New Horizons (25 page)

When I looked back over my shoulder, Logan had her face pressed up against the glass. There was a lot of skin spread out, and when her tongue touched the glass, I shook my head at her.

Sharon got up and grabbed Logan by the sleeve and pulled her back.

“You two are soulmates,” Twin said.

“Yeah, that or we’re going to kill each other some day. I think we’re the kind of people that should go our separate ways. Not keep in touch. And then just tell stories about each other to our grandkids—make it really nostalgic, like we missed each other or something. That’s a better kind of friend. Someone far away, who you don’t actually have to get together with, or ever really know.”

“That’s called a stranger.”

I went inside the mess hall just as Logan was coming out. Twin didn’t follow me. She stayed outside because it wasn’t her turn. Logan smashed her shoulder against mine when I walked past her, and I pretended not to notice the blow while I kept moving toward Sharon. When I got to her sitting at our table, she told me not to bother taking a seat.

“Am I just going to stand?”

“No, you’re going to be having your solo session with Larry.”

I chuckled. She was hilarious.

“Get going Valerie, Larry is in his office. Just sit outside it until he’s done with the resident he’s talking to.”

“I’m gonna die in this place,” I whispered.

“No you’re not. Get going.”

I dragged my feet to his office and sat in the chair just outside the door. His door was open a crack and I listened to one of Larry’s epic speeches that I’m sure he told all of his screw-ups.

“I don’t want you to get caught up in the bad things you’ve done, but I don’t want you to forget about them either. You can’t deny that they happened—you did some terrible things. But the physical violence you displayed against your girlfriend was a sign of your internal struggles. Normal people don’t hold a knife up to someone’s throat. Normal people not only have control, but don’t have the urge to do what you’ve done. Now, this doesn’t make you a bad person as long as you understand that you have problems that you’re seeking help for.”

I tried to get ready to catch my eyeballs when they popped out of my head. I didn’t want them rolling around on the floor. My ears were little caves, deep and listening to the room that some crazy kid was in. His issues seemed so much worse than my own. Mine seemed like nothing.

It was nice to know that there were people worse off than you—really messed up souls that couldn’t figure out anything. At least I didn’t go around wanting to stab people. I didn’t even think about it. Maybe I was just boring.

“If you ever want to be part of society, and get a chance at avoiding jail someday, you have to accept that there are areas of your life that you need to fix, and that to do this, you need to accept other people’s help.”

Someone had held a knife up to someone else’s throat. There was nothing worse. You were too far gone if you were ever in that kind of situation. There was no point trying to change. Like Larry said—normal people didn’t do that. Larry was talking to a lunatic, and I wondered why he was even wasting his breath—

“Murray, you can be as good as you want to be. It’s all up to you.”

It wasn’t my eyes that popped out of their sockets. It was my stomach that moved first, and turned over from shock. It rolled and rolled, and I didn’t think it was going to ever stop.

“I know that, I just don’t feel like I have control over myself sometimes.” His voice was low. He didn’t sound like that cocky boy from before. “I have issues.”

“At least you recognize that and you show remorse,” Larry said. “Some people never get better because they don’t have the self-awareness to recognize that they need to change. Remember what I said? That change is life forgiving you.”

I remembered that. I also remembered Murray telling me different things about his past. That he was at the program for a DUI. He hadn’t said shit about nearly stabbing someone—no, not just anyone. His girlfriend.

There was shuffling in the room. A chair moving. And I stayed where I was when Murray walked out. He didn’t see me sitting there when he walked straight toward the mess hall door with his head down, but I couldn’t let him go into the world in an ignorant bliss like that.

“Hey Murray.”

His head snapped up.

“Great story.” I gave him a thumbs up. “My favourite part was everything.”

Murray turned and left. He made sure to slam the screen door of the mess hall as hard as he could. To show how manly he was. Maybe he would take it out on his girlfriend later when he got out of the program. I bet he made her stay with him too.

15:
MY INTERPRETATION

Larry was looking at me from across his desk, waiting for me to say something funny. And then he would go from there. Make a life point from it. Turn it around against me. I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want to give him a reason to say anything bad about me.

“You’re quiet.”

I rolled my eyes.

“What’s the eye roll for?”

“I can never do anything right.” I looked down at my hands. They were pretty dirty, which wasn’t a surprise since I hadn’t washed my hands in a while. My skin felt rough, and it would’ve been nice to have a drink of lotion for them. I couldn’t stop thinking about Murray. He was such a messed up person.

“You do that a lot.”

I looked up at him.

“You look at your hands when you’re nervous.”

“No, I look at my hands when I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t know what to do right now?”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“It would be nice, if you’re actually asking, if we could have a serious conversation for once. I don’t even care about the topic. I would love to hear about a passion of yours. Anything. There is nothing more pleasing for me to listen to someone talk about their passion.”

I laughed.

“Why is that funny?”

“I don’t have a passion.”

“Come on, humour me. Just think about it.”

I thought about it. For real. And even though I was just lazy and didn’t want to contribute at first, when it really came down to it, I wasn’t passionate about anything in life. At all. There was nothing that I would be all that miserable without.

“What are you thinking Valerie?”

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“No, come on. What’s running through your mind right now?”

“I don’t have a passion. That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Do you believe that or do you just not want to talk to me?”

