Read Online Girl in Pieces by Kathleen Glasgow - Free Book Online
Authors: Kathleen Glasgow
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plastic tables, Miss Joni walking around, murmuring in her deep, warm voice. Miss Joni wears purple turbans and lumberjack shirts. When I came to Crafts the first time and just sat, doing nothing, she only said, “Sitting’s all right, too, girlfriend. You just sit as long as you want.”
I didn’t just sit because I didn’t want to paste sparkly stars on colored paper or blend watery paints, I sat because my arms hurt. My arms hurt all the way to my fingertips and they were so heavy in their bandages.
They still hurt. But today when Miss Joni says, “Dr. Stinson and I had a little chat,” and slides me a beautiful, blank pad of all-purpose newsprint paper and a brand-new stick of charcoal, I greedily clutch the stick in my fingers. Little sparks of pain shoot up and down my forearm. My scars are still tender and tight and will be for a long, long time, but I don’t care. I breathe hard. I work hard. My fingers take care of me. It’s been so long, but they know what to do.
I draw her. I draw them. I fill my paper with Ellis and Mikey, Evan and Dump, even DannyBoy. I fill every last piece of paper until I have a whole world of
missing.
When I look up, everyone is gone except Miss Joni and she’s turned the lights on. It’s dark outside the window. She’s sipping from a Styrofoam cup of coffee and scrolling on her pink phone.
She looks up and smiles. She says, “Better?”
I nod. “Better.”
Today I’m excited to meet with Casper. I want to tell her about Crafts, and what I drew and what drawing means to me. I think that will make her happy. But when I push open the door, she’s not alone. Dr. Helen is with her.
The turtle is hiding inside the sunken ship.
Dr. Helen turns around when I enter the room and says, “Oh, Charlotte, please sit down, here.” And she pats the brown chair I always sit in. I look at Casper, but her smile isn’t as nice as it usually is. It looks…smaller.
Dr. Helen is a lot older than Casper, with lines at the edges of her eyes and rouge that’s too dark for her skin.
“Dr. Stinson and I have been reviewing your progress, Charlotte. I’m happy to see you’ve made some strong strides in such a short time.”
I don’t know if I’m supposed to answer her, or smile, or what, so I don’t say anything. I kind of start pinching my thighs through the flowery skirt, but Casper notices and frowns, so I stop.
“You’ve been through so much, and at such a young age, I just…” And here, weirdly, she stops, and kind of sets her jaw and says, very sharp, to Casper, “Are you not going to help at all with this, Bethany?”
And I’m still absorbing Casper’s name,
Bethany Bethany Bethany,
so it takes a while for me to understand what she’s telling me.
I say, “What?”
Casper repeats, “You’re being discharged.”
Dr. Helen talks then, about a special sort of psychiatric hold that allowed me to be treated at the hospital, and about my mother having to meet with a judge and sign papers, because “you were a danger to yourself and others,” and insurance, and my Grammy, who I haven’t thought of in a very long time. All the words kind of bang around my brain as my heart squeezes into a tinier and tinier thing and I ask about my mom, but it comes out in a stutter. I bite down on my tongue until I get a faint, metallic taste of blood.
Casper says, “Your mother’s not working right now, so there isn’t any possibility of coverage. As I understand it, some of your stay has been covered by your grandmother, but she’s unable to continue due to her own health and financial care issues.”
“Did something happen to my grandmother?”
“I don’t know,” answers Casper.
“You talked to my mother?”
Casper nods.
“Did she…did she say anything about me?”
Casper looks at Dr. Helen, who says, “We’re working as hard as possible to locate resources for you. In fact, Bethany, how are we doing on the bed at the house on Palace?”
When Casper doesn’t
I didn’t just sit because I didn’t want to paste sparkly stars on colored paper or blend watery paints, I sat because my arms hurt. My arms hurt all the way to my fingertips and they were so heavy in their bandages.
They still hurt. But today when Miss Joni says, “Dr. Stinson and I had a little chat,” and slides me a beautiful, blank pad of all-purpose newsprint paper and a brand-new stick of charcoal, I greedily clutch the stick in my fingers. Little sparks of pain shoot up and down my forearm. My scars are still tender and tight and will be for a long, long time, but I don’t care. I breathe hard. I work hard. My fingers take care of me. It’s been so long, but they know what to do.
I draw her. I draw them. I fill my paper with Ellis and Mikey, Evan and Dump, even DannyBoy. I fill every last piece of paper until I have a whole world of
missing.
When I look up, everyone is gone except Miss Joni and she’s turned the lights on. It’s dark outside the window. She’s sipping from a Styrofoam cup of coffee and scrolling on her pink phone.
She looks up and smiles. She says, “Better?”
I nod. “Better.”
Today I’m excited to meet with Casper. I want to tell her about Crafts, and what I drew and what drawing means to me. I think that will make her happy. But when I push open the door, she’s not alone. Dr. Helen is with her.
The turtle is hiding inside the sunken ship.
Dr. Helen turns around when I enter the room and says, “Oh, Charlotte, please sit down, here.” And she pats the brown chair I always sit in. I look at Casper, but her smile isn’t as nice as it usually is. It looks…smaller.
Dr. Helen is a lot older than Casper, with lines at the edges of her eyes and rouge that’s too dark for her skin.
“Dr. Stinson and I have been reviewing your progress, Charlotte. I’m happy to see you’ve made some strong strides in such a short time.”
I don’t know if I’m supposed to answer her, or smile, or what, so I don’t say anything. I kind of start pinching my thighs through the flowery skirt, but Casper notices and frowns, so I stop.
“You’ve been through so much, and at such a young age, I just…” And here, weirdly, she stops, and kind of sets her jaw and says, very sharp, to Casper, “Are you not going to help at all with this, Bethany?”
And I’m still absorbing Casper’s name,
Bethany Bethany Bethany,
so it takes a while for me to understand what she’s telling me.
I say, “What?”
Casper repeats, “You’re being discharged.”
Dr. Helen talks then, about a special sort of psychiatric hold that allowed me to be treated at the hospital, and about my mother having to meet with a judge and sign papers, because “you were a danger to yourself and others,” and insurance, and my Grammy, who I haven’t thought of in a very long time. All the words kind of bang around my brain as my heart squeezes into a tinier and tinier thing and I ask about my mom, but it comes out in a stutter. I bite down on my tongue until I get a faint, metallic taste of blood.
Casper says, “Your mother’s not working right now, so there isn’t any possibility of coverage. As I understand it, some of your stay has been covered by your grandmother, but she’s unable to continue due to her own health and financial care issues.”
“Did something happen to my grandmother?”
“I don’t know,” answers Casper.
“You talked to my mother?”
Casper nods.
“Did she…did she say anything about me?”
Casper looks at Dr. Helen, who says, “We’re working as hard as possible to locate resources for you. In fact, Bethany, how are we doing on the bed at the house on Palace?”
When Casper doesn’t
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