“It’s not right.”
Tom heard his mom whisper to his dad. They were doing that thing where they think he can’t hear them just because they’re in the front seats of the car and he’s in the back, but of course, he could.
“I’m not saying it’s right,” his dad whispered back with tight lips, “I’m just saying it’s what we have to do.” He glanced up in the review mirror to check if Tom was looking.
He wasn’t.
Like the many trips before this, Tom pretended to zone out as he looked outside his window. While his sister did the same.
He watched as other cars whizzed by in the opposite direction. His focus falling on a raindrop’s journey down the glass every once in a while, silently rooting it on. Maybe this drop wouldn’t fall into the crack between the glass and door.
But, of course, it did. They all did.
“Yes, but- but--?” His mother let her sentence drift off.
His dad shifted side to side and sat up straight.
With that, his mom pulled down her visor mirror and turned her head side to side to assess the state of her makeup. With a quick tap of her ring finger under her eye followed by a deep sigh, she slammed the mirror shut and pushed the visor back into place. She looked out the window.
His sister grabbed his hand and squeezed. She was always there for him. They shared a smile.
Tom saw his dad take several succinct glances in the review mirror at him before clearing his throat.
“So, Sport, how are you feeling today?”
Tom returned to the window. Without taking his eyes off his chosen raindrop, he replied, “Good.” This one looked promising. The drop raced to the bottom, leaving a staggered trail behind. It slowed down at the edge. Tom raised his head. Maybe this would be the one--
The drop fell into the crack. Disappearing.
Where did they all go when they fell? Did all the fallen drops gather together at the bottom to create one super raindrop, or did they all lay there separately in the darkness, not knowing how they got there or how to leave? He wondered to himself, his head fell back into his hands.
As he went to search for the next raindrop, his sister tapped his shoulder. He looked at her to find her holding her lips together tightly. Her first together with pointer finger extending forward and scrunching backward repeatedly, trying to get him to look up.
He turned his attention past the raindrops and his eyes came into focus on an imposing building that they were pulling up to. Tom had to tilt his head sideways and press his forehead on the glass to read the big blue letters that poked out above from the structure’s beige walls.
St. John’s Psychiatric Hospital
Still pressed upon the glass, Tom could feel his forehead growing cold, sending a chill into his jaw bone. He wrinkled his forehead pressing deeper into the glass.
The car came to a stop. He peeled his forehead off the window, his hand rubbed the cold spot and his fingers fell upon his scar. Tom jumped.
“Okay, Sport, you ready?”
He always asked that, but Tom knew he didn’t really mean it as a real question. They were going, whether he was ready or not. His sister rolled her eyes.
His mom got out of the car, opened up his door and stood behind it. “Alrighty, let’s go.” She smiled.
Tom looked to his sister who nodded him forward, “I’ll be here when you’re done.”
He smiled sadly, “Okay.”
He wished she would go in with him, but she never went in. She said it made her sad. It made her remember that one day, and she didn’t want to be reminded of it.
“Remember to draw me a picture!” She shouted after him as he went through the automatic doors with his parents. He smiled back at her and waved.
His mom anxiously grabbed his hand and thrust it down as she shared a worried look to his dad.
They entered the waiting room.
“Ah, Mr. & Mrs. Gibbons. Dr. Totley will be with you shortly,” The nurse stood up, peered over the counter and smiled brightly, “Hi Tom. It’s good to see you today.”
His dad put a hand on Tom’s shoulder and hurriedly steered him to an empty row of chairs by the window.
Tom liked it when they chose to sit here, that way he could look over and see their parked car. Usually his sister would make funny faces to keep him entertained while he waited. Today was no different. She stuck out her tongue and scrunched up her nose. He screwed up his face and ballooned his cheeks in response.
He could see her cover her mouth as she laughed. This made him break out into laughter too. His mom touched his leg. Tom looked to his mom who smiled slightly, her eyes dewy. He took a deep breath and scooched back into his chair. Why did he always have to be so serious?
