Her and I

It was a breezy autumn afternoon when I received the news. I wished it was raining, it should always rain on days like today.

A few feet away my children were fighting over who was throwing sand at whom. I wanted to yell at them to be quiet, didn’t they know there were much worse things to be upset about right now? I didn’t though. I just say there, silent. The wind hitting my tears sent chills through my body. Or maybe it was something else.

I never would have thought the news of Leia’s death would hit me this hard. After all, it’d been a good 15 years since we’d lost contact.

To say we’d gone our separate ways is a gross understatement. I married young to a good, Christian man and promptly popped out 2 beautiful children to whom I was a stay at home mom. Last I heard Leia had lost custody of her child for reasons I’m not clear on, drugs I think. Like mother, like daughter it would seem.

Unfortunately I can’t say I was surprised. Leia had always been tragic. Never mind we met because I tried to off myself with a pair of scissors, she was a whirlwind of chaos and sadness even after we got out of there.

I knew my life was way off track when I found myself hanging out in a place that didn’t condone shower curtains and confiscated shoelaces.

That’s when I first saw her, as I was trying to argue with the nurse doing my initial examination that I didn’t need a pregnancy or drug test. I explained there wasn’t a chance in hell either of those would come up positive as the closest thing I’d ever done to venture outside the confines of my strict religious upbringing was sneak a cigarette while cashiering at the local walmart. Well, and this of course
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I’d come to the conclusion I was most likely batting for the hetero team years ago when I first watched Home Improvement. I’d harbored a mild obsession with Jonathon Taylor Thomas ever since.

But Leia was the kind of girl who could make anyone question their sexual preferences. She wasn’t particularly pretty, yet most would call her beautiful. Her dark hair was long and unkempt; it seemed to fall in perfect waves down her back. Her eyes were a smoldering green, they gave off the kind of burn that if you could feel it, you would savor it. Her skin was slightly scarred from acne but her cheekbones were prominent and striking. And then there were her lips. Dear Lord, those lips. Too large for her face, they were the color of a soft pink rose and the center of attention when you first looked at her.

I found myself momentarily mesmerized by those lips as she walked, more like floated, by me, a serene smile on them as she listened to her Walkman.

She was tall and leggy, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and tiny pajama shorts. She was, in my young mind, the epitome of human perfection.

After the paperwork was finished, the pregnancy and drug tests administered, the drawstrings remove from my hoodie, and any shred of pride I had left destroyed by a strip search, the nurse escorted me to my bedroom.

She explained that right now was free time, most of the girls choose to spend it in the common room but it was up to me what I wanted to do. Lights out was in 25 minutes.

I found the bedroom eerie, like it held a multitude of secrets and the air was tainted by desolation.

I wasn’t ready to venture into the common room, so I stood in my doorway looking down the long hallway.

I lost myself, briefly recalling the events that had led me to this place.

In an instant she was there, relieving me from the uneasy feeling of panic beginning to wash over me.

“You look like a thug right now.” I was surprised by her observation. Looking down at my father’s sweater and my baggy sweatpants I got more of a “depressed teen with no self-esteem” vibe, but sure, we could go with thug.

I shrugged. She stared. Eye contact in general made me wildly uncomfortable, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers’. She leaned in until her face was inches away from mine.

“I’m Leia.” She spoke in a soft, husky voice.

I could feel every muscle in my body instantly tense. I hoped she couldn’t tell that I was forgetting to breathe.

She pulled away, “that’s Lee-ah, I’m not a character from Star Wars.”

Judging from the intensity with which she spoke I sensed that was not pronunciation mistake I wanted to make.

“Esther,” I said in reply. “And yes, I am a character from the Bible.”

She grinned. I melted.

Looking back, knowing now what I didn’t know then, I still believe it was fate that I was Leia’s new roommate. She was my saving grace in that place. She told me I was hers’, but I knew even then that I wasn’t.


“They do hourly checks throughout the night.” She informed me from her bed across the room, shortly after lights out.

Didn’t surprise me, I had half expected the nurse who turned off our light to plop down in a chair and monitor our sleeping habits.

“So…what’d ya do?”

I was silent for a moment. She might as well have asked what was wrong with me. 5 therapists, 7 different medications, and 3 years of cutting up my own arms and we still didn’t have an answer for that one. What did I do to end up here?

“I cut my wrists.” Which was true, I hadn’t exactly been aiming for death though. I kind of just wanted to see what would happen.

“Most of the girls are in here for that kind of thing. It’s that time of the year, everyone’s new year’s resolution was to kill themselves. Can I see them?” She pulled out a flashlight from her pillowcase and before I could answer she was kneeling next to my bed.

“Uhm...sure?” I pulled back my bandage.

“Wow, those are deep.” She sounded impressed. Apparently my blatant disregard for my skin and various veins earned her approval.

“Why are you here?”

She smiled devilishly. “I’m a child of the state, too crazy for foster care.”

She said it sarcastically but her eyes were clearly that of a child who it seemed somebody had forgotten to love.


There was an open doorway in the common room that led down a short hall way that ended in a door that looked like it belonged in the Terminator which led to some stairs going outside.

It was hidden enough to get a little privacy but not so much so that the nurses would come snooping around for you.

I sat there on the day of my release, invigorated, hopeful, and terrified.

“I like your pants,” said Leia, reaching out a hand to touch my brown plaid slacks. Tears welled up behind my eyelids. If I could have had anything right then it would be to stay in that moment forever, never having to face reality again, Leia’s hand on my leg. She was the closest I’d ever felt to home.

“So it looks like my mom officially lost custody of me yesterday.” She informed me, her voice robotic and callous. I wanted to tell her I already knew. I was there when she started throwing chairs at the social worker and the orderlies had to sedate her. But what does that really matter?

“Do you think you’ll be back here?”

“No,” I surprised even myself at the force behind my answer. “I’m never coming back. What about you?”

She looked away briefly, her lips pursed tightly together to keep the sobs from escaping.

“I think I’ll be coming back to this place for the rest of my life.”

She held my gaze, searching, memorizing. I knew she wasn’t talking about the hospital.

I ran my finger down her cheek, tracing the tear lines. Pulling her gently towards me I pressed my lips against hers. She responded with a tenderness she hid from the rest of the world, a tenderness I would never know again.

I wasn’t in love with her, but she goes down in my life's story as the closest thing to a soulmate I believe there could be. It was friendship in its purest form; raw, selfless, devoted, and desperate.