Page 52 of Notorious

She nods. “I can understand that it’s a lot to take in. But you don’t have to tackle it all at once. Just take it one step at a time. What do you think about checking in tonight? I’m concerned about your suicide plans, and I think the best choice for you and for your husband is to move forward with treatment right away.”

“Wait, you mean, like, right now? I’m not packed or anything. Well, I ain’t got that much stuff—” Panic starts to hit me, but at the same time I’m so numb it don’t really matter.

“You don’t need to pack. They’ll provide clothes and whatever else you need. You don’t have to bring anything with you.”

Going into a strange place with nothing is somehow more frightening than voluntarily selling all my worldly possessions. Because it’s just me and … that’s it. Not even Kurt.

Christian tilts her head, studying me. “I’ll call over to the hospital and see if they have a free bed. Hang on.” I’m boarding a train that’s already moving down the track, and I just found out there are no brakes. Kurt squeezes my hand, and I focus on that to try to calm down. Into her phone, Christian says, “Hello, this is Dr. Gray. I have a patient who’s interested in inpatient care for depression and suicidality. Do you have a free bed right now? Great. I’ll let them know. Thank you.” She hangs up. “Systems are go. So, what do you say?”

Shit damn fuck holy fuck what am I doin’ shit oh my Lord in heaven I ain’t got a clue.

“Check me into the mental institution,” I say, hoping I don’t come to regret that decision.

“Behavioral health hospital,” she corrects gently. “Kurt, if I give you the address, will you take him?”

Kurt nods. “Of course.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “You got this, babe.”

“Thanks,” I say gruffly.

“Wonderful. Then we don’t need to call emergency transport.” Christian gives me a reassuring smile. “This is the first step on your way to recovery, Johnny. I think you’re making the right choice, and I look forward to helping you as you progress on this path.” She stands up, and so do we.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, and realize I’m not wearing my hat. But I bow my head.

She smiles and shakes my hand. “You’re going to feel much better soon. I know it.”

Her confidence is heartening. Kurt hands her his credit card to pay for the session, which makes me feel all kinds of weird—I mentally add it to my tab—and once that’s taken care of, we’re on our way.

CHAPTER 18

Johnny

As we set out for the hospital, I’m bombarded with emotions and sensations, all of them contradictory. Calm panic. Intense numbness. Hopeful despair. I don’t understand how I can feel so many confusing things—and nothing—at once, but I do.

What’s going to happen? Is this going to work? It had better work. I can’t get worse.

But Christian was right: Making the decision to get better feels like a cornerstone to build my recovery on. I now have a goal.

I keep going back to that. Got nothin’ else to hang on to.

“Before …” Kurt clears his throat. “Yesterday, you promised me you’d stay alive for the day. Can you promise me you’ll stay alive until I see you again?”

Can I?

He’s looking straight ahead at the road.

My voice is gravelly when I say, “Yeah, I promise.”

Liar.

“Good. Spoiler: I’m going to keep asking you to make that promise.”

“Whatever it takes,” I say listlessly.

Kurt lets me pick the radio station, which I appreciate. He’s full of little kindnesses, and each one makes me like him more. He doesn’t say much else, and neither do I, choosing instead to look at the hills and the Pacific Ocean as we head north past Malibu.

After about a half hour, we turn off on a windy road and eventually reach the hospital, which is a series of 1960s institutional-style buildings up on a fenced-off bluff overlooking the water. Half a dozen deer loiter on the grass in front of the reception area, and huge oak trees bow near the dry sagebrush on the hills.

I step out and notice how quiet it is—and at the same time, it’s deafening. Another contradiction.

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