Page 12 of Counting On You

My curiosity is piqued. “What did you found out?”

“For starters, they’ve just reopened some of the historical centers,” she says with a soft smile, like that’s supposed to tell me something. “This place actually gets a lot of tourist attraction, but since there are going to be renovations in the next few weeks, the place will be closed to the public before summer, which is why they’ve turned one of the historical buildings into a temporary rehab center.” The words pour out of her like a waterfall. Jesus. She can talk fast without breathing. I can barely keep up with her.

“Good for us,” she continues. “I’ve always wanted to have a whole island to myself.” Her eyes light up.

I don’t think the renovations plan was included with the info leaflet they sent me as a means of making it look like I had a choice in coming here. And I sure didn’t take it upon myself to find out much about the place after the hearing.

My eyes narrow as I give her a critical glance. Her eyes are framed by heavy eyeliner. She’s wearing fake eyelashes. Her whole posture is relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who is about to enter this kind of facility. She’s styled as though she’s about to join a party. She wears expensive designer shoes. And isn’t she the one with tons of bags? The driver could barely cram them inside.

Maybe she’s one of the counselors?

“Are you about to start working here?” I ask, unable to control the sudden mistrust seeping into my voice.

“I wish.” She lets out a hearty laugh. “But no, I’m here to get therapy.” She eyes me, amused. “Like you.”

I cringe at the word.

She says it like it’s not a big deal.

I give a sigh, curiosity rising within me.

“You don’t seem too bothered by this,” I state. “What are you in here for?

“I came of my own free will.”

“Right.” It makes so much sense, and yet it doesn’t. “I didn’t know that was even possible.” I draw my eyebrows up in surprise, then give a short nod. “Well, good for you. So, you can leave anytime, right?”

“Yeah, but who would do that?”

“Yeah, who would do that?” I make a face. How anyone could choose to stay of their own will is beyond me.

“Do you know where you’ll be placed?”

“No idea. And right now, I’m not sure I want to know.” I shrug and turn my head back to the window, eyeing the unknown territory and ignoring the pangs of desperation washing over me.

I wish they had let me keep my phone.

The very phone I had to hand in before we boarded the bus from New York to North Carolina. The only thing that would have kept me connected to the world, my real world. Now it’s gone, a figment of my past. Gone along with pictures of Bruce. His texts. The possibility of checking his updates on Facebook to see if he’s online and what he’s up to.

Bruce.

My heart slams against my ribcage.

If only I could get in touch with him.

Oh, wait.

A thought hits me.

If Sylvie can leave anytime, maybe she’ll send a secret message to Bruce for me. Maybe she’ll become a sort of messenger. I’ll ask for nothing major. Just to know if he’s okay and that he’s received the long text I sent right before they confiscated my phone.

The thought makes me giddy with excitement.

“Sylvie, right?” I ask to be sure I got the name right, which earns me a small nod. “You said you could leave anytime?”

“Yeah,” she replies and adds quickly, “I hope they’ll place us together in the same group so we can support each other.”

“That would be great,” I say with a sudden rush of excitement. “It would be a lot of fun if we could get to know this place together and help each other out.”

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