tells her, beaming at Mrs. Helman with what I’ve started calling her Paranormal Smile. “She’s improving every day.”
Considering we’ve just left Lara having to be given something “to calm her down” because she was crying her eyes out, I have to wonder if my mother is living in some kind of alternative reality.
“I’m so happy to hear that,” Mrs. Helman says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
And then Mom asks her if she’s planning to go to the city council election debate, and I have to walk away, because it’s just too weird to hear Mom talking about her opponent, school funding, and property taxes like nothing is wrong. Going on like life is normal when we’d just left Lara behind locked doors that they have to buzz you in and out of like a prison. Pretending that everyone at school, everyone on our street isn’t talking, isn’t wondering what’s so wrong with us that would make Lara do it.
Dad went back to work after the hospital, and Mom and I have already eaten by the time he gets home, so he grabs a plate and comes to sit with me and watch TV. I’m watching a rerun of some old rom-com movie because I don’t want to think about anything other than laughing.
“Can I switch to the news?” Dad asks.
“Dad, I’m watching this!”
“You’ve seen that movie at least five times already, Syd,” he says. “And it’s not exactly intellectually stimulating.”
“I don’t want intellectually stimulating,” I say, throwing the remote control in his lap and getting up off the sofa. “I want something that’s going to take my mind off this crazy house and all the crazy people in it!”
I stomp up to my room and hurl myself on the bed. I wish I were old enough to drive so I could get in the car and just go somewhere. Not that I have a destination in mind. Anywhere but here.
Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. The closest thing I have is a book. I pull one of my favorites off the shelf and start reading it again, hoping that reading about other people’s problems will help me forget my own.
My sister is home from the hospital by the time I get back from school the next day.
“Shh!” Mom says when I let myself into the kitchen. “Lara’s resting. She tires very easily.”
“Is she in the family room?” I ask. “Because I have homework to do and I need to use the computer.”
“No, she’s in her room,” Mom says.
“So … why do I have to shush, then? She’s upstairs. I’m downstairs. I can’t even talk in my own house?”
We’re inside the house, so the Paranormal Smile is nowhere to be seen. Mom gives an exasperated sigh. “Sit down, Sydney. I need to explain a few rules going forward,” she says.
This doesn’t sound good. I slide into a chair at the table and perch on the edge, waiting for the axe to fall. What are my parents going to take away from me this time because of Lara?
“Your sister is still in a … fragile state,” Mom says. “We have to keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t come to any harm.”
“Wait, you mean she might try to kill herself again?”
“There’s no immediate risk but —”
“If they thought she might try to do it again, why’d they let her out of the freaking hospital?” I ask, my voice rising in anger at the doctors who made the decision.
I don’t want to knock on my sister’s door or the bathroom door and get no answer and wonder if she’s okay or if she’s dead. I don’t want to feel that sick, gut-wrenching panic ever again.
“Sydney, keep your voice down!” Mom hisses. “Lara’s sleeping.”
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing my sister might try to kill herself in the next room at any random moment?”
“Can you just listen to me before you start with the drama?” Mom says.
Oh, I’m the one with the drama? Wow, Mom.
“Lara will be seeing a therapist regularly, and I have to keep her under constant observation,” Mom continues. “That means she has
Considering we’ve just left Lara having to be given something “to calm her down” because she was crying her eyes out, I have to wonder if my mother is living in some kind of alternative reality.
“I’m so happy to hear that,” Mrs. Helman says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
And then Mom asks her if she’s planning to go to the city council election debate, and I have to walk away, because it’s just too weird to hear Mom talking about her opponent, school funding, and property taxes like nothing is wrong. Going on like life is normal when we’d just left Lara behind locked doors that they have to buzz you in and out of like a prison. Pretending that everyone at school, everyone on our street isn’t talking, isn’t wondering what’s so wrong with us that would make Lara do it.
Dad went back to work after the hospital, and Mom and I have already eaten by the time he gets home, so he grabs a plate and comes to sit with me and watch TV. I’m watching a rerun of some old rom-com movie because I don’t want to think about anything other than laughing.
“Can I switch to the news?” Dad asks.
“Dad, I’m watching this!”
“You’ve seen that movie at least five times already, Syd,” he says. “And it’s not exactly intellectually stimulating.”
“I don’t want intellectually stimulating,” I say, throwing the remote control in his lap and getting up off the sofa. “I want something that’s going to take my mind off this crazy house and all the crazy people in it!”
I stomp up to my room and hurl myself on the bed. I wish I were old enough to drive so I could get in the car and just go somewhere. Not that I have a destination in mind. Anywhere but here.
Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. The closest thing I have is a book. I pull one of my favorites off the shelf and start reading it again, hoping that reading about other people’s problems will help me forget my own.
My sister is home from the hospital by the time I get back from school the next day.
“Shh!” Mom says when I let myself into the kitchen. “Lara’s resting. She tires very easily.”
“Is she in the family room?” I ask. “Because I have homework to do and I need to use the computer.”
“No, she’s in her room,” Mom says.
“So … why do I have to shush, then? She’s upstairs. I’m downstairs. I can’t even talk in my own house?”
We’re inside the house, so the Paranormal Smile is nowhere to be seen. Mom gives an exasperated sigh. “Sit down, Sydney. I need to explain a few rules going forward,” she says.
This doesn’t sound good. I slide into a chair at the table and perch on the edge, waiting for the axe to fall. What are my parents going to take away from me this time because of Lara?
“Your sister is still in a … fragile state,” Mom says. “We have to keep a close eye on her to make sure she doesn’t come to any harm.”
“Wait, you mean she might try to kill herself again?”
“There’s no immediate risk but —”
“If they thought she might try to do it again, why’d they let her out of the freaking hospital?” I ask, my voice rising in anger at the doctors who made the decision.
I don’t want to knock on my sister’s door or the bathroom door and get no answer and wonder if she’s okay or if she’s dead. I don’t want to feel that sick, gut-wrenching panic ever again.
“Sydney, keep your voice down!” Mom hisses. “Lara’s sleeping.”
“How am I supposed to sleep knowing my sister might try to kill herself in the next room at any random moment?”
“Can you just listen to me before you start with the drama?” Mom says.
Oh, I’m the one with the drama? Wow, Mom.
“Lara will be seeing a therapist regularly, and I have to keep her under constant observation,” Mom continues. “That means she has
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