Page 56 of Tear Me Apart

This angers her to no end. “Does the whole fucking world know except for me?”

Lauren snaps up her head. “Hey. Language.”

Dr. Oliver shuts the door behind him. They are their own nuclear family now.

“Who else knows? Aunt J?”

“Yes. Juliet knows,” Lauren answers, cringing.

“Gee, thanks. And you too, doc.”

Dr. Oliver clears his throat. “Listen, Mindy. The blood work told me the truth, and I confronted your parents. Be upset with me, not them. I’m the one who—”

“I’m furious with all of you right now. And I’m sick of this place. Can I go home?”

Lauren stands and starts to apologize for Mindy’s tone, but Dr. Oliver nods. “I don’t blame you a bit. Yes, you can be discharged. Take it easy, though. I’ll see you back in a couple of days for a treatment, okay?”

“Thanks, doc.” And to her parents who aren’t her parents, “We can continue this discussion later. Get me out of here.”

30

UNIVERSITY HOSPITAL

NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE

1993

VIVIAN

The first letter to arrive makes me jump with joy. It’s the first truly happy moment I’ve had since Liesel confided in me that first time. It is almost Christmas, and Liesel has been gone for two weeks. The ward has been a horrible place without her. I’m stuck back into the daily routine with the droolers and visionaries, and I’m lonely, bone-tired, and, if I’m being honest, wondering why I’m still walking the earth when I have absolutely nothing to live for.

Ratchet brings me the letter in the music room and gives me permission to take it to my room to read. She’s been trying to pull me out of my funk, but it’s not working. I am funkalicious. I am the funk.

I close the door most of the way and sit on Liesel’s bed with my feet drawn up. The envelope has already been opened—there is no privacy on the ward.

December 10, 1993

Dear V,

I hope you are doing well. I wanted to say thank you for all you did to help me, both before and after the miscarriage. This is a time of my life I want to put behind me. As you can imagine, the tragedy and heartbreak of the situation is overwhelming. I feel like I have paid for my sins, and now I have a chance to move forward, to experience the world in a different way.

I wasn’t going to write, but then I realized so much of my recovery was because of you. So if you want to write me back, that would be okay. If you don’t want to, I completely understand. We’ve been through a horrible thing together, you and I, and if you’d rather forget and move on, I don’t blame you.

I hope you’re feeling less bleak today.

Thinking of you,

Liesel

At first, I am incensed. Livid. Furious. I stomp around the room, throwing things. Here she is, with the opportunity and choice to escape this shitty life, an opportunity I fear I will never have again. Why is she looking back? I told her if she got out before me to never look back.

But the rational part of me is so fucking grateful she’s reached out to me. She’s given me a lifeline to the outside world. She’s given me hope. It is a gift I don’t know that I will ever be able to repay. I hate to be indebted to others. I hate that this small letter makes my heart burst open and gush feelings through my body.

Ours is a special friendship. We’ve been through too much together to let it all go.

I sit down and write back, my wrist hard against the desktop. I’m not used to writing letters, and my hand cramps so badly I have to stop and shake it out a few times.

December 14, 1993