It takes the full first act of Caitlin’s favorite Best Picture winner for her to come up for air. When I feel like shit, I want funny, simple fluff. The latest Marvel film would have been top of my list, but Caitlin is art house and fancy cinema all the time.
And her mask cracks. The one that is always in place to hide the sort of stuff that will never go up on @APatientLife. Before the world, we all wear a mask. Each disabled person I’ve met does this; it’s like a mask that makes you accessible to the outside world. We’re happy, our pain is bad—but not too bad. We take up space but not too much space. Our emotions are never allowed to stray into territory that might suggest the world at large has no desire to accommodate us. These questions surface only briefly and are then swallowed up by who she thinks she should be.
I give up on trying to follow the story, my mind happy to miss the finer points of filmmaking, and hunker down under the quilt. Perky—I mean Veronica—hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe that’s a good thing. Caitlin in her normal state keeps a leash on her tongue; Caitlin in survival mode cares very little about who lives and who dies under her verbal lashings. And I’m not sure if Veronica has full control over her “perky” tendencies.
I nudge Caitlin with my feet. Just a way to tell her I’m here. Her watery eyes flick from the screen to me. I smile at her, shoving all the warmth, love, and affection I have for her into the gesture.
She just stares right through me. “What’s wrong with me?” Caitlin asks.
I flinch, not with it enough to answer this question. It’s branded on my heart, under my skin, on the insides of my eyelids. Sometimes I think when I was born this question was my first breath. What’s wrong with me? Not a diagnosis, not an acronym that no one understands, but what’s wrong with me that I can’t find a way to fit into this world?
Her gaze floats back to the screen. “I wish life was like the movies.” If we were girls in movies, her question would be referring to her relationship, but we’re not in movies, and this breakup—every breakup—always leads us back here: Is this all tied up somehow in how we look? In what we are?
“Solved in an hour and a half?” I say, trying for a joke that falls flat on its face.
“Solvable. Nothing goes wrong in movies that can’t be fixed.” Caitlin runs a hand—the one missing a thumb—through her frizzed-out curls. They spread around her head and in the glow of the lights look like a lopsided halo.
“Because.” I stop myself there. Because life’s not fair. Because we are this way. Because you keep going after and getting boys who don’t treat you right.
My phone lights up with a new notification from Jack. An arrow of warmth pierces my heart and I can’t help but be grateful that he’s separate from this. He puts up with my wild moods that come and go. Nothing may be simple, but he holds on. I just need him to hold on a little longer—until I’m back and the idiot doctors have finally figured out what’s wrong with me and I can return … to what feels normal.
Jack
See you soon!
I stare at his text. That’s weird. Maybe it was meant for someone else?
“I hate that answer,” Caitlin says, drawing me back to the present. She deflates around her bowl of mostly melted ice cream.
“Yeah,” I say quietly, tucking my phone and all thoughts of Jack away. There should be better answers. Better reasons for why things happen.
I shake my head. What am I saying to my friend? She is the one thing I can fix, the one thing I can save even as my own life crumbles. And in that moment, the mask that holds me in is stripped away and I find the words to this pit of unknown feeling.
“No, sorry.” I sit up and throw the quilt off. “The world is fucked up. There’s nothing wrong with us—but there’s something very wrong with the world. And something particularly wrong with that asshole.”
I pace, if only to give my anger an out, and there’s Veronica standing in the doorway looking like she’s about to run away. What was I thinking inviting her up here? She is definitely not ready for this side of the Home. There’s a reason volunteers are supposed to stick to the first floor.
Caitlin sits up on the couch, her head popping up over the back. She spots Veronica and I can feel the lasers in her eyes. Not happy, but no longer on the verge of tears. I have approximately five seconds before she lets Perky have it.
“You came,” I say, shock sliding out in between the words. Caitlin’s head snaps back to me. At least I’ve managed to get the attention off Veronica. But now those lasers are firmly on me.
“You said … If it’s a bad time…” She backpedals like she can’t get out fast enough.
Oh no, you don’t. She can’t leave—this is the distraction Caitlin and I need. And what a blessed relief it is. I draw in a breath, frustration and anger tamped back down for another day.
“No, no, come on in, we were just getting started.” I will forcibly drag her back, shoving my people-approved mask back on. Because I don’t have time to go down that road into my own feelings. Better to put the mask back on and get on with it.
I wave a hand toward a chair and Veronica sits. She fingers the arms like she may use them to push herself up and sprint for the door.
“And to what do we owe this honor?” Caitlin’s words are knifepoints meant to skin both Veronica and me alive.
“Veronica,” I say, taking my place on the couch, “was the one who gave us the chocolate and these blankets.”
“What’s your favorite film?” Caitlin asks, and I hold my breath. Come on, Veronica, nail this question.
“Oh.” She looks to me as if I’d have an answer. “Umm, well, I’ve always had a soft spot for Citizen Kane, but most recently I’ve found the films coming out of foreign markets to be more interesting than what we’re doing stateside.”
Caitlin leans back, and a smile creeps in—Veronica couldn’t have given a more perfect answer.
I’m good for film discussions only if the topic is the finer points of comics vs. movie adaptations. Caitlin considers my lack of film appreciation her greatest failing as a friend.
“I hope you can catch up; we’re not starting over.”
I sigh in relief, and Veronica and I exchange a smile. We made it through. Caitlin un-pauses the movie. The addition to our pairing changes the mood. Caitlin picks herself up, slotting back into her @APatientLife self. I nudge her with my feet and she gives me a waning smile. She’s not perfect, but she’s holding it together.
