Page 125 of Fade into You
I hear her hitting random buttons on Dad’s cell. I roll my eyes and wait for him to inevitably take the phone from her and switch it over to speaker.
“Hey, Jessa, we’re both on now,” Dad says. His usual cooltone is not there, and I’m not sure if those are tears in his voice. “Are you okay?”
“Hey, yeah, I’m okay. I’m gonna spend the night with Bird.”
“Sure, hon, but there was a lot of blood in the house, and Mack was—”
“How is Mack?” I divert the question and look down to the wicker bench outside the brownstone.
“She’s stabilized, she’s okay, she was actually scared about you when they let us speak with her. What happened?”
“I grabbed the knife before she got to her arm this time. Unfortunately, grabbed the wrong end.” I let out a pathetic laugh for my pathetic joke. This isn’t funny. I was seconds away. She could have died. She could have fought me and I could have gotten hurt worse. What I’ve got hurts like a real sonofabitch and might need stitches, since it’s oozing through the bandages Bird gave me.
“Jessamine, are you really okay?” My mom is either laying it on thick, or she actually cares. I mean, if they spoke with Mack at the hospital where people could see… they’re more out there than in the past.
“No, Mom. None of this has been okay. Mack is really sick. We have to talk about that.”
“We can definitely—”
“Now. We have to talk now, because otherwise we’re just gonna go back to our pattern of ignoring how bad it is, and I don’t want to come home too late or any of the other nine million nightmares I have about how she dies from this.”
There’s a long pause. I can hear breathing, so they didn’t hangup. Probably sharing a look with each other before telling me this is “adult stuff.” Fuck this shit.
I’m about to hang up when Dad chimes in. “You’re right, Jessa. She is really sick and we have been minimizing it. There’s a lot of things people say and do around mental illness, and I guess we were trying to protect you and ourselves from it, and Mack has been paying the price.”
Unexpected. Even more so that Mom doesn’t contradict him.
“We talked with her, Jessa,” Mom says. “We’re going to get her specialty care. The place she told you about. She may not be home for a few months, but we can go visit her after the first couple weeks.”
I don’t know what to say because they’ve never listened this well, to me or Mack. Maybe they were protecting us or maybe they were ashamed, but all that is nothing. This, here. Them saying they’ll get her what she needs. It’s hopeful. It’s healthy in a weird way. Maybe I can live with that.
“That’s… that’s really good. That’s a great decision.”
There’s an awkward silence. But then I realize something I need from them. I need it for myself. To be okay.
“One more thing…”
“Of course,” Dad says.
“I want to start seeing a therapist too.”
“Are you sure, Jessa?” Mom, of course, the doubting Thomas.
“I’ve been scared for a long time that I’ve got what Mack has. And honestly, I think it might help all of us to see someone together, too, but I want to find out if I am bipolar, and start learning how to live with it before it gets as hard as it is for Mack.”
Another pause. Big ask. They’re gonna say no.
“Okay,” Mom agrees. “We’ll do it. Anything to keep you girls safe.”
I’m surprised that there are tears running down my face. Relieved, definitely. Fear and years of holding back, letting go in a quiet, cold stream. Running the final remains of my heinous eyeliner job down my cheeks, turning icy cold in the winter air.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really needed that.”
“When will you be home, Jessa?” Dad, getting to the important facts.
“Sometime tomorrow afternoon. As long as Y2K doesn’t end us all.”
“I think we’re safe. At least at home will be safe.” He means all our home computers will remain working, but I’d like to think home will be safe too.
