Snippets of Memory - The Umbrella Academy

No tears left to cry

Looking back, I know I should have tried to give him the strength to fight, rather than let him get numb that way. Although I helped him to cope with himself, I acted as a catalyst for what he was drowning in. I even encouraged some of his behavior, I think so. But I was young, overwhelmed, and maybe I was trying to run away from it all myself.

Anyway, it was with an unusual smile that I walked through the doors of Lakeshore Hills, and went up to the 'reception' desk in the hallway, where the guy scanned me from the crest to the Dr Martens. His name was Gavin Cromwell: I remember it because the next guy was named Alvin Campbell, which always made me laugh. I looked back at him and, despite his nonchalant air, he seemed to perfectly know who I was. When the rehab staff starts recognizing you, it truly means your life has changed.

"You came to pick up Klaus," he said, and I nodded.
"He's been ready since 6am. We're sick of hearing him sing Beyonce."

I burst out laughing, a sound probably not often witnessed in this yellow-walled hallway that's never been repainted ever since. From the back doors, Klaus probably heard me, too, because even before Gavin called his name, he appeared, waving a final goodbye to one of the guys he'd shared his month of misfortune with. He was wearing a pair of lilac tartan pants and a wide-knit sweater, underneath his usual worn-out coat. He looked as happy as ever, even if his face betrayed a cruel lack of sleep.

"Gavin, buddy of mine," he chuckled, "I left my bag in the locker for the next time."

The man sighed as he placed his check-out sheet on the counter. He returned him one of his favorite granola bars - red berries flavoured this time - along with a glossy peach lipstick and his little multi-purpose knife.

"You think we've got nothing better to do than babysit your pajamas?"
"If I keep them, I'll lose them. I have no use for that thing except for here."

Gavin grumbled, but tossed him his sobriety coin. Klaus had used the first one to sabotage a cigarette vending machine, and this one would certainly not meet a more glorious fate. He stuffed it into his pocket, along with his crumpled discharge form, before turning to me, literally exulting in joy.

"Rin-rin! You dyed your crest a different color!".
As Gavin was nibbling on chips picked from behind his counter, Klaus squeezed me so hard I coughed.
"Get your studs and glitters out of here, both of you. Klaus, don't forget your follow-up appointment in two weeks."
Oh, he'd forget, that was certain, but he replied in a honeyed voice:
"I wouldn't miss my cozy fifteen minutes with Clementine for anything in the world."
Gavin corrected for form's sake:
"Caroline. But for you it's Dr Milligan".

Klaus gestured to him that it didn't matter, and was already dragging me towards the glass doors that would definitively seal his exit.

"Adios, burritos!", he told Gavin and the few voluntary workers. And as the door closed behind us, he added: "Catch you later, cauliflower!"

On the doorstep of the facility, in the February sunshine, I looked at him, realizing that it would probably take him less than a year to be back for another thirty days, all over again in a never-ending cycle. He was aware of this too. But right then, the only thing I said to him was:

"Damn, I missed your bullshit again."

He cracked a light laugh, as if everything he'd just been through had already been exorcised by the simple fact of being out. And also, perhaps, because he was happy that someone had noticed his absence.

"I'm like the snow," he told me as we descended the four steps and walked into the tiny park bordering the building. "It's exciting when it's falling, but you get fed up with it in two days."