KISTISHI ISLAND

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning before school, Serena dragged her feet into the waiting room of the psychiatrist’s office and waited for her aunt to register at the front desk.  A sign on the wall read: “Places I’ve Been.”  The doctor kept postcards from his vacations underneath, including Guam, Aruba, and Kistishi Island. 

“That island sounds familiar.”  Serena pointed at the postcard for Kistishi Island.

Krieg scratched her fingernail against the wall’s white paint.  “No it doesn’t.” 

“Maybe someone at school talked about going there on vacation.”  The exotic picture depicted a desert stretching to the ocean, where a lone family played volleyball on the beach; no doubt one of those ultra-private resorts her aunt longed to visit.  Someday she would travel with her mom to far-off places and leave New York behind.  She could escape to a mountain, far from the idiots at school, somewhere she could be herself and not worry if someone was about to bully her. 

            Aunt Nikki smiled as she joined her.  “He’ll be with us soon.” 

Serena plopped into a crimson chair and sank into its cushion.  Aunt Nikki sat on the couch, and Krieg leaned against the wall behind her. 

            “Smells rotten.”  Krieg pinched her nose.  The strap of her white stola slid down her shoulder.

“I assume it’s that.”  Serena pointed at the porcelain bowl of potpourri by the basket of magazines.  The overpowering, sweet scent wafted through the room.

“What are you talking about?”  Aunt Nikki smoothed her skirt. 

Krieg blew on Aunt Nikki’s neck, bared by a tight ponytail.  When Aunt Nikki turned to look, she only frowned into empty space.  “Odd.  I thought I felt something.”

Serena smiled at Krieg.  As a child, she’d loved her invisible friends, but as she grew older, she realized they shouldn’t exist – and they definitely shouldn’t be able to touch things, yet they did, and had become a hindrance.  Life without them, though, seemed empty, even if it meant no more visits to see doctors.

Serena picked up a CosmoGirl magazine and flipped through the glossy pictures.  Her aunt didn’t allow her to read teen magazines at home, because they involved “adult” issues like STDs and boyfriends, so she loved looking through them in waiting rooms.  A strand of blue-streaked hair fell over Serena’s eyes.  She chuckled, recalling how long her aunt had screamed when she dyed her hair.  Krieg walked over to tuck the curl behind Serena’s ear.

“You’re just as pretty as those girls,” Krieg said. 

Serena chewed her bottom lip.  Her aunt bought her designer clothes like those in the photographs, but she longed to wear something of her mom’s, like a worn-out nightshirt or a pair of faded jeans, something she could cherish; if only her mom actually had more belongings than what fit in the two suitcases she took everywhere.  She left Serena behind, with only a Chap Stick kiss to remember her by.  Serena rubbed her cheek as if she could feel the sticky imprint, but her fingertips found smooth skin.  Maybe if she’d been around more, I wouldn’t have developed imaginary friends. 

The mahogany door at the end of the room opened and a man stepped out.  He had to be at least six-foot-six, with short black hair, gray dress pants, and no suit jacket.  When Serena stood, so did her aunt.  Krieg snorted and remained seated.  Serena clasped her hands behind her back to hide their trembling.  Maybe this new doctor would be more understanding, less furtive on how to “fix” her, someone to offer solace.