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I sat back in my seat, upset and troubled. There was so much I didn’t understand, so much that still hurt me.
Why are you so very angry with me, Kyland? How could you go from loving me to hating me so fiercely?
“What was that intense stare-fest?” Marlo asked from beside me.
“I have no idea,” I answered distractedly. “No idea at all.”
A couple hours later, when we pulled up in front of the hospital, I turned the car off and just sat staring out the front window. “Wow,” I finally said.
The large brick building was old but beautifully maintained. It was surrounded by lush lawns and landscaped to perfection. Patients strolled, some with nurses and some without, and others sat on benches that were placed on the edges of flower beds. The expanse of green lawn was shaded by ancient buckeye trees.
“I know,” Marlo said. “It’s a really nice place. And they have the best doctors too—doctors who have made helping people with mental illness their life’s work. They don’t only rotate through one drug cocktail after another, seeing how long they can get one to help before moving on to another,” she said with a sigh. Boy, did we know about that. “They focus on the whole of the patient: body, mind, and spirit too,” she finished.
“How does Sam afford this?” I asked as I got out of the car. It looked like a resort.
“He has savings. I’ve never asked him how much this is setting him back.” She glanced at me as we started walking. “I was going to tell him to stop, but then I saw Mama after just a couple weeks here, and I just couldn’t do that to her.”
I grabbed Marlo’s hand and squeezed it.
A few minutes later, we had signed in with the nurse at the front desk and were sitting in the large waiting room.
When our mama walked around the corner, I almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair was cut to her shoulders and had obviously been washed and styled, and her expression was bright and excited, but not in that glassy-eyed way I was familiar with. She was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved cream sweater. She stopped, putting her hands up over her mouth, as I stood, incredulous.
“Tenleigh, my baby,” she breathed as she came toward me.
“Mama,” I said, my voice hitching. “You look incredible.”
She squeezed me to her and I breathed in her clean, comforting scent. “Oh, Mama,” I said as I pulled away. I ran my hand over her hair and just drank her in. She laughed softly and then looked over to Marlo and grinned.
“My other baby,” she said hugging Marlo. “Should we walk?” she asked, gesturing out the window.
We all went outside and started strolling on a sunlit path. A light breeze blew and the scent of freshly mowed grass wafted in the air. Marlo led us toward a bench under a tree, and Mama and I sat down.
“I’m gonna go get us some bottled waters. Do you want anything else?” Marlo asked.
We both said no and she left us where we were sitting. I knew she was giving us some time alone together.
I took my mama’s hands and squeezed them. “How are you?” I asked.
“I’m so good, baby. I have my good and bad days, but I think everyone does. I’m learning a new normal. I’m learning how to understand my own emotions and how to deal with them.”
“That’s good, Mama. That’s better than good.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, it is better than good. The doctors here tried me on a few medications, and the ones they have me on now seem to be the best for me. But what’s really helping more than anything is that I’m in several therapy groups too. There are other people here who understand exactly what it’s like to have a condition like mine. I think it was the missing piece.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “They understand the guilt of hurting everyone around you, even though it’s the last thing you want to do.”
I squeezed her hands again and then wiped a tear running down her cheek with my thumb. “You don’t have to feel guilty. Not with me, not with Marlo,” I said.
She nodded, but her expression was sad. “I do, though. You needed a mama, and all your lives, you and Marlo had to mother me. And I embarrassed you so badly…” Another tear ran down her cheek.
“I know you didn’t mean to, Mama. I know that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
She took a deep breath and looked up at me. “I have a mental illness, Ten. And that, well, that’s not going to change. But there are ways I can cope, things I can do, triggers I can avoid. I know that now. And I feel stronger. For the first time in my whole life, I feel like I have control over the monsters in my head. For the first time in my life, I have hope.”
