Page 4 of In a Haze

After I sit at a table closer to the back, I take a sip of the apple juice. I find it comforting that it tastes exactly the way I expect it to. Same with the sausage. I’m taking a bite out of the wedge of watermelon when the guy who’d talked to me when I first got to the dining area sits next to me. I’m kind of thrilled that, of all the females in this place, he’s chosen to sit by me. What makes me so special?

He asks, “So you did it again, Anna?”

“Did what?”

He looks around to make sure there’s no one close to us, and then he lowers his voice. “Stop taking your meds like we talked about.”

“I have no idea.” His eyes scan mine but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he cuts a bite of the short stack on his plate with his fork as I continue. “What’s your name?”

“Joe.” He chews on the bite of pancakes as I take another sip of juice. After swallowing, he says, “I’m no expert, Anna, but I know you’re gonna start feeling better now.”

“How can you be so sure?” I’m feeling so out of sorts, so confused I can’t imagine ever feeling better again.

“Well, for starters, you’ve talked to me more this morning than you have this whole time.”

It occurs to me then that he might be able to tell me something about myself. “How long have I been here?”

“Two years, I think, but it’s hard to keep track.”

“What about you?”

“A long damn time. I don’t even know for sure.”

I have so many questions, like what’s wrong with me, but I don’t know that he’ll be able to answer any of them. At least he’s already helped me feel a little more grounded.

And special.

His full lips curve into an easy smile that reaches his sapphire eyes, making me feel warmer than I have since I first woke up. Somehow, I feel as though I can trust him completely—so I’m going to ask another question. “Thisisan insane asylum, right?”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “They wouldn’t like hearing you call it that. I believe the term they use ismental health instituteorbehavioral health center. Depends on who you’re talking to.”

“Same thing.” I pick up my glass of juice. “I don’t suppose you know what I’m here for.”

He shakes his head, pausing to stroke the short stubble on his chin. I want to ask him whathe’shere for, but that seems a little too forward. Even though he’s known me for a couple of years, I feel like we just met.

And I’m a bit enrapt at the moment. I doubt there’s a better looking male anywhere on the planet—not that I’d be able to see him. This man, he’s like a beacon in the middle of a sea of darkness. He’s warm and kind and he has me intrigued.

As we eat our food in silence, I prick my ears up, listening to some of the other people here. Some of them sound so sad. Others sound completely crazy. And it makes me wonder: AmIinsane? Did I lose my mind and, unable to cope with reality, someone put me here to be safe?

Or am I all alone in this world?

When Joe looks at me over his cup of coffee, the twinkle in his eye reassures me I have him if no one else.

I amnotalone.

*

After breakfast, Joe and I have made our way to the living area, not to be confused with the rec room. All of this is new to me, so I’m taking it all in. Right now, I don’t know if I’m happy or distraught that I’m in a place like this. It would help if I knew why I was here.

If I knew who I truly was.

But agonizing over it isn’t going to make it all known to me. Fortunately, Joe feels like an old sweater—warm, soft, and comforting—and I feel lucky that he’s my friend.

We’re sitting by the windows. The view here is similar to the one from my room, except the window’s overlooking a one-way street. This road, too, has three lanes, but the traffic seems to be a little calmer now, less bumper-to-bumper. There’s another park-like area just past the road, but I know for certain we’re in a big city. I see some skyscrapers off in the distance, confirming that thought. The TV at the other end of the room, hanging on the wall, is playing an old movie. It’s turned up a little too loud but at least it affords Joe and me as much privacy as we’re likely to get in a place like this.

I ask him, “You said you and I agreed to stop taking our meds?”

“Well, yeah. But, honestly, it was my idea and I talked you into it.”

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