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When they were called, Brooks, Greta, and Ella all paraded into the back room to speak with Aurora’s doctor. None of them had known Aurora longer than two weeks, yet none of them could go back to a time when they hadn’t known her name.
“Initial conclusions point toward schizophrenia,” the doctor explained kindly. “Like her mother before her, she was diagnosed at thirty-five. She’s beaten up about it, of course, but when we explained the treatment plan, she pepped up a little bit. When she asked what it would cost, we informed her that The Copperfield House residency would be taking over all expenses. Is that true?”
“Absolutely,” Greta affirmed. “She’s in our care.”
The doctor leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. “You can’t know how much that means to me. I see so many patients who need help but can’t afford it. I never know what to say to them. What to do. I feel that they’re victims of a broken system.”
Greta, Ella, and Brooks nodded solemnly.
“At any rate, we asked Aurora where home was to ensure that we sent her to a facility nearby. When she told us home was here, we called Nantucket Sound Psychiatry Clinic, which is a short drive from the Hyannis Port, and they have an opening starting today.”
Ella and Greta exchanged glances.
“Is she scared?” Ella asked.
“I imagine so,” the doctor said. “But she’s a trooper.”
“Can we see her?” Ella asked, her voice cracking.
“I want to keep visitors to a limit right now,” the doctor said. “Brooks, here, forced his way into the hospital all night, so there’s no use holding him back. But I don’t want to confuse Aurora more than she already is. She’s had a very difficult road. And we need to give her brain time to heal.”
ChapterNineteen
It was difficult to convince Brooks to leave the Nantucket Sound Psychiatry facility. His big, puppy eyes were so sorrowful, and when he wrapped his arms around Aurora just before she checked in, his legs shivered, as though he was about to collapse. Aurora could empathize. After all, she’d been on the other side of checking someone into a facility like this several times over the years. Although she’d hoped and prayed it would never be her, here she was.
“I’ll come to visit you as soon as I can,” Brooks said, sniffling as he stepped back, his hand still around hers. “You’re going to get through this.”
Aurora’s throat was too thick with sorrow to talk, so she nodded, closed her eyes, and then followed one of the nurses down a long, white hallway. Fear grew in her chest, especially when she glanced through the doors on either side of the hall, in which she saw other patients in the facility— all of whom had lost their minds in one way or another, just like her. She felt compassion for them. She just wasn’t sure how to feel compassion for herself. She should have been stronger than this.
After an initial physical examination, Aurora was led to her new room, which she shared with a woman in her late forties named Debbie. “She hasn’t spoken in a few years,” the nurse said kindly, as though she spoke about the weather or Debbie’s new hat. “But she’s a very kind person. Always lends a helping hand in craft class. Don’t you, Debbie?”
Debbie made eye contact with Aurora and seemed to nod slightly in greeting, although Aurora could have imagined it.
Aurora changed into the required uniform at the facility, a white t-shirt and a pair of cream-colored lounge pants. Although there wasn’t a mirror in her bedroom nor in the bathroom down the hall, she had a hunch she looked frightening, her hair stringy and her face without makeup. A nurse came to tell her that she would be meeting with the in-house psychiatrist in an hour, which only exacerbated Aurora’s fear. She spent all that time on her bed, itching to play her guitar, to put her emotions into something that had nothing to do with her very sick mind. But the doctors had told her she couldn’t bring her guitar. “You can sing, of course,” one had said, although Aurora knew better than to just sit around a mental institution, singing. She wanted to get out of there quickly, not deepen her problems.
The psychiatrist was named Dr. Fred Winston, and he had little round glasses and a mound of a belly beneath a blue sweater, which he wore despite the season. He greeted her with a kind smile and leaned forward, looking at Aurora intently, in the way Aurora remembered doctors looking at her mother back in the old days, as though they could see through her skin and into her damaged mind.
“Aurora, welcome to the Nantucket Sound Psychiatry Facility,” he said, his voice soft and even. “I understand you’ve been having a difficult couple of weeks. Can you talk more about that?”
Aurora didn’t want to trust him, not completely. But she did want to get better if only to return to Nantucket and see Brooks’ wonderful face again.
“It’s been a difficult few months, actually,” Aurora said, her voice breaking. It was best to start at the root of it all, wasn’t it? “My mother died this past spring. She took her own life. And I was the one who found her.”
Dr. Winston leaned back in his chair. “I am very sorry for your loss, Aurora. That must have been horrible.”
“It was. She was the only person in my life for so long,” Aurora said. “I loved her so completely. Maybe too much. I spent most of my childhood and adult life trying to protect her, both from the world and from herself. And in the end—” Aurora’s voice broke, and her eyes filled with tears. “I failed.”
Dr. Winston reached for a box of tissues, which he placed before her. He was probably used to patients sobbing in his office.
Aurora did her best to fill in more of the gaps, if only to give Dr. Winston a better idea of her particular brand of messy. She told him that her mother had been diagnosed when she’d been thirty-five, the age Aurora now was. She told him of Delilah’s endless belief that everyone was out to get her, to take what was hers, and to wrong her. And that, especially since Aurora got to The Copperfield House, similar thoughts had plagued her.
“It’s so strange. It’s like I’m watching my brain poison itself, and I can’t do anything about it,” Aurora added. “Ironically, my acceptance to The Copperfield House residency was the best thing to ever happen to me. It was supposed to be my first big step forward from my past.” Aurora laughed gently. “Maybe that sounds stupid. The real question is, what was my plan for afterward? It’s not like I have any money or anywhere to go. I just figured I’d make it to The Copperfield House, and then I’d see what happened next. I guess ‘next’ is this psychiatry facility.”
“You can’t be hard on yourself,” Dr. Winston urged her. “You’ve been through tremendous trauma. Your body has been in a period of decades-long stress. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. It’s just a blessing that it happened when people were watching out for you.”
Aurora’s lower lip quivered, giving her heart away. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay them.”
“It’s not about repaying them,” Dr. Winston said. “The only thing you need to focus on is getting well again. And I’m going to help you.”
