I like to tell different stories about where I was for a month at the beginning of this year. I make up crazy stories about what if was like there and really freak people out. Sometimes Marcella gets in on the joke.
* * *
“My mother had to have me kidnapped from this cult and have me deprogrammed . Yeah, it could happen to anyone. It’s called Stockholm syndrome or something like that.”
That was a pretty good one.
“I was at this place where they dropped you off in the woods, like a hundred miles from civilization. All we had was our tents, and some food, a rope, and an axe. It’s, like, about survival. Oh yeah…there were bears. Tons of them.”
That one was okay. But Marcella and I had our favorite.
“No, no. It’s true. She really was at that famous rehab place, the one where all the movie stars go. Really. I saw the pictures,” Marcella says. “She was in the room right next to that twin. You know which one. Yeah, the skinny one, the one with brown hair.”
* * *
But when we are alone, Marcella asks me to tell her everything.
We are lying on the matching beanbag chairs in Marcella’s room. I can hear her brother’s video game coming through from the room next door.
Marcella bangs on the wall. “Turn it down,” she shouts. It is all very familiar and comforting.
“So?” Marcella asks.
“Nothing. It’s dumb stuff. Boring,” I say.
“But I want to know,” she says.
What can I tell her? What do I really know? Karen has written to me twice since I didn’t go back to Mountain Laurel. John is no longer writing a week ahead in his journal, although he does focus primarily on what he will be having for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He talks about me a lot, Karen wrote me. So do all the boys. Billy misses me, she wrote. And they’ve gotten two new boarding students at Mountain Laurel. Two girls. They are both terrified of Gretchen. I had to smile when I read that.
And Drew?
Drew is doing better. He is in a different school now where they can keep a closer watch on him, where he can get the help he needs. I’m not so sure about that. But Karen told me he’s drawing a lot. Apparently Drew is extremely talented, a true prodigy. Someone from 60 Minutes wants to do a show on him.
That makes me smile too.
“C’mon, tell me,” Marcella is asking me.
But it’s hard to explain. It’s a little embarrassing. Mostly confusing. I have Drew’s picture. It’s folded up again, just the way he stuffed it into his pocket. I don’t think I’ll ever show anyone. But it’s there. And sometimes I take it out and just look at it.
Try to figure out who it is.
So I say, “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, it does,” Marcella answers, and I know she is right.
It’s all crazy.
And there will always be things I can’t erase.
But I think the best I can do
is defy the craziness for as long as I can.
And live.
And be happy.
Peace.
Nora Raleigh Baskin, In the Company of Crazies
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