Island, and he just started laughing and saying for me to be quiet. That I didn’t know what I was talking about.” Kristen starts sobbing harder.

“Calm down. It’s okay, Kristen. Just calm down.” The words are empty, but Isabel does not know what else to say.

“Anyway—” Kristen takes a deep breath “—anyway, he told me to get out of the car, that the ride was over. He made me get out of the car at JFK!” Kristen dissolved into tears. “When I got out of the car I realized my shirt was on backward and two buttons on my jeans were undone. I turned around but he was gone.”

“Jesus. What’d you do?”

“I wandered around for a while, I don’t know how long. It was so scary. I haven’t been out of the hospital in a long time.” Isabel remembered her own confusion in Grand Central. “All the loud speaker announcements. It was frightening. Then some cop in the terminal came up and asked me if I needed directions. I must’ve looked lost or something.”

“Then what?”

“I started to tell him what happened and then I started crying so he took me to this customs room—some weird room with nothing in it but a table and two chairs. The light was really bright. That’s all I could think about, how bright the light was. Anyway, I started to tell him the whole story and he asked where the car had picked me up and when I told him he left a few seconds later to make a phone call.” Kristen is sobbing too hard to continue.

Isabel waits.

“The next thing I know a different cop, at least I think he was a different cop, came in and asked me to follow him and they put me in an ambulance. I hadn’t even finished the story yet!”

“But, Kristen, it’s good they took you to the hospital. You said yourself the guy was a bad guy. They wanted the doctor to check you out, make sure you’re okay. Maybe they think…well, maybe you were taken advantage of. Sexually assaulted…”

“Isabel, you aren’t hearing me!” Kristen raises her voice. “I’m not in a regular hospital! I’m at Bellevue. They took me here because I told them I’d come from Three Breezes.”

“Oh, my God.”

“Yeah. And I have no idea how I’m going to get out of here. They gave me some pill and made me swallow it. I have no idea what they made me take. They don’t believe me about the driver, either. I can tell. They think I made the whole thing up.”

“What about your brother? He lined that car company up—can’t he talk to the police? They can track down the driver through the company. They keep logs of who goes out on which pickup. In the meantime, can’t he get you out of there while they look into it?”

Kristen’s sobs turn into a hacking sort of laughter.

“What?” Isabel is bewildered. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Isabel,” Kristen sighs.

“What? Tell me what is so funny!”

“I didn’t think you bought it.”

Bought it? What do you mean?”

Kristen starts laughing again.

“Kristen, what? What’re you laughing about? Is it this story? Are you kidding about this story?”

“No, not this story.” Kristen is impatient. “The other one.”

“Kristen, what the hell is going on? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have a brother, Isabel!” she laughs triumphantly.

Kristen pauses to marvel at her own cleverness. “God. I thought you of all people would have figured it out, but I guess not. I guess I should thank you for cheering me up. I thought I’d never smile again after this whole disaster.”

There is silence between them while reality takes hold.

“How’d you get your day pass?” Isabel’s stomach lurches as she tries to piece together the puzzle. “Your doctors signed off on your pass—how’d you arrange that?”

“Listen, I don’t have time to go into all that right now. I’ll tell you later,” Kristen says, the smile in her voice gone. “You’ve got to help me. Please. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of here but I’ve got to.”

Oh, now I’m supposed to help you?

Kristen’s self-destruction simultaneously scares Isabel, sickens her and fills her with frustration. What frightens her the most about Kristen’s determination to ruin her own life is the realness of it. How long before I start to unravel? How long until I have a relapse?

After a moment Isabel decides to put some distance between her sick friend and herself. I am not like you. And I cannot save you.

“Kristen, even if I wanted to help you I don’t know how I could. Why don’t you call your doctor?”

“My doctor there, you mean?”

“Yes. Your doctor could talk to the people there and get you transferred back.”

“I don’t want to go back on medication, Isabel. I’m not going back on that stuff. It’s poison. They can’t make me start taking that again. Besides, I don’t need it anymore.”

“Are you listening to me? Call your doctor. You should be talking to your doctor, Kristen. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kristen takes several deep breaths. “Okay. I’ll call my doctor.”

“Good.”

“Thanks, Isabel.” Kristen sounds genuinely grateful.

Isabel hangs up the phone, leans back into the folding chair and closes her eyes.

“Isabel?” Ben is standing outside the phone booth.

“Yeah?” she answers as she stands and flattens herself against the door frame so that she can squeeze past him without coming into contact with his perpetually sweaty frame. She holds her breath against his smell.

“Sorry to bother you,” Ben says nervously, oblivious to Isabel’s attempts to circumvent his imposing body.

“Excuse me! I’m trying to get by here.”

“Oh, sorry.” He moves to the side.

“What is it?”

“Have I told you about Wellbutrin?” He smiles hopefully.

“Yes, Ben,” Isabel sighs, and walks away. “I believe you have.”

“It saved my life, Isabel. It’s that simple.” Ben follows Isabel down the hall. “I just can’t say enough about it. Wellbutrin. It’s amazing.”

“That’s great, Ben. Well, thanks for walking me back to my room. I’m going to be shutting the door now….”

“Wait! Isabel?”

“Bye, Ben.”

“Isabel!” Ben continues after the door shuts in his face. “I wish you’d just listen to me, Isabel. Why won’t anyone listen to me when I talk about Wellbutrin?” Ben knocks a few times and finally lumbers off.

Fifty-Seven

Hi, this is a message for Isabel. Isabel, this is Deborah in Ted Sargent’s office. Just wanted to let you know that we got your message and will plan on meeting on October 2. I’ll be in touch on the first to confirm. Until then, hope you’re feeling better. If you need to reach me I’m at extension 5421.”

“Isabel, hi, it’s me, Alex. Look, I’m sorry our conversation didn’t go very well. I still get so upset hearing your voice. Please call me back. I promise I won’t lose my temper again. I need to talk to you. I do love you, you know. Bye.”

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