“I’m talking to you right now.”

He smiled.

I looked at my hands. And when I realized I was looking at my hands, I sat on them.

“What’s something you’re good at then?”

I sighed. “Honestly, this is a one sided conversation. I don’t have answers to these.”

“No? I think you do. You just don’t know the answers yet. And I can help you out. I know something you’re good at. But you probably don’t realize it.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You’re good with people.”

“Are you joking?”

“Come on, Val. There’s something about how you talk to people that is genuine. And you care about them. I’ve seen it with people around you in this program. You let strangers matter to you. What does that say about you?”

“I don’t think anyone matters to me here.”

“No? Then why do you stand up for Tracy McPherson, and why do you let yourself fight with Logan Mitchell, and why do you talk to Murray Little, when he is somebody, like you heard, that can be very dangerous.”

I felt the pressure of my body on my hands. I wanted to pull them out, and maybe get up and leave. But I stared at a spot on his desk, where a mechanical pencil laid on its side with the led too far out. There was no way he could write with lead that long. It would break off.

“Valerie Campbell, whether you know it or not, there is something about you that makes you likable without even trying, and that quality is seen only because you have a genuine curiosity about people and their problems.”

“Maybe I’m nosey.”

“No. You just care.”

“No.”

“No? I think you care about Murray.”

“Hell no.”

“You’re mad about something.”

“Yeah so? He’s a piece of shit. You know that too.”

“I don’t think so. I think he’s done terrible things, but he still deserves a chance at figuring out why he does the things he does. Just like anybody does.”

“That’s bullshit. Bad people are bad people because they make choices that good people don’t. It’s as easy as that.”

“Yeah? Do you think you’re a bad person?”

“Yeah probably. I’m not a good person. I’ve done stupid things, and I’m not going around trying to get better. I am who I am.”

“So since you accept being bad, is that good?”

“No, I didn’t say that.”

“Sounds like that’s what you’re saying. That since you know you do bad things, you’re a better person than someone who does bad things and doesn’t know it yet. I think those are the same kind of person. But the difference is whether or not you’re willing to change.”

“I guess I’m not.”

“Well, that means Murray is less bad than you.”

“I didn’t hold a knife up to anyone’s throat.”

“He didn’t push a 65-year-old woman to the ground either. And he never tried to kill himself either.”

And there it was.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know why you need to bring that up.”

“You did it,” he said. “Didn’t you?”

“I know better now.”

“What exactly do you know better now? That guns are dangerous, and shouldn’t be pointed at anyone, including yourself? That it wasn’t going to be worth it—
if you actually did it.
And I’m sure you felt something when it was next to your temple, waiting for your move—what was it you felt? I bet you felt a lot of things. I bet your gut dropped, and I bet your heart was racing. I bet your thoughts were pounding on your skull—
what would this mean? What would this do? Who would this hurt? Where would I end up? Is this bad of me? I don’t know what to do.
That kind of stuff. And I hope for some quiet moment, somewhere deep in your head, that you realized it wasn’t normal to do what you were doing. That there was something wrong with you—
is
something wrong with you—that you needed and still need help with.”

I kept my eyes over his shoulder, away from his gaze, because if I tried answering him, the wells of tears would pour over. I didn’t want to deal with that, and for him to see how much I was still hurting.

“I just want you to know that you’re no different than anybody unless you actively make the choice to be a better person each and everyday of your life. And until then, you can’t judge anyone that enters into your life. Not one, single person.”

Larry let me leave his office without pulling more words from me. My hands were red from sitting on them. I wanted the family activities to end, but we still had one more until lunch. If I had a choice of activity, I would’ve chose running laps or treading water again over craft hour. Because craft hour, although meant to be a treat for us, was with other groups, and there was one group who had a girlfriend beating piece of shit on its team.

Murray tried sitting next to me but I sat at a wall. Another girl took a spot behind me, and a boy grabbed a spot in front of me. Murray had to sit a couple tables back, and I felt relieved that I didn’t have to be friendly with him. I wanted nothing to do with anyone, which was what the program was becoming about.

Mary and Sharon passed around baggies full of crap. They placed one on each person’s desk. I looked down at mine to keep my eyes distracted so I didn’t have to look at anyone.

“We are making dream catchers this afternoon,” Mary said. She touched the corner of one of her little eyes, and it looked like she had pushed her entire eyeball into her head.

My little baggie wasn’t full of crap like I had first assumed. It was full of dream catching tools. It was a bunch of cord and wire and rope. I wasn’t an artistic person, but in high school I took art because my option was art, drama, or band. I would have taken drama if I liked talking in front of people, but that wasn’t for me, and I would have taken band if I knew how to play something, but I didn’t know how. I chose art because art seemed easier than anything else to fake.

My art teacher was Miss Kay. She’d also been my geography teacher that semester, which was common at our school. Teachers always taught subjects they didn’t have an interest in.

Miss Kay was a teacher I was afraid of because she was always telling us to shut our goddamn mouths. She loved to yell, and I didn’t want to make her mad. Miss Kay also liked telling the smart students they were smart, and the dumb ones that they were dumb. One day Miss Kay told me I could be really smart if I wanted to be, and that was her way of telling me I was one of the dumb kids.