I hadn’t thought about my future. I hadn’t even considered what things would be like in an hour. Pearl was minute by minute at this moment. But I was certain of one thing. “I don’t want that missing persons wall to gain any more photos.”
She reached over, patting my shoulder. “That was the answer I wanted to hear.”
Sixty-Four
After
Pearl
Brightness.
Something I hadn’t seen in eleven years—a mind-blowing and terrifying number—that would take me a long time to get used to again.
The only colors in Ronald’s prison had been the white dress he made me wear and the cement-colored walls.
But in this hospital room, I was surrounded by so much more.
The warmth of the sun that came in through the window was yellow. The heat from Ashe’s hand red. I felt both penetrate me, even when my eyes were closed, the exhaustion taking hold, not even having an ounce of energy in me to keep them open. But when I was awake, I felt the colors too. During the moments when my eyelids would flutter open, expecting to be met with another white dress and a demanding, roaring, gray Ronald.
But that wasn’t what I saw.
I saw Ashe.
And the dream that I’d kept in my head for all of those years was now the reality playing out before me.
Safety.
Freedom.
Security.
When the panic set in again, the machines behind me singing a nasty song, Ashe would remind me that the nightmare was over. His fingers would hold me extremely tight, and I would try to calm the anxiousness in my body.
Just like I was doing now as my eyes moved from the white walls to the yellow window.
To him.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
The room smelled like coffee, and he was holding a large paper cup, the same way he had done in college.
I cleared my throat, the thickness moving down, my voice slowly returning. “I used to fantasize about different flavors, wondering if I’d have them again.” I swallowed, the back of my tongue still so permanently dry. “Coffee was one.”
He held out his cup for me to take. “Would you like some?”
“No.” I rested my arm over my stomach, my gut so bloated and full of whatever they were pumping me with. “Thank you.”
He moved his chair a little closer, and I jumped from the noise—a grinding, almost shrieking—the same sound the door would make when Ronald would come in.
“I’m sorry.” He paused midair, squeezing my fingers, the machine behind us screeching. “I’ll move it back.”
“No—” I started but cut myself off when I didn’t know how to continue. How to describe how I was feeling. How to even process what it all meant in my head. It had been so long since I’d been allowed to speak. I only knew how to keep it in. To let it eat. Scorch. Bolt in every direction. “You’re fine.”
He waited until I calmed and asked, “How are you feeling?”
“I”—I reached inside me, searching for that answer. Freedom was what I’d wanted for so long, but with it came things that terrified me, and they were as scary as being inside the prison—“don’t know.”
“That’s understandable.” He set down his coffee and pulled at the collar of his button-down. It was a light blue, the color of his eyes, more beautiful than the ones I’d seen in my head for all these years. They had the tiniest hint of aqua, a gaze more piercing and precise than I remembered. “You’ve been sleeping on and off for three days.”
“Three days?”
I cleared my throat, the burn making me cough. He handed me a light-pink plastic cup, and I looked inside at the clear waves of the water. I took a drink, swishing it around before swallowing.
It tasted … heavenly.
“I spoke to your doctor this morning, and he’s extremely pleased with how you’re responding to the meds. He wants to talk about discharge plans. There are several options for you to consider.”
“I’m going to Gran’s.” I paused to cough again. “I hoped she would come here to see me, but I know that’s probably hard for her at this point.” My eyes shut, recalling how she used to hold on when she walked, her hands so delicate that she would squeeze me with her whole arm. “That’s my plan—to go to her.”
Ashe was silent, his thumb rubbing the tops of my knuckles. “Pearl, we have to talk about Gran.”
I couldn’t miss the compassion in his tone, the way his stare turned sympathetic, just like every nurse who woke me when they were checking my vitals.
Both made me hurt.
Even worse.
“Ashe …”
He shook his head, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t want to have to tell you this.”
I coughed, opening my lungs, the air feeling stuck. There was a hole in my chest so large that I didn’t know how it would ever repair. How this hurt would ever stop burrowing.
“Don’t.” I put my hand over my mouth, needing to filter the cleanness that was going in. “I can’t hear it.” I pulled my other hand away from him and held it against my chest. Pushing. “I … can’t.” I tasted a tear on my lip. Something I hadn’t been sure would ever drip again because I didn’t think I could possibly have any left. I tasted another, remembering that, for a long time, they had been the only things I had to drink. “I c-can’t.” I crawled onto my side, tucking my legs to my chest and reaching for her.
My doll.
But she wasn’t there.
Another pillow was instead.
But I had known the doll. I had known what to expect from her. What I needed from her in that prison and what she was able to give me.
The pillow was a stranger.
I still pulled it against my chest, burying my face in what would have been the doll’s hair.
Silence passed through the room as I tried to breathe, pushing thoughts of Gran far out of my head to a place where I would visit them again—maybe tomorrow or in a week or when I could process time in increments that were longer than a second.
“We don’t have to talk about this now,” Ashe said, and my eyes opened to the sound of his voice. “But you do have lots of options. We can find a small place for you to rent or an inpatient program or you can stay with me.” He paused. “My place isn’t huge, but you can have the bed, and I’ll crash on the couch.”
The pillow was turning wetter. “I don’t know …” It smelled clean. Sterile. Not like any of the prison’s scents. “I don’t know anything.”
There was pressure on my shoulder. It took me a moment to realize it was his hand.
“You’re not supposed to. It’s going to take time, but you’ll get there.”
“Where?” I said softly. “To a place that’s … normal?”
Normal.
My eyes closed again as I swallowed that word, feeling it swirl around my chest like water going down a drain. I couldn’t remember what that felt like. I hadn’t even seen glimpses. The girl I’d been in college, the one heading to New York to act, the one who wrapped her arms around Gran for comfort and love—she was long gone.