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I decided to intervene. “You guys, stop. He’s not that bad. I met him,” I said. “In the hallway. And you know, he looked pretty non-threatening to me. So yeah.”
Yes, I was lying but it was okay. It was for a good cause.
My lies are always for a greater purpose.
Renn threw me a suspicious look but whatever. At least I got everyone to calm down. For about two seconds, and then, the questions started.
Where did you see him? The nurses said he hadn’t arrived yet.
How’d he look?
What do you mean non-threatening? What’d he look like exactly?
How old is he?
The last one came from Renn.
I answered them the best I could: I met him when he was just arriving, five minutes before this meeting, and maybe that’s why no one knows he’s here yet. He looked pretty okay. Short and bald and yes, old.
Although I didn’t get a lot of time to embellish my lies, which I’m very good at by the way, because the therapist handling the group got us to shut up, with the help of a few techs.
All in all, this day sucks.
Now, I’m clutching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban to my chest as I make my way toward the rec room at the end of the hall. Two nurses are standing in the corner, talking to each other, along with a couple of patients from my floor loitering about.
I pass by Beth’s office. Usually, all staff offices are located in the area that’s not freely accessible to the patients. But Beth told me when I first got here that she considers Heartstone a family and she wants to be available to everyone without having to jump through the hoops of appointments and whatnot.
Through her half-open door, I hear her talking to someone. But more importantly, I hear the same name I overheard a few hours earlier at breakfast.
Simon.
My feet come to a halt.
My eyes go wide.
“How’s he doing?” Beth asks to someone in her office. Someone who she called Simon a second ago. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in to see him this week. You know, with everything.”
There comes a rustling and that someone clears his throat. “He’s exactly the same as he was last week.”
Oh my God, is that Simon?
Is he here? Is he actually in there?
A long sigh. Then Beth says, “He likes to be difficult. I’ll give you that.”
“Well, he always liked you,” he says.
Simon says. No, Dr. Blackwood. Dr. Blackwood says. For some reason, I don’t want to be on a first-name basis with him. Even in my head.
Anyway, so Dr. Blackwood says. Or rather rumbles.
In a voice that’s deep and rough.
“And who can blame him.” Beth chuckles.
There’s a puff of air followed by a low grunt. I don’t think it should’ve made it out of the room for me to hear, but it did. That low, scratchy sound. Somehow, I know that it’s his laugh, rusty and unpracticed.
I swallow as my heart pounds more than it was already pounding.
There’s a prolonged silence. Seconds and minutes of silence. Or maybe it only feels like that to me. Because I’m frozen, unable to move. Then I remember that I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, trying to eavesdrop on a conversation. Twice in one day.
But how can I resist? He’s the new doctor, my new enemy. I have to listen.
I whirl on my feet and face the wall. I can’t be eavesdropping when there are people around. Or rather, I can’t make it obvious, so I try to make it look like I’m studying the collages on the wall.
It’s the photographs of the patients, hospital staff, previous doctors, therapists with their names written on colorful strips.
“I’ve said this before, but I’m glad you’re back. So glad, Simon. And I can’t tell you how excited I am that you’re here, at Heartstone. This is your place. You belong here.” Beth sounds nostalgic and so full of emotion.
“You’ve said this before, yes,” Dr. Blackwood says wryly.
She chuckles. “I think you should tell him. You know, about everything that happened.”
“No,” he clips.
“I keep saying it but… it’s okay. Whatever happened.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, Simon,” Beth insists. “I practically brought you up. I can see it.”
“It’s over.”
“I think, if not him then you should talk to them. I think you should explain and maybe they will –”
“No.”
Beth goes silent. I don’t blame her. Even I jerked when I heard it – no, clutching the book to my chest and rubbing my arms. It’s the way he said it. So shortly and loudly. So final.
“It’s over, Beth,” he says in a much calmer voice. “There’s nothing to explain. Let it go.”
What the hell are they talking about?
Whatever it is though, it has to be something extremely serious. I can say that much.
I wonder –
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder and I squeak, my thoughts disintegrating and my book falling to the floor with a thwack.
