30—BREAKING
“We can stop there for today.”
I look at Dr. Rutledge. My pulse hammers against my skin. My voice is starting to shake as I further explain my story.
Instead of asking me questions, Dr. Rutledge doesn’t say a thing. She sits back in her chair, her pen tapping against her notebook.
She sits up straight and laces her fingers together. “You know what I think?”
“What?” I ask wearily.
“I think you should take a weekend pass.”
“A weekend pass,” I repeat.
“I know these sessions have been wearing you down, but you’re making significant improvement. I think a weekend pass would be beneficial for you.”
When Lachlan first mentioned the idea of a weekend pass, I didn’t store too much faith in the idea. And when I broke down in group therapy, I thought my chances of ever having my freedom had disintegrated into thin air. But, here I am, given a chance to have my freedom. Even if it does have an expiration date.
I stare at her skeptically. It feels like there’s a catch that comes along with this opportunity.
“Would you like that?”
I nod. “Y-yes!” I stutter.
“If you don’t think you’re ready for it, you don’t have to take it.”
“I am,” I say quickly. “I am. I’m just skeptical.”
“There’s nothing to be skeptical about. Everyone needs a break.” She shrugs. “This is your break.”
I exhale loudly. “I’ll do it.”
“Great!” she says triumphantly as she stands up. “Mary will help you pack your bag tomorrow and you can be on your way.”
One small, but very important factor, finally hit me. “Who’s picking me up?” I ask.
“Lachlan.”
My fears slam into me swiftly. I can picture Dr. Rutledge talking to Lachlan, telling him that I truly am insane and that I will never get out of this place. Even though Dr. Rutledge has proven herself to me, it doesn’t matter when old insecurities never die.
I think she sees the fear in my eyes. She lays a hand on my shoulder and looks at me with concern.
“I’ve spoken to him once,” she says gently. “He spoke to me last week about a weekend pass, and that’s it. You have nothing to worry about.”
I swallow. “Thanks,” I whisper.
“Now,” she grins, “get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”
31—MATCHES
The next evening, I’m walking down the hall with my overnight bag in hand. Mary is right next to me; Lachlan is in front of me. His back is facing me and he’s talking to Dr. Rutledge.
I revert back to teenage Naomi. The one that turns red around him. Whose lips split into a ridiculously bright smile while her heart flips wildly in her chest.
Dr. Rutledge looks over Lachlan’s shoulder at me. Her brows lift and she smiles. “Good morning, Naomi.”
Lachlan turns and looks at me. He gives me a one-sided grin. I think my heart just dropped down to my stomach.
He’s dressed in a simple pair of jeans, dark blue shirt and a brown jacket. He looks so relaxed and at ease. He’s never looked sexier. “Look at you,” he says and reaches to take my bag.
“I know. Can you believe it?” I lift up my foot. “I have laces on my shoes.”
Mary actually laughs. Holy shit. Who knew she had a drop of humor inside of her. But in all seriousness, putting on clothes—that weren’t sweats—and wearing shoes, makes me feel as if a piece of myself is clicking right back into place.
Lachlan’s grin stays in place as his eyes sweep me from head to toe. There’s a heavy sense of anticipation in my stomach because the minute we walked out the front doors he would be all mine. There would be no nurses checking up on us, or telling him that it was time to go.
I pull my eyes away from him and glance at Dr. Rutledge. “Am I good to go?”
She holds a clipboard between us. “You just have to sign off on a few papers.” She puts it on the counter next to me and hands me a pen.
I scan the contents on the page quickly. It’s basically a sign out form saying that I, as the patient, or the guardian of the patient, understand what a weekend pass entails.
I glance at Dr. Rutledge. “I don’t need my parents’ signature?”
She clears her throat and looks over my shoulder at the paperwork. “No. It’s a weekend pass,” she says quietly. “I just need your signature.”
I wasn’t going to challenge her. I quickly scribble my name on the bottom of the paper and step back. I shift my feet and stare at Dr. Rutledge.
“That’s it,” she says happily. “Have a fun weekend, Naomi.” Lachlan and I walk out the door. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. I scan the cars in the parking lot. There are high piles of snow in the corner of the parking lot from the snowplow. Salt is peppered along the sidewalk to prevent falling. And I’m glad, because today I’m so excited and anxious to get out of here I would’ve run ahead to Lachlan’s car and busted my ass.
I put one foot in front of the other, reminding myself that I need to look like a normal person. One that walks outside and interacts with people in the real world daily. I look over at Lachlan. His walk is confident. Shoulders straight. Chin slightly lifted, daring anyone to step in his way.
When I get into his car I breathe into my hands as we wait for the car to warm up. Lachlan places a warm hand on my thigh and smiles at me. “Are you ready?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good,” he says and pulls out of the parking spot. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
He pulls out onto the road and presses the gas.
The temptation to turn in my seat and wave at Fairfax is strong, but if I do, my gaze will wander to the ghost of myself staring longingly outside, putting another tally on the window. So I stare straight ahead as the dry, frozen over grass flies past us.
“You might as well relax; it’s a two-hour drive to my house,” Lachlan says.
“How do you expect me to relax?” I wave my hand around. “I haven’t been in a car in months. I need to take everything in! Today’s been pure torture. I sat in the rec room the whole day, staring at the clock.”
“If it makes you feel any better, there’s a pile of paperwork on my desk because I couldn’t concentrate. I ended up leaving work an hour early.” Lachlan gives me such a raw, personal smile, I almost clutch my chest in pain. “But if you want to keep looking around, then by all means… don’t let me interrupt.”
“Nah.” I shift in my seat. “Tell me about your house.”
“What do you want to know?”
“What’s it like?”
He shrugs. “It’s a house.”
“Come on,” I coax. “Give me your best description.”
“It’s small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom. There’s a small kitchen and living room. The carpet is outdated, along with the appliances, but I like it.”
“Did you decorate?”
He gives me a look that says, ‘What do you think?’
I grin and watch as dusk paints the sky.
We take the highway, bypassing McLean. I watch my hometown fly past me from my window and it looks like a blur of lights. I should probably feel some pull to the town I grew up in, but I don’t. The only pull that I have is the memories with Lana. Those memories tug at my heart, screaming at me that Lana is out there. Maybe not in McLean, but somewhere close.
We turn here and there and the two-hour drive flies by and soon we’re driving into the outskirts of Charlottesville. We stop by a fast food restaurant and order greasy food that makes my stomach rumble.
“We’re almost there,” Lachlan says.
“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m having fun.”
“Just sitting in a car?”
I shrug and sneak a few French fries. “I’m getting a glimpse at your new life in this town.”