Five hours later we stood in the foyer of the Dalton Psychiatric House. Amanda and Jake stayed outside. I had researched visiting protocols and times, so was prepared when they asked us to hand in anything loose that was on us. A metal detector and a security search later, we were inside what looked like a visiting room. Like in jail. Not that I'd know what that looks like in real life. Just TV.
"It looks like a jail," Micky said, reading my thoughts.
"Uh-huh."
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Are you?" I retorted.
"Shit yes," she choked out.
I turned to face her. She was already crying. I covered her hand that rested on the table with both of mine. "We'll be okay, Mick—promise."
Then the doors opened and she walked in. A nurse followed but stayed in a seat next to the door. Micky gasped the same time Megan's steps faltered.
She was worse than in her picture.
"Is that her?" Micky whispered, turning her head to me.
"Yes."
"Shit."
"Mikayla," Megan greeted. Her voice came out hoarse, like she smoked two packs a day. Then she looked at me. "Bro." She tried to smile, but she couldn't.
She looked old. Her skin sagged on her face and she had blood spots all over her face. Her hair looked dead on top of her head, she had bags under her eyes and her cheeks were hollowed out from how skinny she was. She sat down in the chair opposite us and rested her arms on the metal table. I could see the bruising on her arms from where the needles would have constantly punctured skin. She sniffed once, getting my attention. She raised her eyebrows in question. I must have been staring.
"Meth?" I asked her.
"Winner winner," she croaked out. She had a twitch. The type junkies get when they need a hit.
For a second I wanted to get Micky on her feet and get her the fuck out of there. I'd seen that face on other people before. Hell, I lived with those kinds of faces—but Micky—I don't know that she'd be able to deal.
"Megan," Micky whispered.
Megan's eyes went from me to Micky, and it was instant. Whatever emotion she was trying to hide disappeared the moment her eyes locked on her best friend. Her body slumped and a sob took over. "You're not supposed to see me like this," she said through a cry.
"Megan," Micky sighed. She reached her hand over and tried to hold Megan's, but she pulled it away, coming to a stand. The nurse stood too.
"No!" Megan yelled. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to see me like this and you're definitely not allowed to fucking pity me!" She started pacing. I saw the nurse pull out her walkie-talkie.
"No!" Megan yelled again. "Micky, what the fuck? Why are you here?"
"Because I need to forgive you," Micky said quietly.
"Forgive me?" Megan spat out. "No, Mick, you don't need to do that. You can't do that. You—and your family—you were all I had—and look what I fucking did!"
"Megan," she repeated again, tears streaming down her face. "You may have been a shit friend but you don't deserve what's happened to you. Nobody deserves that."
"So that's it?" Megan stopped pacing and faced us. "You came because you felt sorry for me? You can't do that Micky. You can't pity me. You just can't. I won't let you." She shook her head back and forth, her eyes wild. "I won't fucking let you Micky." She started walking backwards until she hit the corner of the room. "I won't fucking let you." Then her body slid down the wall until she was sitting in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. "I won't fucking let you." She kept repeating the words over and over. "I won't fucking let you."
Micky stood, but I pulled on her arm. "It's okay," she said.
I looked at the nurse, who nodded once in confirmation.
Then she walked over to Megan and kneeled in front of her. She placed her hand on Megan's shoulder and whispered loudly in her hear, "Megkayla brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like..."
Megan looked up then, "it's better than yours."
Then they both said, "Damn right, it's better than yours."
They both laughed. Through tears of anger, sadness, despair, pity, and sorrow, they laughed.
"Oh Micky," Megan said, leaning closer to her.
"Shh," Micky comforted her, and then turned to me. "Give us a minute?"
I looked at the nurse again. "I'm here the entire time," she assured me.
Amanda
"Did you have a pet Kangaroo?" I asked Jake. We were sitting on a bench just outside the building. We didn't know how long they'd be so we walked to get a coffee and some food.
He turned to face me with a slight scowl on his face. "You're shitting me right?"
I shrugged. I was. But Micky told me once that he hated getting stupid questions about Australia and his accent. "I'll take that as a no."
A few moments later, I asked, "How big is Australia? Is it the same size as Texas?"
Jake shook his head slowly, eyeing me like I was stupid.
I tried to contain my laugh.
"It's like the same size as America," he said slowly.
"Oh," I pretended to sound surprised. Then, "Did you guys have bowling?"
"Bowling?" he repeated.
"Yeah, like ten pin bowling."
"Oh my God," he laughed out, "It's not all red dirt country, of course there's fucking ten pin bowling."
"Oh," I said again, "Do they let you bring your pet Kangaroos bowling?"
He looked at me like I was crazy.
Then I threw my head back in laughter.
"Oh, you're fucking with me!" He finally got it, and laughed with me.
Then Logan's voice boomed from the doorway. "Hey asshole, you better not be hitting on my girl."
"Where's Kayla?" Jake asked, all humor left his voice.
"She's in there—it's fine," Logan raised his hand, "she's safe."
"What are you doing out here?" I came to a stand and moved in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He did the same. "They just need a minute." His face came close to mine, rubbing his nose along jaw. He laid his forehead on my shoulder. I saw Jake watch us, and then he walked away, giving us some privacy.
"How is she?" I asked him.
He blew out a long slow breath. "Bad. But I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Okay."
"You know what I want to do, though?"
"What's that?"
