Heart's Devotion

about 1,300 words

It was so unfair. The phone lady stared at me.

“If you keep slamming the phone like that I’ll get your phone privileges cut.” She had short white and black curled hair, flat eyes set back in her head, a shriveled face and a hooked nose.

“I hate you too!” I screamed. She shrugged and pressed a button. Two large men emerged from the pink door.

“Come on Missy, it’s someone else’s turn.” I glared at them, but I didn’t say anything. It was bad to fight with them. They were like thugs. If they had an opportunity, any chance at all, they’d break your arm, or your leg, or your whole body. I followed them into the hall. My cat was the only one who loved me. I missed him. They led me down the pink walled, white tiled halls, to one of the many pink doors.

“There ya are, home sweet home.” The room behind that door wasn’t my home. I opened it up and went inside anyhow. Pink is supposed to be a calming color. Everything there was pink. I felt sorry for the boys. Every once in a while I wondered how long I’d been there. I didn’t belong there. In the room I sat down on the pink sheets and stared at the pink wall.

“How’s this supposed to help?” I asked no one in particular. No one answered me. That was how I knew I wasn’t really crazy. They say you aren’t crazy for talking to yourself. You don’t have to worry until someone talks back. That was how I knew I didn’t belong there. I contemplated that until my door opened all on its own.

“Kristen, it’s lunch time,” the happy lady told me. I didn’t know her real name, but I thought of her as the happy lady because she was always smiling. I followed her down to the lunch room. All of the crazies were there. I sat in my usual spot next to Linda. Linda was thin like a board with long straight black hair. They’d almost cut her hair because they thought she might use it to try to strangle herself. As it was this one kid had wrapped his neck in it one day and tried to knot it. Luckily the happy lady had stopped him before it became a big deal.

“I have a new plan.” Linda always had a plan to get out of the place. So far none of them had worked.

“Great, when do we try it?” Linda didn’t belong there either. Neither of us were crazy, we were just suicidal. Our parents didn’t want to deal with it, that was why we were there.

“It’s perfect. It’s a no fail plan. We’re going home.” She’d never seemed so certain before.

“How?”

*

My mother picked me up two weeks later, smiling.

“Kristen, I’m so glad you’re better.” I gave her a hug, even though inside I still hated her. The plan was still in action. I wouldn’t feel safe until I was hugging my cat in my own room, my real room in my real home.

“Me too mom,” I walked to the car with her. “How’s Smokey? Is he waiting for me?”

“I told him you were coming home today. I know he’ll be happy to see you.” Mom turned into the street from the parking lot. My heart was dancing inside me. Linda had been right. The two of us were going to make it out. She’d found the way.

“Mom,” I watched her as she drove. I hated her for putting me in that place. The problem was, she could put me there again.

“What is it dear?”

“Don’t ever make me go back.” She didn’t say anything. “I won’t try to kill myself again,” I told her, “so please never send me back.” She smiled but continued to focus on the road.

“It wasn’t up to me. The doctor made the decision.” That was a lie. I knew it was her. When we got home I went straight in. The doorknob felt like home.

Smokey ran up to me, he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I picked him up and held him, burying my face in his warm, soft grey fur.

‘I’m home Smokey, I’m home. I’ll never try to kill myself again. Next time I’ll either kill myself or I won’t, but I’ll never just try.’ I held him while I thought this. This was my decision. I was never, ever, ever going back.

*

I’d been back from the hospital for a month, but I still smelled its sterile halls. The color pink made my stomach clench. Smokey tried to comfort me. He followed me from room to room, curled up with me every night and perched on my lap whenever I sat down. I didn’t know why the hospital wouldn’t let me go.

Linda’s plan had been flawless. We’d miraculously cured ourselves by lying to our counselors. Linda surmised that they had no way to tell what was really going through our heads. All we had to do was say killing yourself was stupid and that we really regretted trying to do it and couldn’t imagine ever doing it again. Then we spent the rest of the time talking about what we wanted to do when we left.

The problem was I’d done all of the things I’d wanted to do. I was still glad I was out, but all of the things that had made me want to die were slowly creeping in on me. Mom still didn’t love me. She was still out all the time. She was still dating that scum ball Dave. My grades were still terrible. Actually, they were worse than ever. No one in school liked me. Nothing had changed.

“I’m sorry Smokey, you’re still the only one who loves me.” I picked Smokey up and he purred in my ear. I listened to him purring for a long time. I’d never realized before what a relaxing sound purring was. As I listened to him I remembered a poem I’d read in school. It was written by a famous poet named Robert Frost. I think one of the reasons I’d liked it so well was how short it was. I still remembered it. It was called "Devotion". I whispered it to Smokey.

“The heart can think of no devotion, greater than being shore to the ocean, holding the curve of one position, counting an endless repetition.” I thought about it as he continued to purr. Was that what love was like? Was love an endless devotion to be, as the world hit against you again and again? Could I live that way? Would it be enough to devote myself to be the shore to someone’s ocean?

I laughed softly and Smokey stopped purring and started wiggling in my arms.

“All right, all right,” I set him on the ground and he began weaving between my ankles. For now I thought life might be okay even if Smokey was the only one who loved me. If love was the heart's devotion, then it required more strength than I’d thought. Maybe I needed to learn more about love before I expected other people to love me. If I loved mom, maybe she’d really love me someday. Even if she didn’t, there had to be someone out there, someone human, who would love me someday.

I sighed and went to my bedroom where I kept my books. Somewhere in there I had a huge book of poetry. I used to love poetry. Why had I stopped reading it? I couldn’t remember. I decided to change that, beginning right in that moment, on that very day.