We Are Us ✔

15. The Other Me

Autumn has arrived. Despite the leaves changing to red and yellow shades, painting a mesmerizing mixture against the blue sky, the grass stays green.

With a nearly blank sketchbook on my lap, I pull my blanket closer to my torso when a nurse announces her arrival.

"Alright. It's time to get you back inside. It's getting cold here, and you've had enough sun for today," she says gently, adjusting my velvet blanket and unlocking my wheelchair. I clutch my drawing book when she starts pushing me to the building. "This is the last day you can stay outside and enjoy the blue sky. The weather won't be this friendly tomorrow."

Even though I rarely reply to the nurses, I listen to every word they say, and I suppose they are used to my silence. They must have applied for this job knowing that some patients don't talk, or don't want to talk.

"Have you drawn something today, Gretta? You haven't shown me anything."

I shake my head. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. You sketch when you feel like it. No need to feel sorry." We reach my room, and the door is already wide open to welcome me. "But you know that I'm a fan of your drawing. I still can't get over the flying angel you drew last week. It was such a masterpiece."

I force myself to smile and mumble, "Thank you."

My mind jumps back to a faceless angel that never leaves my thoughts. Some nights, I dreamed about it but it was different. It felt distant and foreign, causing me to wake up with disappointment in the morning. Sometimes its hair changed to a different shade and it had a face; a face I didn't recognize. Then I knew it was not the same angel I longed to meet again.

A knock on my open door pulls me out of my wandering mind. When I turn my head, a young nurse who just started a week ago is standing by the door.

"You have a visitor, Gretta," she says.

"Who is it?" the older nurse who is now adjusting my window blinds asks.

The young nurse glances at the piece of paper in her hand. "Mary Campbell."

The other nurse sighs. "Why do people always come at the last minute? What's wrong with being punctual these days?"

"I'll go meet her, if I'm allowed," I say.

"Yes, of course, dear."

The visitors' room is as plain as my room. Everything is painted white and blue, even the flower pattern on the floor tiles. At least it has windows that allow us to see colors from trees and the sky. Tables are arranged into two rows, reminding me of the church pews in my hometown, or the desks in my classroom back when I still attended school. Among the occupied tables, my eyes fall on the pale and skinny girl on the corner. She smiles at me awkwardly when our eyes meet.

"Hi," Mary says when the young nurse positions my wheelchair in front of her, an empty table between us.

"You're okay here?" asks the nurse. When I nod, she locks my wheel. "I will be back in five minutes or so. But Nurse Gwen is there by the door if you need anything."

Once the nurse is out of my sight, I avert my eyes to Mary. This is the third time she visited me since I was admitted to this psychiatric hospital two months ago, more than my own father did. He only sends Lydia every Friday to check on me, and to make sure I have everything I need. However, Mary never left the island. After the incident in her shed that morning, things began to unravel.

Father learned about his wife's evil plans for me, and he divorced her when she was still lying in a hospital, depending on the machine to live. Hilda got blacklisted from a business community and was asked to leave the island immediately. As a result, the Campbells were freed from fear and debt.