That’s what I had before Thea. It wasn’t much, but at least there hadn’t been so much damn confusion. Or this ache in my chest that didn’t quit. A longing. Strange emotions I’d never experienced before, like bright swaths of color over a drab gray sky. They swept through me when I thought of Thea. I remembered the softness of her hair and how good it felt to hold her, even if it was to keep her from falling apart.
It wasn’t right to feel like this. It wasn’t right to feel anything for a girl who had no control over who was in her life. Who couldn’t make a single informed decision. Who smiled her brilliant smile at those around her because what choice did she have but to trust us?
I wanted to be a choice she made, not a stranger she was forced to contend with. And it wasn’t fair to put that pressure on her, even if she never knew it. I knew it, and it wasn’t right.
I needed to quit.
After I walked Mr. Perello back to his room, I headed for the break room, hoping to catch Alonzo. I’d hand in my resignation. It’d be hard on the staff to fill my hours until they found a replacement, but they’d manage. Especially with a new director and increased funds. Blue Ridge would survive without me. Like Thea after a reset hit, they’d never know I was gone.
Pity party, you big dummy?
I shrugged Doris off. No pity. Just facts.
But Alonzo wasn’t around, and I figured I should finish the full day’s work. I went to the rec room to clean up.
I stopped short to see Dr. Chen at the shelf along one wall. Even from the door, I knew she was looking at Thea’s drawings. Dr. Chen held the paper and turned it slowly, reading the word chains.
The broom handle banged against the door as I entered the room and Dr. Chen looked up.
“Hello,” she said. She couldn’t be more than thirty-five, with a sharp intelligence in her eyes and a kind smile. “Don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dr. Christina Chen.”
“Jim Whelan,” I said. “I can come back.”
“You’re the one who stopped the orderly from assaulting Miss Hughes,” Dr. Chen said. “We’re all so grateful to you. Truly.” The doctor looked back at Thea’s drawings. “Have you seen these? Quite extraordinary.”
“Yeah, I have,” I said, glancing behind me, expecting Delia Hughes to materialize in a cloud of green smoke. “Thea uses them to communicate. I think they’re her memory.”
“Do you?” Her tone was inviting, not derogatory. “How so?”
I crossed over to her. Hell, if I were going to quit anyway, I had nothing to lose. I pulled out the folded drawing I kept in my back pocket. “You see this one?” I pointed to the word chain:
Rue true blue bluest sky eye my smile rile rain pain pain pain
“Those are song lyrics,” I said. “‘Sweet Child O’ Mine.’ I played it for her when I took her for a walk, and she drew this the next day.”
Dr. Chen’s eyes widened. “Has this happened more than once?”
I found and showed her more examples, along with the drawing that clued me in to Brett’s assaults.
Dr. Chen nodded. “I see.”
Hope took flight in my heart. “D-D-Do you?”
She nodded. “Dr. Stevens’ notes regard the word chains as Thea’s brain exercising itself the only way it knows how. But perhaps that’s because he had no context for them.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Do they m-m-mean anything to you?” I asked, my jaw stiffening at that damn stutter.
She cocked her head. “You have a slight disfluency, Jim?” Before I could answer, she said, “I only bring it up so that we can acknowledge it, and you don’t have to feel self-conscious.” Her focus went back to the word chains. “I heard about Thea’s painting. She ruined it as a result of the abuse happening to her at night?”
“Yes,” I said. “Exactly. She r-r-remembers.”
Dr. Chen studied the drawing a final time. “We’ll see. Some tests need to be run, of course.”
“You can help her?”
The doctor gathered the drawings into a stack and tucked them under her arm. “Before coming here, I completed a fellowship with Dr. Bernard Milton, one of the premiere neuropsychologists in Australia. He’s doing amazing, groundbreaking things to restore memory loss in special candidates, using stem cells and nanotechnology.”
I listened, rapt. As if this woman were unspooling the secrets of the universe.