19. Lincoln
The frontof the rehab center has meticulously manicured hedges and flowers in front of a smaller stone welcome center. Not stopping at it, already knowing it’s closed, I continue down the drive to the much more grandiose main building. It’s a stone building, too, with large tan pillars holding up an outdoor patio area, a pool out back, and a large lit up fountain.
The main building is where the group sessions and classes are held. It has a gym for the residents and staff, a common area for study, and a game room for play.
Driving a little further, I make it to the long-term patient residential housing. As I do, I pull out my phone and give Becca a call. If they didn’t give her her phone back as soon as she was released from her psych hold, someone is getting fired.
“Hello?” she croaks out in a low voice, and I know someone is still getting fired. The defeated tone of her voice has my blood boiling. It hasn’t been like this for years. This place, for the most part, has been the best thing that has happened for her mental health.
“I’m outside, come let me in,” I tell her, and there’s a pause before she whispers, “Okay.” The line goes dead, and I park in one of the spots closest to her door. The residential living is setup like a college dorm room in the way that it’s a bunch of small apartments in one building, and you need a keycard to get into it.
It’s not top of the line security, but then again, they don’t really need SnowDen level shit when they already have another line of precautions to even get into the property.
The door swings open, and Becca’s blonde head pokes out. She took after our mom in that respect, where I took after my dad. She’s got mom’s small stature, blonde hair, and blue eyes. The only difference is that Becca is actually a good person. The best really.
Which is why her red-rimmed eyes, visible from even in my car, and the bags under them have me ready to punch something.
I hop out of my car, not bothering with my bag because she doesn’t have the space in her one bedroom to accommodate me. I”ll be getting a hotel nearby after I check in with her.
Becca holds the door open with one arm for me, and as soon as I step in, I sweep her into a hug. Her tiny body collapses into me and, right there in the hall, she sobs into my chest. I let her, holding her tight to me until her tears dry up.
When she pulls back, her red eyes peer up at me, and she whispers, “I didn’t hit anyone, Linc.”
I frown back. “I know that.”
There really was never a doubt in my mind, but my easy acceptance of her admission has her shoulders drooping in relief.
“Come on, let’s go talk,” I tell her, and nod to the stairs. Her apartment is on the second floor of the four floor building. But she nods and leads the way.
As soon as the door opens, I know immediately I was right about her mental health recently. If she were in a depressive episode or having a bad time of it lately, this place would be a mess. Dirty dishes would be littered around the room and piled high by the sink, clothes would be strewn everywhere, and there would even be a slight odor of a lived-in space that hasn’t been cleaned in a while.
But it’s not.
All the dishes are done, the counters are wiped down, and the floors look like they’ve been swept and mopped recently, too.
Now that I’m here, I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure she doesn’t slip into a major depressive episode a week and a half before I can bring her home.
We walk to the couch, and she sits down, pulls a big blanket around her shoulders, and brings her knees up to her chest to wrap herself inside its warmth. The couch sinks down as I sit on the other cushion, facing her.
Her eyes are guarded still, unsure how this conversation is about to go.
I start small. “Your birthday is next Thursday.” She nods. “You’ll be eighteen, and Mom and Dad can’t make you stay here any longer if you don’t want to. Do you want to come live with me still? Have you changed your mind?”
Her head shakes without any hesitation. “No, I still want to live with you.” She pauses. “I mean, if that’s okay.”
I roll my eyes at her. “Of course, it’s okay, goof. I wanted to give you the option, though. You’ll have access to your trust fund then, and we can always find you your own place if you want to live by yourself.”
She looks off to the side, eyes going unfocused, and seems to really think about both options before looking back at me. With a quiet tone, she admits, “I don’t think I’m ready to live by myself yet.” It sounds like a secret admission. But I would never judge her for wanting to be around other people. Needing that support.
“Good, I want you there,” I tell her honestly, and her eyes light up. My sister…
She may be eighteen soon, a legal adult, but she’s still just a kid.
“Okay.” She smiles for the first time since I got there, and I hate to have to dim it again. I must look as miserable as I feel about it because it falters before I utter one more word.
“I know, and I’m sorry. But last Thursday…Can you tell me what happened, Becca?”
“Nothing!” she exclaims emphatically, hiking up the blanket to burrow in deeper. “I swear. I was on my way back from group, and Nurse Ratched—no Linc, that’s really her name–” she rolls her eyes when I give her a look, “stops me in the hall. She started asking me why I wasn’t at dinner and giving me a hard time for no reason. I went to walk by her, and she bumped into me and started yelling for help. Two teachers came running by, and she screamed that I hit her. I tried to tell them I didn’t, but they wouldn’t listen. They just grabbed me hard enough to bruise and started dragging me away.”
“They bruised you?” I ask quietly, and I can feel a fucking storm brewing beneath my skin.
Becca opens the blanket to show me her upper arms, and sure enough, there are two bruises shaped like fingers stretched around both biceps. They’re yellow now, fading away, but seventy-two hours ago, they would have been blue and purple.
I take my phone out and snap a few pictures, sure I’ll need them later when I go after the two goons that manhandled her, and that lying bitch Nurse Ratched.
“Then what happened?” I urge her to continue.
“Then they took me to the hospital section and gave me a sedative or something because the next thing I know, it’s morning. When I woke up, they said I wasn’t allowed to leave until today and made me take those pills that make me feel drowsy.”
All of this is being stored away for later. I’m going to get Vince to look into this place and get the video footage of her altercation with the nurse. They’ve got cameras all over this place. For liability and safety.
Something she said makes me pause. “They didn’t call Mom or Dad?”
Becca shrugs. “If they did, it wasn’t around me.”
Something else to get Vince into. The video footage, phone records, and a Nurse Ratched background check.
“How are you now, though? They just let you out an hour ago?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yeah. I’m okay, I guess. Really ready to leave this place now, though.”
If I could take her out today, I would. Instead, I glance around her apartment. “Doesn’t look like you’re ready to leave. Why don’t we start packing up some of your stuff? We can leave the essentials, and I’ll load up as many boxes as I can into my car to take back with me.”
There’s that smile again. “Deal,” she grins. “How long are you staying?”
“I’m not sure. A few days at least. Me and the director have a few things to discuss this week.”
There is that nervous look again. That won’t do. “Why don’t we get some ice cream on the way to grabbing some boxes?”
She jumps up and tackles me in a hug. “I missed you,” she whispers, her voice wavering, and it chokes me up for a second.
I have to swallow the lump in my throat and clear it before answering. “Yeah, I missed you, too, kid.”