Page 14 of Love Me Steadfast
“Take care, Charlie,” she says.
I head for the door.
Huffing a hard breath to draw my emotions back into their rightful place behind my breastbone, I continue to my car. But even when I’m back behind the wheel, the memories won’t stop playing.
Morgan and I are sitting in Sally’s study, our hands clasped in each other’s while Sally explains how everything will work. The rules. Our compensation. The consequences. It’s the best outcome for both of you. The leather couch is cool beneath my knees. Outside, a gentle wind makes the golden aspen leaves shimmer in the sunlight.
Sally exits the bagel shop, snapping me back to the present. She’s carrying a white paper bag like mine, and a coffee. She’s dressed for court in black slacks and a pale pink blouse, her blonde hair swept into a tidy twist.
I have no doubt she’s still as formidable as ever. And I’m grateful for what she did for Morgan and me. But seeing her…it makes those old wounds feel raw again.
During my drive to the hospital, I suck down my iced latte like it’s water, and take few bites of my bagel sandwich for good measure, even though my appetite has disappeared. Once I’m in the parking garage for Evergreen Hospital, I navigate to the second floor and the sky bridge. The lot is more than half full. I don’t know whether this makes me grateful that the patients inside have visitors, or sad that there are so many sick people. Maybe it’s both.
My phone chirps with an incoming text.
WREN
Hey girl, how was the drive?
I cradle my phone for a moment, trying to draw Wren’s warmth into my body. I’m already so tired and it’s not even nine o’clock. How am I going to get through weeks of this?
I type out my reply:
Not too bad. I’m about to see Mo
WREN
I’ve been keeping her in my thoughts
Want to grab a bite tomorrow? I’ll be in town late aft.
That she’s not holding my lackluster attempts at keeping in touch against me stings my chest, making it tough to draw in a full breath.
We settle on meeting at The Sweet Spot for a late lunch, then I stuff my phone into my purse and walk across the bridge. Inside the hospital is a welcome desk, but the mental health wing has a separate entrance, so I walk to the end of the spacious foyer and continue down a short hallway. At the end, there’s a sliding glass door with JACKSON BEHAVIORAL HEALTH in frosted white lettering. As it slides open, another piece of my heart cracks loose and falls into the abyss. I hoped I’d never see this place again. I’m sure Morgan feels the same way…and yet, it’s well-staffed and generously supported by the community, so it’s better than a lot of places she could be.
Inside, a young woman with a thin, dark ponytail wearing a white button-down shirt glances up from a computer terminal. The nametag clipped to her breast pocket says ALEX.
“I’m here to see Morgan Hannah,” I tell her.
Alex gives me a kind smile. “Do you have a profile with us already?”
“Yeah. I’m Charlotte Hannah.”
Alex is already typing, then nods at her screen. “We just need an updated consent form.” She slides a clipboard across the desk.
I tick off boxes. No, I will not bring anything that could be used as a weapon to the patient. No, I will not bring medications or drugs of any kind to the patient. No, I will not take photographs or video of any patient or of the facilities. Yes, I will be respectful of all staff members. When I slide the clipboard back, Alex taps a button and the printer spits out a stick-on visitor badge with my picture.
“I brought her a bagel sandwich. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Alex says.
A nurse in pink scrubs exits from the other side of the entryway just as I’m pressing the sticker nametag across my collarbone. She’s short, with curly, white-blonde hair. “I can take you back,” she says, tapping her badge to the sliding door leading into the facility.
The door slides shut behind us. I know that patients aren’t held here involuntarily, but it’s hard to not also feel like I’m walking into jail. Does Morgan feel that way too?
We enter a large communal space with a nurse’s station on the right, facing padded vinyl chairs arranged in clusters, tables with sturdy metal chairs, a big TV mounted on the wall and two sagging couches, a shelf of puzzles, games, and books. The big windows that make up the back wall overlook a verdant space of flowering shrubs and pretty trees to a parking area.
“Have a seat,” the nurse says, nodding to the rec room, occupied only by a mid-fifties man in conversation with a young couple and an early twenties woman typing at a computer terminal. “I’ll let Morgan know you’re here.”
