After that, the hospital became a blur of activity, until there was no one but us remaining in the waiting room. There was nothing but chairs and time, and neither provided solace. There wasn't anything that we could do. So far, there was nothing that the doctors could do, either, without knowing what was going on. I had no way of knowing how to explain that. Even if I tried, nothing I told them would help to fix my mother.
After hours of waiting, the doctors came out and said that they had to sedate my mother again, and it would be another few hours before they could attempt to converse with her again. They said something about trying to blitz her, which basically meant that they wanted to medicate her into a really long sleep and hoped that pushed the crazy out. Exhaustion makes us become another person.
Right.
My father nodded and said it was time to go, leaving her in the doctors' care.
We made it home Saturday morning without my mother. My father was just grabbing a change of clothes and a much-needed shower before going back to the hospital. My mother was unconscious, still sedated, and no matter how many times I was asked what happened, my answer remained the same: I don't know.
Sitting on the couch, I held my hands in my lap and looked around, not really seeing, but too afraid to close my eyes.
"I'll be back in time to authorize the party with the Hall's Manager, okay?" My dad came down the stairs, pulling me from my thoughts. "Can you be ready by five?" He set his bag down, his skin still glistening with beads of water from his shower.
I coughed at the end of a snort, almost choking. "That's like, a joke, right? You don't expect me to do it?" I looked up from my lap where my hands were clasped, void of nails even though I had never been a biter, and I rolled my eyes. "You want me to have a party while mom's in the hospital?"
"I do, actually." He nodded. "And, so would your mother."
"That's not true."
He shrugged. "Okay, so your mother wouldn't, but I do, and until—" he looked at his watch and then back to me "—10:47, you have to do as I say."
"Dad—"
"Just go to the party, Aly," he said, sighing, and pulled his hand down his face. He looked up with tired eyes and added, "I did a lot to make this happen and it's all paid for. You don't need to be at the hospital while she's not aware you are there."
I nodded, but still didn't feel right about it. My mother was in the hospital and I was off to enjoy a party? Right. Daughter of the Year over here. But, on the other hand, he was here, asking me to do something for him. After being the reason that my mother was in the hospital, how could I refuse?
"Fine." I sighed and stood, heading to the stairs. "I'll see you at five."
My dad nodded and picked up his bag, carrying it over to the front door before slinging it over his shoulder. He rested his hand on the knob and looked up. "Aly?"
I paused halfway up the stairs, holding my breath. Had he figured out whose fault this was? "What?"
He laughed. "Set your alarm."
I was glad someone could still laugh. Muttering under my breath too low for him to hear, I slumped into my room as the front door slammed and fell onto my bed face-down with my arms spread wide at my sides. My alarm clock remained untouched, still broken, and I rolled onto my back, numb.
*****
For the first hour, I rested on my back, staring at the ceiling fan as I counted rotations. But then the sun shifted, and each circle the fan completed sent shadows dancing across the walls. So, I sat up, hugging my knees to my chest, and stared at my lamp. I couldn't sleep after everything that had happened, even with every light in the house on. It was daytime, but dark corners still provided room for shadows to dwell. Scared and alone, with only Scruffy at my side, I couldn't take any chances—even blinking became hard to endure.
My body felt coiled, filled with unspent energy, and I was beginning to understand what people meant when they said anxiety could be a debilitating disorder. Being at the party was sure to produce another type of stress, but at least I wouldn't have to be alone. I wouldn't have to dwell on what I could have done to help my mother or how the reason she stuck in what seemed to me to be a state of mental hell was because of me.
I was grateful when Suzie arrived at two that afternoon to distract me.
She burst into my room with rollers in her hair and bags of treasure, prepared to turn me into a princess. If only for one night, and so long as I didn't speak, as that would give me away for the commoner that I was. But, given that none of what she offered was what I'd asked her to burn, I would endure with a perma-smile pasted on my face.
It kept me from falling asleep and wallowing over what I couldn't fix.
I suffered in silence as she twisted and pulled on my hair, first curling it and then deciding straight was better. She plucked, glossed, slathered and poked—nobody should trust her with an eye pencil—and finally, when she turned me to face the mirror and yelled, "Tada!" I didn't know who I was.
Gone were the circles of worry swollen from lack of sleep and the too-pale skin surrounding lackluster eyes. The timid mouse afraid of threatening shadows had disappeared. I was a beautiful lily bloomed, floating on a clear blue pond. My skin looked kissed by dew, my eyes sparkled like aqua-flecked sapphire, polished and smooth, and my neck looked long and fluid with the grace of a swan.
I smiled and turned, pulling Suzie, my very own fairy godmother, into a fierce hug.
"Do. Not. Ruin your make-up," she mumbled into my shoulder, but I felt her smile against my skin. She pulled away and I turned back to the mirror, transfixed by the transformation.
