A Five-Minute Life
“I warned him,” she said. “And he still couldn’t keep his hands off you.”
“You don’t get to say whose hands I want on me.”
“Neither do you.” Her expression was smug. “It’s against sanitarium policy.”
“Fuck the policy and fuck you, Delia!”
She stared as if I’d slapped her.
?
??You can’t dictate my life,” I said. “You want him fired because he kissed me? I wanted it, Delia. I want him. I want to live. Goddamn, do I need to write it down? More word chains? More paintings? I’m standing right in front of you and telling you what I want, and you can’t hear me.”
“Are you done?” Delia asked.
I blinked. “Am I… done? No. I’m not done. I haven’t even started yet. I’m leaving.” I went to my dresser, yanked out the entire drawer, and upturned it on the bed.
“You can’t leave,” Delia said.
“Watch me.”
I went to the closet, grabbed my new clothes off the hangers and dumped them too.
“Miss Hughes,” Rita said, appearing at the door, breathlessly. “Is everything all right?”
I whirled on her, hand outstretched and fingers trembling. “Give me the Hazarin, Rita.”
“She can’t do that,” Delia said. “Rita, can you leave us, please?”
Rita hesitated.
“Don’t go,” I said, my voice cracking. “Please…”
“Nurse Soto,” Delia snapped.
“I’ll be right out here,” Rita said to me, her eyes pleading. She stepped outside and closed the door.
“I hate you,” I seethed at my sister.
“You are going to listen to reason,” Delia said, her eyes blazing. “For the first time in your life.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not listening to you. I’m going to write a letter to a judge to rescind your power of attorney. I looked it up. I can—”
“I’ll fight it,” Delia said calmly. “So long as the doctors say—”
“Why?” I demanded incredulously. “What is going on with you? And why do you hate Jim? Why is the idea of me being with him so hard to take? Or me being awake at all?”
“It’s not—”
“You act like you wish I hadn’t had this procedure.”
“That’s not true—”
“Then why can’t you let me go?”
“Because I was going to leave and now I can’t.”
I froze. “What?”