us.'

I stand up, the chair tips over, the clank reverberates throughout the room. I raise the crocodile scissors above my head, and point them at Yvonne. 'You want to cut?' I scream, my voice surprising me. 'I don't even remember you! You're just the girl who disappeared.'

The room is blow torched in shades of red, the space is throbbing.

Two security guys appear and wrestle the scissors out of my hand. They pin my hands together behind my back. One guy has a needle and jabs me in the arm. As I collapse to the floor, I have one thought: I've found him.