A Five-Minute Life

“I didn’t tell her,” I said.

“Someone said something. Something’s happened. If I find out it was you—”

“I swear, I haven’t told her.”

She lifted her chin. “This is the second time in two days I’m discussing my sister with an orderly,” she said. “You are to leave her alone, do you hear me? This is your last warning.”

With a final, parting glare, she went and sat beside Thea, her arm around her, murmuring comfort in her ear.

I pulled Rita aside.

“It’s because of the painting. I never should’ve bought the canvas.”

“I don’t know,” Rita said, biting her lip. “She’s been so happy. I think you were helping.”

“Maybe I wasn’t,” I said. “Maybe I made her worse. I should stay away. No more walks.”

Rita shook her head, her eyes on Thea. “I don’t know, Jim. I just don’t know.”

I didn’t sleep for shit that night, and as much as I needed to see her, the following day I didn’t give Thea her FAE. I waited with my guts twisting in knots until it was rec time.

Thea stood in front of her painting in the corner, studying what she had created over the last few days. New York City under a brilliant summer sky.

A masterpiece.

“How is she?” I asked Rita.

“Not good,” she said. “Worse, I think. She’s not herself. But she’s with her painting now. Maybe it will help.”

For long minutes, Thea didn’t move, and I wondered if she felt the painting was finished. Then she reached for the tube of black paint and squeezed a huge dollop onto the palms of her hands. With a small cry, she slapped the canvas and dragged her hands across it.

“No!” The word erupted out of Rita.

Oh fuck…

We watched in horror as Thea smeared black paint across her beautiful cityscape. Once. Twice. Black swathes across the perfection of her Empire State Building and the pure blue sky.

Rita and I broke from our shock at the same time and rushed forward. Rita took the paint out of Thea’s hands, while I gently guided her a step back from the ruined canvas.

“Miss Hughes,” Rita said. “It’s okay. Oh, honey, it’s okay.”

You done fucked up now, you big dummy.

Thea was crying, her breath coming in silent, choked gasps. She stared in horror at her hands covered in black paint. Before we could stop her, she raised them to her face and dragged her palms down her cheeks.

“Jesus, honey, no,” Rita cried. She looked over at me fearfully, confused.

I could only shake my head, slack-jawed and my heart thumping in my ears.

I did this. I did this to her.

We took hold of her arms and started her away from the canvas. A voice rang out from the rec room door.

“My God…”

Delia was there with Alonzo, staring in horror. Alonzo’s dusky skin was paler than I’d ever seen it.

“Delia,” Thea cried. She went rigid in my hands as an absence seizure made her stiffen and tremble.