He glanced over at his sister as she breathed onto the car window, fogging it up and with her finger drew a smiley face. He smiled.
His mom shifted in her seat.
“Tom.”
His parents shot up out of their seats.
“Doctor—”
Seeing their anxious faces, Dr. Totley nodded his head sharply and led them back to his office.
Tom’s parents took their usual brace-for-impact positions as they sat in the two chairs across from his desk. His mom wrapped her coat further around her, clutching it tightly.
Tom liked to sit at the colorful plastic chair by the couch. He immediately picked up a red crayon that lay dormant on the kids table in front of him. His fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, picked at the edges of the worn table. Sharp miniscule plastic pieces shaved off.
He grabbed a piece of white paper from the bin on the floor and started to draw. What should he draw his sister this time? Last time he drew her a ladybug, she was obsessed with ladybugs, and the time before that he drew his bike—the one with the yellow and orange lightning bolts on it’s handles. He thought for a moment and then it came to him.
“It’s gotten worse, doctor.” He heard his mother say, she reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes.
They continued their conversation for a while, he thought he heard his dad say something about increasing his medication and treatment. Tom just kept on drawing his picture.
While he went to grab the blue crayon out of the plastic container that held the rest of the crayons that waited to be used for that day, he saw the doctor slide the plastic chair out from across him.
“Whatcha drawing today, Tom?” The doctor pulled at his slacks, scrunching the fabric up on his thighs as he sat down.
Tom didn’t look up, “Our house.”
The doctor titled his head to take a look, “Ah, I see. That’s the street?”
Tom nodded his head. He could feel the doctor examining his face.
“Hmm, and is that your parents out in the front yard?”
Tom pointed to each figure, “Mom. Dad.”
“Very nice. Now what are your mom and dad doing? Are those tears your drawing?”
Tom kept his blue crayon pressed upon the paper, drawing tiny oval shapes trailing under his parents’ eyes. He didn’t answer.
The doctor’s focus shifted toward the street again, “Now, is that you on your bicycle?”
Tom nodded.
“Are those race stripes on the front?”
“Lightning bolts,” Tom corrected.
“Ah, lightning bolts. That is very cool.” The doctor said with added enthusiasm. “And, who’s this?” He pointed to the ground. A peach colored figure laid on the street next to another bike.
“Anna.”
The doctor stayed silent this time and took in a deep sigh, “And where is Anna today?” The doctor looked up at his parents and held up a hand.
His mom who went to say something, closed her mouth.
“She’s in the car. She doesn’t like being in here.”
Dr. Totley nodded, “And why’s that?”
Tom picked up a green crayon, “she doesn’t like hospitals.”
Totley smiled, “Yes, hospitals can be quite sad,” He leaned forward, “Maybe one day she’ll come visit us though?”
Tom shook his head, “She won’t. Not after the accident.”
The doctor sat up a little, “Hmm, and is that what you’re drawing? The accident?”
Tom drew his brows together, “No. This is the day Anna and I captured our ladybug.” He pointed to a tiny red dot next to the peach figure on the street.
Tom’s dad stood up, “See? Doctor, he acts like it didn’t even happen.”
The doctor closed his eyes and nodded slightly. His dad sat back down.
The doctor smiled softly, “Tom, do you know what happened to your sister?”
Tom continued to color in the grass.
“Tom, Anna is no longer here.”
Tom picked up a black crayon.
“Tom, Anna died that day. She was hit by a car while trying to pick up a ladybug on the street. Do you remember that?”
Tom dotted the ladybug next to Anna and set down the crayon. He lifted up the picture to examine it in the light. She was gonna love it. As he set the drawing down something caught his eye outside the window.
Anna stood outside. Her closed fist slowly opened to reveal its contents. Inside on her palm lay a bright red ladybug.
Tom smiled.