White Rabbit

Part Eight

Even now, my shoulders twitch every now and then. I'm in the day room, leaning against the cold window, as some kind of athletic game show plays on TV. Carrie sits at the table behind me, scribbling something while Millie reads a magazine. May is still slow and her eyes are still drooping. She must be on something really heavy. Laura sits silently, as always, just watching TV. Some of the other patients are, too, some play cards, some read. Most are in their rooms, like Helena usually is.

"Diana!"

I jump at Carrie's shrill voice and turn toward her as she plops down in the seat next to me.

"Wha...?" I can't quite get the whole word out. I've mostly adjusted to the Lithium, but sometimes time doesn't act right and things around me move a little too fast, or maybe I'm moving too slow.

"I colored you a picture!" she grins. She looks around and drops her voice. "To thank you for coming with me earlier. Even though you didn't say anything, I noticed." She holds up a sheet of paper with a meticulously colored robin on it. The crayon strokes all go in the same direction, everything is in the lines. The wings and stomach are even shaded.

"You made that for me?" I ask softly. I take the paper in my shaking hands, looking at all the perfect, bright colors.

"Well, it was Helena's idea," she says.

I look up, eyes wide. "Really?"

"Well, sort of. When I gave her the bracelet, she said I should make something for you, too. Millie said a drawing but I can't draw, so I colored this for you instead."

I look back up at Carrie. Her smile weakens. I look back down at the picture, and suddenly it's a little blurry.

"Are you okay?" Carrie whispers. "You're crying."

I wipe at my eyes with my knuckles.

"No, I'm not," I mumble weakly. I take in a shuddery breath and when I let it out, my eyes start to clear again. "I'm fine."

***

Millie and Carrie sit across from me at dinner again. They don't talk to me much at first, but with the way I was earlier, I don't blame them. Finally, I look up at Carrie and say,

"You still offering those cookies?"

Carrie grins her watery grin. She nods. "They're in my dresser. Remind me after dinner. I saved them in case you changed your mind."

My eyes widen and I lean back a little.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Make sure you hide them," she says. "If the techs find them you'll get in trouble and they'll make you throw them away."

"Okay," I say.

***

There are no groups after dinner. There's no wrap-up group like there was in the place where I stayed in high school. There are a lot fewer groups in general, probably from lack of funding.

About 6:30, one of the patients whose name I don't know calls me from the phone down the hall.

"Phone call for Diana?"

My head jerks up from my book and I run, nearly slipping in my socks on the slick laminate floor. The patient is gone, the phone balanced precariously on top of its box. I pick up, hands still shaking. They never stopped.

"Hello?"

"Diana!" It's Nina. "Thank God I got through this time."

"What do you mean?"

"I woke up a little late this morning and slept through the time you told me to call, so when I did, they told me it wasn't phone hours and you couldn't talk," she says.