Though he cannot see her, she smiles into the phone.
“Oh, Dad—”
“Of course we can pick you up, honey,” Katherine says. “When?”
“Tomorrow. At ten. But if that’s not good for you it could be later, I suppose.”
“Tomorrow? So soon! It seems a little rushed,” Katherine says.
“Why are you leaving?” her father worriedly asks.
“It’s time, Dad.” Isabel has to sound sure of herself for her parents. She pictures Kristen’s wild-eyed return to Three Breezes, trapped between gurneys like a human burrito.
There is a slight pause while her parents struggle to decide whether to ask Isabel more questions or simply take their daughter’s word.
“We’ll be there,” her father says.
“Thanks,” Isabel says, hoping this time he means it.
Sixty-Eight
After calling her parents, Isabel’s outlook changes. Just as Clark Kent becomes superhuman inside a phone booth, Isabel begins to look at Three Breezes with a form of X-ray vision. With only twenty-four hours to go, she begins to say a mental goodbye.
Melanie is the first person Isabel encounters on her way back to the unit.
“Isabel, I was thinking,” she says with a look of intensity to which Isabel has become accustomed.
“Sure, Melanie. What’s up?” she says, slowing her pace but not stopping, which forces Melanie to walk alongside her.
“I don’t have time to beat around the bush so I’m going to cut to the chase. I need a new mattress. I’ve talked to them about it over and over and no one pays attention. If you would mention it, they’d listen.”
Isabel is filled with an odd feeling of warmth toward this strange woman who is so fixated on the injustice of having to sleep on an inferior mattress that she completely avoids any chance at self-examination.
“You know, Melanie—” Isabel tries not to smile “—I think this will all work itself out in the next twenty-four hours or so. In fact, I’m sure of it.”
Melanie’s eyes widen. Most everyone has ignored her mattress complaints. “What do you mean?” she asks as her eyes narrow into suspicion.
“I have an idea,” Isabel says as she leads Melanie out onto the smoker’s porch, as she had done with Regina. “If you sit with me while I have this cigarette, I’ll tell you my plan.”
Melanie cannot believe her luck. Here is somebody who not only cares enough about her sleeping situation to talk to her about it, she even has a plan! She leaves her suspicion behind and follows Isabel.
Isabel sucks fire out of the wall lighter and inhales smoke into her lungs.
“Here’s my idea,” she says, exhaling smoke to the side of Melanie. “What if I went to the nurses’ station tonight and told them that you could have my room starting tomorrow? You could even be all packed up and ready to move. I’ll tell them it’s a simple switch.”
“You would do that for me?” Melanie is incredulous.
“Sure. It’s no problem.” Isabel does not know why she does not tell Melanie that she is being discharged in the morning. She feels like being appreciated for what is perceived to be a selfless act of kindness.
“What’s in it for you?” Melanie’s eyes again convey her skepticism.
“What’s in it for me? Melanie. How cynical of you. Why does there have to be something in it for me? Can’t I just do something nice for a friend?”
Melanie begins chewing on the inside of her mouth while she considers the authenticity of Isabel’s offer.
“I don’t get it,” she says, her mouth twisted to the side as her teeth work on loose skin. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Let’s just say I like to leave kindness in my wake,” Isabel says, smiling.
“That makes no sense to me whatsoever, but I’ll take you up on your offer. You’ll really do it? You’ll talk to the nurses tonight?”
“Yes. I’ll talk to the nurses tonight.” Isabel knows Melanie will obsess over this until the morning but she does not care. She is not ready to tell everyone she is leaving. They will treat her differently once that knowledge is shared. It is too painful to watch others leave Three Breezes.
“It’s a deal.”
Isabel extends her hand for a shake, but Melanie scoffs and walks back to the unit sulkily.
“Hey, Isabel,” Ben calls out as he lumbers past her chair on the porch. He is scooping chocolate-swirl pudding from a cup that looks ridiculously small in his huge paw.
“Ben! Come sit with me.” Isabel signals to the empty chair opposite hers.
Ben looks surprised at Isabel’s hospitality. He eases himself into the plastic chair and scrapes the bottom of the pudding cup with his plastic spoon.
“What’s up?” he asks with his mouth full.
“I just wanted to talk with you,” Isabel says as she again exhales smoke. “We never get a chance to talk one-on-one, so I thought now is as good a time as any.”
Ben moves the last of the pudding around in his mouth and then hangs his head. “Aw, man! You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he directs his high-pitched whine to his lap.
“Why do you say that, Ben?” Isabel is stunned that he, of all people, has been perceptive enough to feel such a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
“I can tell. I can just tell. It’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it’s true. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m leaving in the morning. I was going to tell everyone tonight in Larry’s group. God! I’m amazed you figured it out.”
“It’s not that difficult, Isabel,” Ben says with an adult tone of condescension. “You never call me over to sit with you. You always did that with Kristen. Then I saw you do it with Regina the other day. And with Lark, too. You’d sit with Lark. But you always shoo me away. You never wanted to sit with me alone before today, so I figure you must be leaving. Why else would you want to sit with me?”
Isabel is silent for a moment. “You’re a very perceptive guy, you know that? You’re a smart, perceptive guy. I’m really sorry I never sat with you alone before.”
Ben blushes at Isabel’s words.
“It’s okay,” he mumbles, unable to meet her eye. “I know I’m not smart, but I appreciate you saying that.”
The same rush of warmth Isabel had felt with Melanie doubles with Ben.
“Ben, I want you to know something.” Ben looks at Isabel, noting the change in her voice. “Please listen to me because it’s important. I want you to know that you are a good person. Your mother saying all that bad stuff about you—she was wrong to say all that stuff, Ben. She had problems of her own and she took them out on you and you were a kid and that was just plain wrong. I know Larry says we’re not supposed to pass judgment on other people’s problems but I can’t help it in this case. You are a good person with a mental illness that’s not your fault.”
Ben is staring at Isabel with his mouth hanging open. Puddles of saliva are gathering dangerously close to the rim of his mouth. He is transfixed.
“I know I should mind my own business and I know you have a lot of other things to work on, blah, blah, blah. But I want you to know that you’re a good guy. Don’t let anyone ever tell you different. Not your teacher, not your mother, no one. And it sounds like you’ve struggled with a learning disability, from the things you’ve mentioned in group. That’s not your fault, either. You are a good person. If you believe that, you can do anything.”
Ben sucks up the spittle as he closes his mouth and looks back down. Then he says softly, “Wellbutrin. Wellbutrin has saved my life, Isabel.”
Knowing Ben will need time to digest what she has said, Isabel moves to a lighter topic.
“Ben, it occurred to me that I need to write down the name of that barbecue place you mentioned, in case I
