Page 96 of Her Ex-Husband's Brother

The same look she gave me at fifteen when I cried too loudly. At nineteen when I tried to tell a doctor the medication made me feel like I was crawling out of my own body. At twenty-one when she told everyone I was confused and took my phone from my hand.

“I’ve been so worried,” she says.

There’s a social worker sitting at the table. A nurse beside her. Both watching me carefully.

My mother turns toward them with wet eyes.

“This isn’t him. You have to understand. He’s never like this when he’s stable.”

“You can’t take me.”

The social worker straightens. “August, your mother has offered to provide transportation and a safe place for you to stay once the doctor determines you’re ready for discharge.”

“No.”

“No one is discharging you today,” the nurse says quickly. “We wanted to discuss options.”

“I told them you can come home with me,” Mom says. “Just until you’re feeling more like yourself.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Her face blurs again.

The medication drags her features sideways, then snaps them back.

She looks almost pleased.

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

“You’ve been very sick.”

“You helped Jake.”

The social worker glances at her.

Mom lowers her voice, gentle and mortified. “Jake called me because he was frightened. Everyone was frightened.”

“You lied.”

“August—”

“You always lie to put me back in a cage.”

Marcus says my name behind me.

I can’t look away from her.

She moves closer.

I smell her perfume. White flowers and powder. The same smell that filled the car when she drove me to the hospital the first time and promised we were only going to talk to someone.

My lungs lock.

“No.”

“I’m trying to help you.”