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A watery smile tilted her lips. “I’ll tell her.”
Then she closed the door.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and called the private detective I’d hired. “She’s leaving now. Follow her, please. Find out where she’s going. Don’t let her get away from you.”
The box of letters I’d set on the coffee table beckoned me forward. I stared down at it. Lifting the lid, the scent of Lynn’s perfume wafted out at me and I stopped to breathe it in. The box could hold nothing of importance, or it could hold everything. There was only one way to find out.
32
Dear Diary,
Today I met a boy. His mother is a doctor at the hospital where I’ve been getting therapy. Dr. Peterson is amazing, and so is her husband. Today, Dr. Peterson, the Mrs, asked me if I wanted to go to her son’s birthday party. Her son is turning sixteen, same age as me. She assured me that it would be all right, that nothing could go wrong because both she and her husband would be with me the whole time.
Dr. Peterson, the Mrs, assured me that her son would be fine with me being there. That he wouldn’t mind having a crazy person at his party. Those are my words, not hers. She prefers to call me “traumatized.” But I prefer crazy, because it’s how I feel most of the time.
I think the party was a way to test my sanity, to see if I could fit into real-world situations. She used her son as an excuse to expose me to real people and real situations.
Anyway, it was supposed to be a small party, and it was. He was there alone with his girlfriend when the three of us arrived late. They left me to find the table on my own. There I was in a sea of people I didn’t know, but I did it. Somehow I knew when I saw him sitting there with another girl about our age that he was the birthday boy. I walked across the room, introduced myself. I met Mason’s—that’s his name, Mason—I met Mason’s girlfriend, Aubrey. She was nice, but I got the feeling she didn’t like me very much. I don’t know why.
Mason and I talked the whole time. He’s funny and charming and smart, and if I were a different person, I’d love to get to know him better. But I’m not a different person. I’m me. And I’m them. And as long as I’m them too, I can’t be anything more to anyone else. I’m not willing to give them up. I need them too much.
But for the first time ever, I feel like I might need more, too.
33
I could still remember, vividly, the day that I learned the truth about Lynn. That first day at my birthday party, Mom told me Lynn was a volunteer at the hospital, but that was only part of the truth. She was also a patient.
I went to Mom’s office to ask for Lynn’s phone number, since I couldn’t find Lynn anywhere at the hospital.
I knocked gently on the doorframe of Mom’s office, jerking her out of the file she was reading. “Mason,” she said with a smile. “What brings you here?”
“Can’t a guy just drop by to see his mom once in a while?” I sat down across from her.
“Did you wreck your car?”
I smiled. “No.”
“Fail algebra?”
I shook my head.
She tilted her head to the left and looked at me. “Mason,” she said. She didn’t say more than that. Just my name.
“I was actually hoping I could see Lynn.” Heat crept up my face and I hated it.
Mom’s head tilted a little to the right. “Lynn?”
“Yes. I wanted to see if she might want to go get an ice cream with me or something.”
Her brow furrowed. “That’s really sweet, but Lynn can’t leave the hospital.”
“Why not?” I didn’t understand at all.
“Mason,” Mom said, “why do you want to spend time with Lynn?”
I shrugged. “She was really nice.” And pretty. And she made my heart do calisthenics in my chest. “I’m old enough to date, Mom.”
This time, it wasn’t just her brow that furrowed. Worry lines defined all the edges of her face. “No, Mason.”
