September 28th, 2014

I arrive at my father’s prison and wait for him to come see me. It’s been a year since I have and I thought I was for the better. I sit down on the chair they tell me to and I’m surrounded by people talking to inmates through those phones and glass I always see in the movies.

I haven’t told anyone I’m here. I know Virginia and Fonseca would stop the world just to stop me from coming here. Even if Virginia couldn’t I can’t imagine what she would do. She would probably forbid me then yell at me before trying to kick me out or something. There’s always that looming threat that I could be kicked out at any moment. Fonseca would probably just ask me an endless question of why I want to do this or probably pull some strings so this encounter couldn’t happen. I wonder what would have happened if I told Grace. She’d probably cry and beg me not to go. Hell, I haven’t even told Cody. I should have told him, he would have gone with.

The cold chair isn’t even comfortable but I suppose a prison isn't supposed to be comfortable in the first place. It’s not comfortable either when I see my father again after a year. He sits down and I do nothing but stare at him while he picks up the phone. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still has the same old gray beard and his mean brown eyes that seem sad to me right now.

I feel nothing.

I can’t decide if this is a good or bad thing.

He doesn’t even feel like my father anymore, just someone named Bill.

I pick up the phone, “Hi, Sara,” is the first thing he says.

I don’t say anything but not for the lack of trying. I’m just trying to find the right words. I want to yell at him, I want to cry, I want to talk to him like a normal human being and I don’t want to say anything at all. “Hi,” is all I can manage to actually say.”

“You look well. I didn’t expect you to come today, or ever.”’

“I didn’t either.”

“Why did you?”

“I don’t know,” I lie. “I wanted to ask you about Mom.”

Bill doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. “What about,” His voice is withered.

“I don’t remember her much, how was she like?”

“Angelica was kind, smart and stubborn,” Bill chuckles. He still loves her. “You look a lot like her, Sara. She the light of my world. When she died I just went crazy. I’m so sorry, Sa-”

“She was a mess as well, wasn’t she? She was never truly happy.”

Bill nods, “I did the best I could, it just wasn’t enough. You kids weren’t enough. She loved you both to death, I know that for a fact.”

“Then why was she such a bitch to us?”

Bill gulps down and sighs like he’s terrified to speak about this. I wonder if he was anywhere else, would he be able to talk about this? “It happened about two years before her death. I don’t why but she started to drink and stop eating. She lost a lot of weight over those two years. She was hungry all the time and whenever she was hungry she would smoke a cigarette.”

“What?!”

“You don’t remember? You would always have a pack of cigarettes for her whenever she needed one. You always wanted to try to make her happy because when she was she gave you the world.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

“I tried.”

“You do an awful lot of trying.”

Bill’s eyes look down. “It’s my fault that she died. I went out for a few drinks with my friends that night and she asked me not to. Angelica didn’t want to be alone with you two. I thought one night would be fine. I’m so sorry.”

I let the telephone drop slightly. Bill is a monster. No, life is a monster. Life is so fucking unfair that I can’t even begin to hate it. I want to, but I can’t. “You’re so fucked up.”

“I know,” I hear nothing but regret in his words.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

“Tell me more about Mom. How did you two meet?”

“We shared a class together in Phoenix during college. I knew the second I laid eyes on her I knew that she was something I shouldn’t just let walk by. She hated my guts at first but eventually softened up after all the times we ran into each other at parties. We started dating our senior year and got married three years later.”

“Then what happened?”

“Everything was peachy. It was the best ten years of my life, a decade of nothing but living my dream. I think it was three or fours years into our marriage that I started to notice your mother’s depression. She said she wanted to move to Washington but we couldn’t decide where. In the end, we just got a map and threw a dart. That’s how we ended up in Darkwood. I thought it would make your mom happy, but it never did. She just got worse. Then we had you two and that problem faded away for six years.”

“What kind of stuff did she like?”

“Angelica loved Jazz. Oscar Peterson was her favorite. I don’t think there wasn’t a night that she didn’t play a song by him. She loved art and was an amazing painter, but you already know that. When we first started to date I remember her dorm room filled with movies posters most which I never have seen. She had this obsession with filmmaking and if it wasn’t for her major she chose I think she would have pursued that. Angelica was just so creative and free while I was just the opposite.”

“Why did she do it? Why did she have to do in front of me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“How’s Andrew?”

“Fine.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Are you in College now?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s taking care of you or are you two on your own?”

“Listen, I gotta go,” I stand up but I don’t actually drop the phone from my ear.

“I’m just glad you’re here. Goodbye, Sara.”

I lock the phone in place and storm out before I let him do anything else. I leave the prison as fast as I can because I don’t think I can hold myself together.

