“She could hardly remember now how she used to fill the hours of her life”

This is an excerpt from my novel Careful Where You Stand.  You can read more about the novel here and read another excerpt here.

She could hardly remember now how she used to fill the hours of her life.  To keep her mind busy felt like a constant struggle.

She tagged along with her parents as they ran their errands.  She wasn’t much for company.  It was hard to engage in small talk when they were always staring at her with those concerned looks on their faces.  It began when Ally died, but it’d become so much worse since her visit to the hospital.  Always they searched her face for signs.  When she was alone in her room too long, they’d come check on her.  When she said she was going for a walk, they insisted they could use the exercise too.

It was a new dynamic she was slowly getting used to.  She’d always been the happy child. She pushed the limits occasionally, but she never went too far.  They didn’t have to worry about her.  Now she was unpredictable. She was flirting with something serious, and they didn’t have confidence that she wouldn’t fall over the edge.

She knew how they felt.  Her mother was easy to read, and her dad had been forced to voice his concerns directly for fear that Haley was in real danger.  She tried to convince them that things were getting better, but they were watching all the time.  She couldn’t smile through it all, she couldn’t keep her eyes in focus through every dinner conversation, and she couldn’t always eat her food without first gagging.

Though they didn’t ask any specific questions about her sessions with Dr. Vine, she tried to offer them a clue or two after each one.  In passing, Haley would say, “We talked about that trip Ally and I took to Portland when she first got her license.  Remember that?” or “She said I should try harder to talk to the kids at school.”  They’d say something encouraging, and she would smile and agree.  Later when they walked by the living room and saw her staring into space rather than paying attention to the TV, they’d pause for a second in the hall, the look of concern returning, before walking away.

Her mother was most concerned that she continue to eat and shower regularly.  She’d been managing both fairly well.  It was easier if she ate regularly, but sometimes she’d forget and long hours would pass, the juices in her stomach swirling around, making her nauseated rather than hungry.  She liked to stand under the warm shower and think of nothing.  No one could catch her there.  Her mom only knocked on the door when more than a half hour had passed.  Then she’d wash her hair quickly, change into clean clothes, and appear downstairs for a snack before bed.

Maybe it was all a waste of time, since they didn’t believe her anyway.  But, Haley knew it was those subtle looks of fear and disappointment that kept her moving forward.  She’d like to climb in bed after school, but her mother couldn’t find her that way.  It was this self-delusion—the idea that she was really fooling people with her act—that helped her get up every morning and go to school every day.  She didn’t want to think of what would happen if she let the truth in.

Haley couldn’t even explain to herself how she could sit in class and talk and laugh with Ryan and Rick and the girl who sat in front of her, Angela.  Even then she wasn’t without her grief.  It sat in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down like lead.  She never forgot it.  It wasn’t like before when the realization of Ally’s death would leave her and then come crashing down upon her again, the pain renewed.  This was dull and heavy and constant.  But, it didn’t keep her from smiling or joking.  It just kept her from believing it would ever go away.