He rubbed his nose against mine, and then kissed me long, and slow. I hadn't even realized that he was holding me up by the time he pulled away. "I just want to appreciate you. Everything about you. All of it."
"It looks like a jail," Micky said, reading my thoughts.
"Uh-huh."
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"Are you?" I retorted.
"Shit yes," she choked out.
I turned to face her. She was already crying. I covered her hand that rested on the table with both of mine. "We'll be okay, Mick—promise."
Then the doors opened and she walked in. A nurse followed but stayed in a seat next to the door. Micky gasped the same time Megan's steps faltered.
She was worse than in her picture.
"Is that her?" Micky whispered, turning her head to me.
"Yes."
"Shit."
"Mikayla," Megan greeted. Her voice came out hoarse, like she smoked two packs a day. Then she looked at me. "Bro." She tried to smile, but she couldn't.
She looked old. Her skin sagged on her face and she had blood spots all over her face. Her hair looked dead on top of her head, she had bags under her eyes and her cheeks were hollowed out from how skinny she was. She sat down in the chair opposite us and rested her arms on the metal table. I could see the bruising on her arms from where the needles would have constantly punctured skin. She sniffed once, getting my attention. She raised her eyebrows in question. I must have been staring.
"Meth?" I asked her.
"Winner winner," she croaked out. She had a twitch. The type junkies get when they need a hit.
For a second I wanted to get Micky on her feet and get her the fuck out of there. I'd seen that face on other people before. Hell, I lived with those kinds of faces—but Micky—I don't know that she'd be able to deal.
"Megan," Micky whispered.
Megan's eyes went from me to Micky, and it was instant. Whatever emotion she was trying to hide disappeared the moment her eyes locked on her best friend. Her body slumped and a sob took over. "You're not supposed to see me like this," she said through a cry.
"Megan," Micky sighed. She reached her hand over and tried to hold Megan's, but she pulled it away, coming to a stand. The nurse stood too.
"No!" Megan yelled. "You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to see me like this and you're definitely not allowed to fucking pity me!" She started pacing. I saw the nurse pull out her walkie-talkie.
"No!" Megan yelled again. "Micky, what the fuck? Why are you here?"
"Because I need to forgive you," Micky said quietly.
"Forgive me?" Megan spat out. "No, Mick, you don't need to do that. You can't do that. You—and your family—you were all I had—and look what I fucking did!"
"Megan," she repeated again, tears streaming down her face. "You may have been a shit friend but you don't deserve what's happened to you. Nobody deserves that."
"So that's it?" Megan stopped pacing and faced us. "You came because you felt sorry for me? You can't do that Micky. You can't pity me. You just can't. I won't let you." She shook her head back and forth, her eyes wild. "I won't fucking let you Micky." She started walking backwards until she hit the corner of the room. "I won't fucking let you." Then her body slid down the wall until she was sitting in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. "I won't fucking let you." She kept repeating the words over and over. "I won't fucking let you."
Micky stood, but I pulled on her arm. "It's okay," she said.
I looked at the nurse, who nodded once in confirmation.
Then she walked over to Megan and kneeled in front of her. She placed her hand on Megan's shoulder and whispered loudly in her hear, "Megkayla brings all the boys to the yard, and they're like..."
Megan looked up then, "it's better than yours."
Then they both said, "Damn right, it's better than yours."
They both laughed. Through tears of anger, sadness, despair, pity, and sorrow, they laughed.
"Oh Micky," Megan said, leaning closer to her.
"Shh," Micky comforted her, and then turned to me. "Give us a minute?"
I looked at the nurse again. "I'm here the entire time," she assured me.
Amanda
"Did you have a pet Kangaroo?" I asked Jake. We were sitting on a bench just outside the building. We didn't know how long they'd be so we walked to get a coffee and some food.
He turned to face me with a slight scowl on his face. "You're shitting me right?"
I shrugged. I was. But Micky told me once that he hated getting stupid questions about Australia and his accent. "I'll take that as a no."
A few moments later, I asked, "How big is Australia? Is it the same size as Texas?"
Jake shook his head slowly, eyeing me like I was stupid.
I tried to contain my laugh.
"It's like the same size as America," he said slowly.
"Oh," I pretended to sound surprised. Then, "Did you guys have bowling?"
"Bowling?" he repeated.
"Yeah, like ten pin bowling."
"Oh my God," he laughed out, "It's not all red dirt country, of course there's fucking ten pin bowling."
"Oh," I said again, "Do they let you bring your pet Kangaroos bowling?"
He looked at me like I was crazy.
Then I threw my head back in laughter.
"Oh, you're fucking with me!" He finally got it, and laughed with me.
Then Logan's voice boomed from the doorway. "Hey asshole, you better not be hitting on my girl."
"Where's Kayla?" Jake asked, all humor left his voice.
"She's in there—it's fine," Logan raised his hand, "she's safe."
"What are you doing out here?" I came to a stand and moved in front of him, wrapping my arms around his waist.
He did the same. "They just need a minute." His face came close to mine, rubbing his nose along jaw. He laid his forehead on my shoulder. I saw Jake watch us, and then he walked away, giving us some privacy.
"How is she?" I asked him.
He blew out a long slow breath. "Bad. But I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Okay."
"You know what I want to do, though?"
"What's that?"
He rubbed his nose against mine, and then kissed me long, and slow. I hadn't even realized that he was holding me up by the time he pulled away. "I just want to appreciate you. Everything about you. All of it."