I hate him. I hate him but there’s something about his word sounding so broken that breaks something inside me. It’s painful to hear and I couldn’t handle it. I shouldn’t even be fucking crying right now but I’m bawling like a little kid who broke a bone. It can’t be a mistake coming here. As much as it hurts I know I needed this because I know now where everything is standing.

Of course, I don’t tell Fonseca any of this during our sessions today.

Fonseca laughs, “That’s good to here. You a lot lighter today, did something happened?”

“Hmm?”

“More cheerful than usual.”

“Oh,” I pause. “Nothing at all,” I lie. After all, it took me hours just stop myself from crying. When I finally did the shadows that loomed over me seemed lighter than usual.

“Well I guess that’s natural,” Fonseca writes something on her Ipad. What I said wasn’t even anything bad at all, I don’t know why she’s writing anything down. Maybe it is actually noted and not what I originally thought. “Anything else interesting happens?”

“Grace and I got in a fight a few days ago.”

“Oh?”

“I found her using cocaine again and tried to stop her.”

“I still think you should take my advice and tell Virginia, but carry on with telling me.”

“She called me a hypocrite, y’know because I used to do it at her age. Like yeah, I get it but she doesn’t have to follow down anyone’s footsteps. She even had the nerve to say that the prescription pills are the same thing like I abuse them.”

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong. When people abuse prescription medication it essentially becomes any other drug. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing, even water.”

“How can too much water be bad for you?”

“If you drink enough in a short enough amount of time, you can drown.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Wait, how does that work?”

“It’s called Hyponatremia. It’s when you drink much faster than your kidney can process. It makes all the excess water go into your cells causing them to swell up, including the ones in your brain. It’s extremely rare and nobody should ever worry about it.”

“Why would anybody do that?”

“Why would anyone abuse prescription drugs? There are people out there that just can’t get enough water. It’s a hard comparison to make but it applies nonetheless.”

“But if you don’t abuse them, it’s not the same.”

“There are people out there who would argue that. Caffeine is a drug and half the world is hooked on it. Alcohol is a destructive drug and nobody seems to mind. Any medication is usually a drug. This world is run by drugs and some people don’t like that.”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s a necessary evil. Prescription medication helps more people than it hurts, or at least I hope.”

I sit on her words. Grace is right. I’ve moved on from feel-good drugs to numbing drugs. I am a hypocrite. But this is good. This is what I needed, this is how I can move forward. If it’s a cycle I can’t escape at least it’s one I can recognize.

I choose not to tell this to Fonseca. It came to my attention through this self-reflection today that Fonseca isn’t any help in my Mental Health. It’s been a year now and I haven’t improved. I improved the most when I was alone with my own thoughts and through my friends and family. The only one who can save me is myself. This is the only one who can bring me back trough the brink. I had to lose my mind so I can find it.

And now that I think that I found It I realize that I haven’t lost it at all.

“So if it has to be a necessary evil, can the opposite be true?” I say thinking of my everything that’s been going on lately.

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Necessary good for evil things. Like doing a good thing in order to have a selfish outcome, I think.”

“It doesn’t really make sense that way. You can’t have a good thing that is necessary in order for bad things to happen. At least none that I can’t think of.”

I can. Freyja leaving was something good for her that had an ill effect on me.

I chuckle, “I guess so.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know”

“What happened today, Sara?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re hiding something from me and won’t tell me why you’re in a much better mood.”

“I can’t be in a good mood once in a while?” I scoff.

Fonseca shakes her head, “I suppose you can. I still think you’re hiding something from me though.”

“Even if I am, I don’t think I’ll tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe it’s a necessary evil.”

Fonseca chuckles. I’m not saying I don’t need her anymore but I think I’m realizing the importance of thought for myself. I think I came to this conclusion when I talked to my father today. Like right now, I want to daydream but I’m forcing myself not to. In turn, the cigarette in my breast isn’t calling my name.

Instead, I take it out and place it on the table. “Here you go.”

Fonseca reaches for it and examines it for it bit. “You never told me you smoke.”

“I don’t. I never told you I like to hold it. I had it for months now but I never get the urge to smoke it.”

Fonseca examines it one more and sets it back on the table. She writes on her Ipad. “May I ask why?”

“I didn’t know. For the longest time, I didn’t know but it came to me today.”

“And what is that?”

I pick up the cigarette and think of my mother. I think about the darkness and Freyja Elledge sparks through it. I think about Andrew and Grace. I think about Virginia. “Do you have a light?”

“You seriously want to smoke right now? You just said you don’t.”

“Please?”

Fonseca looks over to her wall where there is a small no smoking sign that I never paid much attention to. “Go ahead,” She says giving me a lighter. I put the cigarette in my mouth and hold the lighter up to it. I stare at it for a second then at Fonseca for a second. I look back down and light it right up. “What are you hoping to happen?”

“Morning Glory,” I take my first inhale.