When the doctor knocked, I assumed she was another in a series of specialists that were monitoring Ren, a physical therapist, or another neurosurgeon. She introduced herself with a long, unfamiliar name I didn’t catch, shaking hands with his mom and his brother, before asking them politely to leave the room.
Ren and I exchanged worried looks, before he tore his gaze away, not wanting to be caught staring meaningfully at nothing.
“Blink once if you want me to stay,” I said. “Twice if you want me to leave.”
He blinked once, and then again, not looking at me. As much as I would’ve liked to stay, he didn’t need me distracting him.
I hated having to eavesdrop, listening through the walls. It felt like a step back. Soon enough, I might have no other choice if I wanted to know how he was doing. I couldn’t stay in his life forever.
“Mr. Takahashi,” said the doctor, perfectly warm and casual. “Should I leave the light off?”
“Please,” said Ren.
Chair legs scraped on the tile floor. “How are you doing?”
Ren hesitated, just as I would’ve done. It felt like a trick question.
“I’m not dead.”
Not the answer I would’ve chosen. At least, not while talking to a mental health professional. But I’d never intended to answer truthfully. Maybe he did.
She didn’t hesitate to take that opening. “Why did you jump?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said. “I thought I’d get committed, and I really, really didn’t want to go back there.”
For a moment, she spoke almost too low to hear. “I… I understand.” Louder, she went on. “I see here you were involuntarily hospitalized for a… violent schizophrenic episode.”
“Not violent.” His voice trembled. “I scared some people, but I didn’t hurt anyone.”
“I believe you.”
He went silent. I wished I could see his face, so I could tell whether he believed her back.
She continued questioning him about the history of his diagnosis. He owned up to it, or at least didn’t bother trying to change anything already on record. Then she asked if he’d ever made any previous attempts, and if this one had been planned. He hadn’t, and it had been spontaneous.
“Have you ever had suicidal thoughts?”
“Sure,” he said, so casual, as if it were easy to admit. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“I can’t speak for everyone.”
“Do you?”
I covered my mouth, laughing in disbelief. My eyes welled up, suddenly pained, like I’d popped a stitch. I still bled with love.
The doctor’s reply sounded light, possibly leavened with a wry smile. “Once you study for eight years and show me your certification of psychiatry, you can ask me that question.”
“Maybe I will,” he said. Not flippant—thoughtful.
It took her a moment to put on her professional voice again. “Did anything—excuse me—have you experienced any major life changes lately?”
“Not really.”
That might’ve been his first lie. But he couldn’t go into detail about any of his recent life changes.
“Have you been experiencing any feelings of hopelessness or despair?”
He actually laughed. “Um, no shit.”
“Could you tell me more?”
“I’ve been kind of depressed lately, about my job, and, uh—relationship—and the future in general.”
That gave her pause. Some papers were rustled. She might’ve been checking notes, or taking them down. She asked for some further details about said job and relationship and the future in general. He answered truthfully, up to a point.
And then she asked more about the relationship.
“It’s wonderful,” he said. “Or, you know, it used to be, up until she died.”
She sounded for real. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Thanks.”
“That’s a major life change,” she said, as coolly as she could, slightly miffed he hadn’t brought it up sooner, rather than throwing her a curveball.
“It happened about a year ago.”
“It’s very common for bereavement to cause major depression. You must miss her terribly.”
“I wanted to join her. That’s how she went. She killed herself, jumping off a building.”
It still hurt to hear.
“How did you feel, when you found out?”
He might be getting in over his head with this version of the truth. But he gave it his all. “So fucking mad.”
“Why’s that?”
“She could’ve been the one.”
“Is that why you were depressed?” she asked. “About the future, in general?”
“Well, plus—you know—global warming and all.”
“We’re all feeling that.” She betrayed a small sigh before clearing her throat. “So you felt alone, after your partner passed.”
“… Right.”
“And deprived of the future you’d envisioned.”
He must’ve nodded, perhaps overwhelmed.
“How do you think your mother and siblings would feel, if you had succeeded?”
“I get it,” he said. “I didn’t think about them. And she didn’t think about anybody else, either. We were wrong.”
“Do you regret making the attempt?”
“Well, it would’ve saved me a lot of brain, and, like, being able to walk, if I’d just come to my senses earlier. So, fuck yes.”
She couldn’t stifle a laugh. Then she cleared her throat, trying to stay professional. “So, now that you’re awake, and very much lucid, we only need to keep you around for another seventy-two hours for observation. After that, I’m going to recommend outpatient therapy.”
He didn’t hold back his sigh of relief.
“I hear you’ve already made some friends here?” she asked.
“You must have all the hot gossip.”
“Keep in touch,” she said. “They’ll go over this in therapy, but it’s important you build a strong support system of family and friends. Think of them as a safety net to catch you if you start to feel like you’re falling.” It took her a second. “I’m sorry, that’s not a good one-size-fits-all metaphor for some patients, is it?”
I could practically hear his wry smile as he quipped, “None taken.”
Her papers shuffled again, and a chair scuffed across the floor. “It’s been good to meet you.”
“I’m glad to be here for it,” he said.
She went to go speak with his family. I went back into the room.
Ren beamed at me. “Outpatient.”
I rushed to him. “You’re going home?”
He could safely shrug again. “I mean, with my folks.”
“That’s going to be rough.”
“Well, if I’m not paying rent… maybe I could afford to give school a shot.”
As soon as he said it, I knew. We didn’t have a lot of time left together. About seventy-two hours, in fact. After that, he’d be starting a new life—one I couldn’t share.
* * *
It had been about sixty hours.
“You think it’s time?” I asked, sitting on his bed.
He didn’t try to hide the tremble around his mouth. “If you think so, there’s nothing I could say to convince you otherwise, is there?”
I smiled. “That’s not true.”
He grinned back, even as his eyes filled. “I can’t think what to say, though. So this must be it.”
I didn’t bother wiping my own eyes. I had to swallow hard to manage any words. “We had a better goodbye last time.”
“Sorry for ruining it.”
“Well, you can’t live trying to plan perfect lasts. This isn’t goodbye forever. Maybe, after you’ve had a long and full life, and you’re tired, and happy to go, I’ll see you again. Don’t worry about your future partner, whoever that might be. Or any of my next lovers. They can join us. You think they’ll allow orgies in heaven?”
He cracked up through the tears. That’s when I snuck him a quick kiss on the cheek. Because if I gave him the chance to kiss me back, I wouldn’t be able to stop. We’d have to come up with another goodbye, and I didn’t know if I could top my last joke. So I just spirited away.
* * *
Evie awoke, as if she could sense my presence.
I didn’t mince my words. “I can’t stay.”
She gaped at me. “Why not?”
“Ren’s got to move on with his life. I don’t think either of us will be able to do that if I linger.”
Her eyes welled up. “You can still see me—can’t you?”
“I’d rather not risk it,” I said, sitting down on the bed. “You guys will be together a lot.”
“Really?”
“You’d better be. I need you to take care of each other.”
Since she still had to work on her motor movements, I leaned in and wiped away her tears.
“Are you sure you can’t just… drop in? Say hi?” she asked.
“I’ll still grab geists, but if you see me, you’d better pretend you didn’t, all right? Don’t make this hard on me.”
She sniffed. “I already miss you.”
I tried my best to squeeze her hand. “You, too.”