Read Online Arms Wide Open: a Novella by Juli Caldwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Juli Caldwell
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my
therapist, and I’ve accepted it. I’m not sure who the old Lauren was, because
she was so sick that she really had no way to know herself. The person I am,
the woman sitting in front of an old friend, is sort of a creation. She didn’t
exist last time this this guy saw her. Tears pool in my eyes. They want to
fall, and it will feel so good to let them go, but I grit my teeth and bite
them back. Talking to my therapist seems easy compared with facing the truth of
who I was and what happened with people I knew best.
I look down and swallow hard. I shake my
head, mad at myself. Mad that I have to tell anyone else. Mad that I’m still
mad at myself. Mad that I’ve accepted what happened and made a life for myself
without my sister.
“Coral was killed in a motorcycle
accident. She went to this party and met a guy who was way too old and driving
way too fast on his bullet bike, showing off for the girls. He decides my sweet
and innocent baby sister is worthy of his affection, and he talks her into
going for a little ride around the neighborhood. She was only fifteen, Oliver.
Her life hadn’t even started. She meets this bonehead loser who’s hot-dogging
to impress the girls...and they crash. The police figured he was going around
130 when he hit the curve and lost control. She was dead and it was all my
fault.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “No way,
Lauren. I mean, do you hear yourself? It’s not your fault some idiot wrecked
his bike.”
I bite my lip as the tears well in my
eyes again. I refuse to let them fall. “No, it really is,” I whisper. “My
parents told her she couldn’t go to that party. I had her come to my dorm for a
slumber party instead...so she could go. I snuck her out while telling my
parents we were just having a sister bonding night. Pajamas and popcorn.
Nothing could be more innocent, right?” I sniffle. “I drove her there and told
her to have fun, get crazy, and I’d come back around three o’clock to get her.
My parents had to go identify her body around three instead.” I snuffle again
and grab my purse, hoping I can find a tissue somewhere in there. I’m looking
just for the sake of doing something other than talking.
“Oh, man,” he says. He sits back and
shoves both his hands through his hair. He looks up at the ceiling as he processes
what I just said. “And...what about you?”
I laugh as I sniffle a bit. My eyes feel
bloodshot and I’m looking up to avoid making eye contact. I finally locate a
tissue and wipe my runny nose. I sniff again. “Turns out I was quite the head
case already. I didn’t know it, of course, but her death made me snap. The
night of Coral’s funeral....I spent that night under the dining room table at
Grant’s apartment, screaming that I was surrounded. It felt so real, those
images so vivid. I swear I was surrounded by faceless creatures in red, hooded
robes, and Coral was telling me to come and join her. Grant was fantastic. He
was so sweet, talked to me, tried to get me out. I think he finally went to
call the cops for help when I ran from under the table and locked myself in the
bathroom, where I promptly swallowed every single pill I could find.”
Oliver’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “I
don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, ” I
tell him simply. “It happened. It’s over. This is my reality now. Mental
illness is like cancer in some ways. When you’re as messed up as I am, you have
good days and bad days, even on the meds. When I’m good, it’s like being in
remission. My roommate Harlow knows what’s up and she lets me know if she sees
anything suspicious where I need to get some extra help to get back on track.”
“So...what do you have?”
I grin, but it’s an empty one. It’s more
like laughing politely at a joke that’s not close to being funny. “What don’t I
have? Bipolar two and a little self-mutilation, with a side of anxiety disorder.
Your eyes are ready to pop out of your
therapist, and I’ve accepted it. I’m not sure who the old Lauren was, because
she was so sick that she really had no way to know herself. The person I am,
the woman sitting in front of an old friend, is sort of a creation. She didn’t
exist last time this this guy saw her. Tears pool in my eyes. They want to
fall, and it will feel so good to let them go, but I grit my teeth and bite
them back. Talking to my therapist seems easy compared with facing the truth of
who I was and what happened with people I knew best.
I look down and swallow hard. I shake my
head, mad at myself. Mad that I have to tell anyone else. Mad that I’m still
mad at myself. Mad that I’ve accepted what happened and made a life for myself
without my sister.
“Coral was killed in a motorcycle
accident. She went to this party and met a guy who was way too old and driving
way too fast on his bullet bike, showing off for the girls. He decides my sweet
and innocent baby sister is worthy of his affection, and he talks her into
going for a little ride around the neighborhood. She was only fifteen, Oliver.
Her life hadn’t even started. She meets this bonehead loser who’s hot-dogging
to impress the girls...and they crash. The police figured he was going around
130 when he hit the curve and lost control. She was dead and it was all my
fault.”
He shakes his head vigorously. “No way,
Lauren. I mean, do you hear yourself? It’s not your fault some idiot wrecked
his bike.”
I bite my lip as the tears well in my
eyes again. I refuse to let them fall. “No, it really is,” I whisper. “My
parents told her she couldn’t go to that party. I had her come to my dorm for a
slumber party instead...so she could go. I snuck her out while telling my
parents we were just having a sister bonding night. Pajamas and popcorn.
Nothing could be more innocent, right?” I sniffle. “I drove her there and told
her to have fun, get crazy, and I’d come back around three o’clock to get her.
My parents had to go identify her body around three instead.” I snuffle again
and grab my purse, hoping I can find a tissue somewhere in there. I’m looking
just for the sake of doing something other than talking.
“Oh, man,” he says. He sits back and
shoves both his hands through his hair. He looks up at the ceiling as he processes
what I just said. “And...what about you?”
I laugh as I sniffle a bit. My eyes feel
bloodshot and I’m looking up to avoid making eye contact. I finally locate a
tissue and wipe my runny nose. I sniff again. “Turns out I was quite the head
case already. I didn’t know it, of course, but her death made me snap. The
night of Coral’s funeral....I spent that night under the dining room table at
Grant’s apartment, screaming that I was surrounded. It felt so real, those
images so vivid. I swear I was surrounded by faceless creatures in red, hooded
robes, and Coral was telling me to come and join her. Grant was fantastic. He
was so sweet, talked to me, tried to get me out. I think he finally went to
call the cops for help when I ran from under the table and locked myself in the
bathroom, where I promptly swallowed every single pill I could find.”
Oliver’s eyes are wide in disbelief. “I
don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything, ” I
tell him simply. “It happened. It’s over. This is my reality now. Mental
illness is like cancer in some ways. When you’re as messed up as I am, you have
good days and bad days, even on the meds. When I’m good, it’s like being in
remission. My roommate Harlow knows what’s up and she lets me know if she sees
anything suspicious where I need to get some extra help to get back on track.”
“So...what do you have?”
I grin, but it’s an empty one. It’s more
like laughing politely at a joke that’s not close to being funny. “What don’t I
have? Bipolar two and a little self-mutilation, with a side of anxiety disorder.
Your eyes are ready to pop out of your
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