Days Like This by Danielle Ellison Page A

help her
keep him.
    Mom turned, and
I watched as her face changed from boredom to happiness as she saw me. The
smile spread across her face, bringing out the lines around her eyes. Mom was
out of her chair before I could blink. She flung herself into my arms and
squeezed. Even in the staleness of the hospital, I could smell the faint scent
of honey soap, and with her arms wrapped around me, I was like a kid again with
a mom who wasn’t sick. A kid who scraped her knee or got a bee-sting and had a
mom to cling to. Before I became the one she clung to instead. I almost didn’t
want her to let go.
    “Cassidee,”
she whispered in my ear. “You’re really here? I’m not dreaming.”
    I swallowed. “Not
a dream.”
    She ran her hand
across my face. “You hair is short, and dark.”
    “You like it?”
    Mom dragged me
toward a seat on the other side of the room, telling some of the other patients
that I was her daughter, and lowered us both down onto a couch. “I love it! I
think this is the style you’ve been missing all your life,” she said. She
seemed happy to see me. This was more than the meds and more than a pretty day
and more than being gone for so long. This was genuine. She started rambling
about how she should do her hair the same way, and I grabbed her arm.
    “You’re okay
now?”
    She waved me
off. “Of course I am. You didn’t have to leave school for me. You should be
there. I’m sure you have a lot of classes.”
    I shook my
head. “It’s fine. I’m almost done. I’ll finish everything from home. I’m here
now.”
    Mom nodded.
“Good. Can we go home? I’m ready for some real food.”
    “I have to
meet Dr. Lambert. It’s up to her when you can go.”
    Mom squeezed
my hand, and I patted the top of hers with my other one. Mom nearly burned the
house down and now she acted like I held the key to all her happiness. Once
again her life was wrapped up in mine, and I wondered what else me leaving did
to her. I wondered what it’d done to Graham.

    DR. LAMBERT FOCUSED her stern
gaze on me. “You’re sure that you are up for this?”
    I nodded.
“I’ve been dealing with her bipolar disorder all my life.”
    “I’m aware.
I’m also aware of our last conversation nearly a year ago,” she said, looking
at me over a pair of glasses. The last time I was in her office I’d been
worried that I was bipolar. I’d felt like I’d been slipping, like I’d lost some
of my own sensibility. She said it was anxiety. She’d said that sometimes, when
people are dealing with someone who’s sick, they feel like they have those same
qualities, and that I should do something for myself. I said I had to stay—for
Mom and for Graham—and she helped me see I was wrong. Then he proposed, and Mom
had an episode, and I left.
    “You left
school to be here?” she asked.
    I shifted in
the chair. It was strange talking to her behind a desk. “I only have finals.
They arranged for me to do them remotely. I can help out here and then go back
to school or whatever I need to do.”
    She didn’t seem
to believe me. I didn’t even know if I believed me. I didn’t even know what I
needed to do or wanted to do.
    “What are you
pursuing in school?” Dr. Lambert asked.
    I didn’t have
an answer. Something, nothing, no idea. I didn’t want to get into all of that
with Dr. Lambert. I wanted to get Mom and go. “I’m undeclared. When can we go?”
    “Come back
tomorrow, and I’ll draw up the papers. Graham will need to come in, since he
admitted her. We’ll call him,” she said. I nodded. “She has to be here twice a
week for a session with me. She has to take her meds. If she doesn’t commit to
helping herself, then we’ll have to re-evaluate.”
    “Thanks,” I
said. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.
     

11.
Graham
    I LOGGED INTO my account at
Rice University’s website. Any day now I could be taken off the wait-list for
the undergrad program for architecture. After two years of general