Losing Leah

“That’s where he made his mistake. He should have given you the sushi first. It’s not fair to give you a juicy burger and fries and then expect you to like sushi,” she said, winking at me. “Do you two have plans for today?”

I nodded, barely able to contain my excitement. Gunner had promised something special since I was being released the next day. He knew how nervous I was about leaving and he promised to make me forget about my fear of what lay beyond the hospital walls. It was a tall order considering the anxiety I was experiencing. I was scared to leave what had come to feel like a sanctuary. Thanks to Gunner’s influence, I was able to talk to everyone in the hospital with more ease. They greeted me like an old friend, especially after I had learned most of their names.

“Gunner says it’s a surprise.”

“Sounds like he’s becoming a very good friend.”

I gnawed on the side of my thumb. “He is. I’m going to miss him.”

She tapped her pen on her notepad. It was a tic that I wasn’t even sure she was aware of. “I’m sure you will at first, but you’re going to make lots of new friends. Your mom says you’ll be starting school next week. How does that make you feel?”

The piece of skin I was tugging at with my teeth came free, leaving a small trickle of blood. “Fine,” I lied.

She eyed me knowingly. “Mia.”

I huffed. It was annoying that she knew me so well. “I’m scared. Why can’t I stay here for a little while longer? I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Mia, this,” she said, sweeping her hands around the room, “this is a small fraction of what you’re going to experience. I know the world feels like a scary place at the moment and I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling. You barely got a chance to live before you were ripped away. We haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of what you went through, but I also know you’re still harboring feelings of guilt. You’re a brave young lady, Mia, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that you’re going to find your footing. I will be here

to help you through this transition as will your family. You won’t be alone.”

I pondered her words, turning them over and over again in my mind. It all sounded so easy when she put it that way, and yet the idea of walking out of the building the next day was overwhelmingly frightening.

My session with Dr. Marshall ended when Mom showed up with lunch. Dr. Marshall went over my schedule and the anxiety medicine and sleeping pills she was prescribing for me. “I want you to call me if you start to panic and the anxiety pills don’t work.” She handed Mom two slips of paper. “I’ll prescribe something stronger if this one doesn’t work.” She and Mom looked at me sternly.

It was no secret that I kept things bottled up. I didn’t like to complain. Gunner had teased me the day before, saying I was an anomaly in a world of whiners who sought out attention. I rolled my eyes, which was a brand-new gesture I was perfecting. Along with exposing me to new things, Gunner was also schooling me on how to fit in. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. I’d once read a quote about the “blind leading the blind.” It couldn’t have fit us more perfectly.

My thoughts were pulled back to the conversation between Dr. Marshall and Mom when I heard my name mentioned. “Remember, baby steps,” Dr. Marshall instructed me. “No one is expecting you to fit right in.”

I nodded numbly, trying to keep my concern from reaching full-on freak-out mode.

Dr. Marshall surprised me by giving me a tight hug before she left. In the seventeen sessions we’d seen each other, she had yet to touch me. Her hug was unexpected, but I couldn’t resist returning it tightly. Hugging was still so new to me that each one felt different from the last. This one felt like a promise of hope and strength. It was as if she were trying to pass on the emotional weapons I would need to survive.

Mom and I ate a quiet lunch after Dr. Marshall left. “Tomorrow, once we get you settled in at home, I thought we could do some shopping.” Mom grabbed a chip out of her bag with two fingers.

My bite of sandwich stuck in my throat. I took a long swig of Coke, which was another Gunner influence.

He was so funny, pretending like he was having a heart attack when I told him I had never had a soda before. Without a word, he snatched his wallet off the table and grabbed my hand. The next thing I knew we were standing in front of a soda machine and he was handing me dollars to feed into it. He wasn’t satisfied until we had one of every kind. Getting the cold cans to his room turned out to be a feat. I’d ended up dropping one, which promptly exploded, earning me a frown from a nurse who paged for custodial. Undeterred, Gunner dragged me back to the vending machine to replace the exploded drink. After finally making it back to his room, he promptly set up what he referred to as a taste test. I liked most of the drinks I tried, but in the end, Coke was the winner. Since then I had been guzzling it like water.

“So, would you like that?” Mom asked.

I couldn’t even form a sentence. Instead, I nodded like a puppet. Somewhere in my deepest dreams, shopping was another item on my list of things I yearned for but never expected to do. I’d read about shopping in books and seen it on TV, but that was the extent of my experience with it.

“I figured you could use some new school clothes. You can’t very well wear your robe and pajamas every day.” She was teasing. I had learned to tell the difference. “Your room could also use an update. I was going to go without you, but figured you might like picking out your own things.”

My eyes became misty, but I wasn’t sad and I wasn’t hurt. My eyes were wet from joy. “Thank you.” I reached out tentatively to touch the back of her hand. It was the first time I had initiated contact between us.

Mom’s eyes matched mine, tears spilling down her cheeks as our fingers laced together. Maybe everything would work out.

My gesture seemed to bust the invisible wall that had been firmly wedged between us. Our conversation became easier. We didn’t have to work so hard to keep it going. Whether we meant to our not, we avoided talking about the last ten years. Instead, we talked about my new room and our upcoming shopping spree.

I was still buzzing with excitement when I met Gunner that afternoon. I went on like a chatterbox, dominating the conversation as he guided me away from our wing of the hospital. Only when he started laughing did I realize I’d barely given him an opportunity to talk. “Oops.” I blushed deeply, grateful that he couldn’t see the ten different shades of red on my face.

He patted my hand that was tucked through his arm. “I like it. You finally sound like a normal teen.”

“What do I normally sound like?”

He didn’t even hesitate before answering. “An adult with the weight of the world on their shoulders. And that’s when I can actually get you to talk. You have a beautiful voice. I’m happy to hear it filled with such happiness.”