I'd never been vain, but how had she changed me so much without it looking like I'd changed at all? Sure, there was a bit of shine here and there, but on the whole? Taking it all in with my hair straightened and pinned back on one side to fall in choppy, diagonal layers on the other? With my caramel streaks flashing in the light and gleaming to show off the creaminess of my skin, it was natural.
At sixteen, I'd looked twelve, and now the two-year delay in parties made me feel good.
I looked like a young adult.
Finally.
"This is awesome, Suzie," I said, and reached up to my hair. "Thank you!"
She pounced, snatching my hand away from my head. "Do not touch that. Your hair won't even hold a curl, it's so fine. If you touch it, you'll make it fall from its pins."
I raised my eyebrow, skeptical. She'd used a whole package of pins, and even though I couldn't see them, my head was like a metal plate pinning my smile in place.
"Seriously, Aly, don't shake or nod your head until we're so hammered that I don't care anymore."
I started to nod and found her finger in my face so fast, it almost went up my nose. Pulling my hand down, I laughed, stepping around her to sit back on my bed, and folded my legs under me as she took the chair.
"What should I wear?"
Tilting her head up and to the right so her nose stuck up in the air, she pursed her lips and said, "Absolutely nothing from your closet." Lowering her chin again, she reached up and started taking the rollers out of her hair, placing them on the desk after they'd been unwound.
"But—"
"Ah!" She raised her finger and dug into her bag and half of her hair fell over her shoulder while the other half remained in rollers. When she pulled out what she was looking for, my eyes bugged. "Here you go."
The black heels she hung on her fingers were like, four inches, with straps that looked too confusing to be comfortable. They were pretty, sure, but too dangerous for me. Pointing at them dangling, swaying between us, I shook my head and leaned back. "I will spend the night on my face in those, Suzie. No chance in hell those are going on my feet."
She laughed. "These?" She hugged them, purring like a contented kitten, and petted the side of the heels. "These are mine, so hands off." She turned back to her bag and made a production of pulling another pair out. "This pair is for you."
I let out my breath and took the new pair of sandals. With less than an inch added in wedge heels, the silver pumps with criss-crossing straps were beautiful. Even better, they looked tolerable. At least until midnight, which is how long I'd given myself until my pumpkin carriage brought me home. Party or not, host or not, I still hadn't slept, and this princess was tired.
Tomorrow promised to be an early start, because if I couldn't go today, I would be by my mother's side at first light.
Looking around, I darted my eyes back to Suzie, who was almost finished with her curlers, her hair falling as waves down her back like spun rays of sunlight. "So, where's the dress?"
"Oh, that's a surprise," she said, tilting her head to the side to get the last roller free, and then reached back into her bag. "We'll change at the hall. I've already dropped them off so that you can't talk me into revealing it." With a grunt of victory, she pulled out a plastic make-up bag filled with nail polishes and swung it back and forth from her fingers. She tapped the clear case with her free hand and wiggled her eyebrows. "What colour do you want?"
"None?" Looking down, I sighed. Hitting people in the face chipped it away, and I hadn't bothered with manicures since training with Gus had begun.
"You have to wear something!" She dropped both hands to her lap, clutching the bag of nail polish, and her eyes went wide.
"Ugh, fine." I rolled my eyes and leaned forward. "I'll choose... that one." I pointed to the bottom of the bag to the clearest, least shiny colour she had, which was an opaque pearl with a dash of sparkle. It was understated enough that nobody would notice if I forgot to remove it within a week, if ever.
Suzie looked down and sighed, lifting it for inspection. Dropping it again, she looked up and met my gaze. "You're dull."
Knowing she couldn't change my selection, she smoothed on four coats, sticking my hand under the dryer after each time. I tried not to complain but stopped her before she could start a fifth coat.
"There!" She grinned, holding out her cyan blue fingernails next to mine. "It's like snow meeting the sky."
"Yeah, you used so many coats on mine so that would happen, didn't you?" At least I could keep this on until graduation and save myself the headache of fighting her over a repeat visit.
Before Suzie could respond, the door downstairs opened and slammed shut. I jumped up to greet my father, nearly throwing myself into his arms when we met halfway down the stairs with gratitude for saving me from what I could only assume came next: a pedicure. Gross. I hated feet, refusing to touch anyone else's, and the last person who had tried to touch mine? Had been kicked in the throat—before I learned to fight. Of course, I apologized after I had calmed down.
"Are you girls ready?" My dad asked, pulling away so he could track his steps back down the stairs and look up at us.
He appeared weak and tired, aged since the last time I had seen him—a decade in hours. If I jumped at him, he would fall. It was only four, an hour before his pick-up time.
"How's Mom?" I narrowed my eyes, not wanting to miss any of his tells, and sucked in my breath, holding it as though afraid my breathing would swallow his answer.