Little C lets himself out of his room, passing by the cutout opening in the wall, his beanie in place and book in his hands. He wears a surgical mask, but otherwise he looks like he could be one of us.
“Hey, Little C,” I say, “join us.” Inviting Veronica was a good move, so why not continue to add to the party?
He pauses at the opening, resting his book on the ledge and draping his long arms over the edge.
While not able to be completely open-concept, the Home does try to have lots of visible points into each room. There are “windows” in the kitchen that open onto the hallway and cutouts in the family room walls so that it’s easy to see which rooms are free for use and which ones you may actually have to fight over—or have an awkward conversation about.
Little C watches the screen. “Movie night and no one called me.”
“Sit and shut it or move on,” Caitlin says. She can be a little strict when it comes to her movie-watching experience. I didn’t know how low it was possible to get in a movie theater chair until she went off on a girl texting during the show.
I hold out the popcorn bowl, trying to tempt him into joining us. He taps his book on the ledge but then leaves it there. He drops into another chair. “Eh, why not. This is one of my favorites.”
Caitlin glares at me. I have now brought not one but two people into her inner sanctum. I incline my head and plaster on a smile. I did—but at least they can speak her language.
“Even if I prefer his earlier work—before he got famous. Lesser-known but brilliant cinematography.”
Caitlin’s head turns slowly, like a monster in a horror movie distracted with new prey.
I could kiss Little C. Except now I am trapped between three film nerds. My kingdom for an action movie lover.
“I saw those,” Veronica says.
And that’s all it takes for Caitlin to pause the movie and cement the three of them as friends. They start a conversation about the merits of this director’s early work versus his current films.
Where is a white flag when you need it? Giving up on their conversation, I check my phone, but there are no more mysterious messages from Jack.
“Ellie—” Caitlin tries to include me but then sees my phone. “Just tell them already.”
I click my phone closed.
“Tell who what?” Little C asks.
I open my mouth, but Caitlin gets there first. “Ellie will stare at her texts from her friends at home for hours—and never reply.”
Veronica and Little C trade looks that say I’ve officially been labeled as “the weird one.”
“Ooooh yeah,” Little C says, nodding as if he gets it but is really just being polite.
“See?” I point to him as someone on my side—even if it’s forced. “I’m not the only one. He—Little C—gets it.”
“Luis,” he says, holding a hand to his chest. “And for the record, that’s awkward as hell.”
“I take it you don’t give them the Big C versus little c talk?”
“Wait—” Veronica stops us, cocking her head to the side like she’s trying to understand a foreign language. “Little c?”
“Like the cancer that is curable,” Luis says, looking a little apologetic. Veronica stares in wide-eyed amazement.
“Those exist?” Veronica says. I try to hold in my eye roll. She just had to go and let Perky off her chain. And here I thought Veronica could hang.
“She’s the normal one,” Caitlin says.
Red stains Veronica’s cheeks, but Luis just smiles.
“Can I interview you? For my channel? The whole online disability conversation can be real white. Would love to hear about your experience—if you want.” This launches into a whole thing about @APatientLife and I tune out when the three of them take a hard left into a conversation about The Elephant Man. I know Caitlin’s diatribe on this film and could probably give a decent TED Talk about The Elephant Man’s failings even without having seen the film.
I’ll gladly accept being left in the dust if it means Caitlin’s no longer on the verge of tears.
Team Doctor Boy rounds the corner and we lock eyes. I bet he won’t be able to turn around fast enough. He stops, probably unsure if he wants to step into this pool. The last time we all faced off, it ended in a draw. There’s a score to settle.
But he just raises his eyebrows, a silent challenge that seems to say Go on … say something, and walks on through. The corner of his mouth quirks up and I only just stop myself from throwing my phone at him.
“Still here, I see—guess you’re still hating on doctors?” he asks, casually talking just to me since the others are still locked in conversation. He stops by my head on the other side of the couch.
“That’s not how this works,” I say, and inwardly flinch because what a pathetic comeback.
“No opinions, Ellie?” Luis says, pulling me back into the cinematic conversation. The film crew are now fixated on Team Doctor Boy and me like we’re up for a major award.
“Ellie is more of an explosions and super-suits kind of girl,” Caitlin says like she’s talking about a mean commenter. A little self-righteous, a little condescending, and fully disappointed.
Luis pulls back like he can’t quite understand how Caitlin and I go together. And the shock on his face only makes me laugh. Caitlin and I make very little sense on paper, but that’s what can be so special about hospital friendships. They don’t have to make sense and can be forged from the simple fact that we’re going through something extraordinary.
“What I’m hearing is that she should be thanking us for expanding her horizons. She can join Ryan’s crash course,” Luis says. The three of them break into giggles and I roll my eyes. I’m used to the crap about my movie taste, but do they have to do it in front of Team Doctor Boy?
“Very funny.”
“Thor: Ragnarok was one of the best pieces of cinema,” Team Doctor Boy—excuse me, Ryan—says. The three film snobs stare in amazement, or probably what is complete horror. I’m sort of impressed. Jack dragged me to each and every Marvel release. While I do love a movie with super-suits, I’m just … particular when it comes to action. I want to be able to go there and not have read the five hundred comics that came before it to understand the nuances. Not even Jack can get me to wade into that mess.
But Thor remains one of the best movies I’ve ever seen with Jack. I guess Ryan isn’t all bad.
Mom comes in and there’s no more time to process Ryan’s love of action movies because unless I am hallucinating, Jack is suddenly there.
My Jack—Jack, who likes comic books. Jack, my boyfriend, is standing next to my mom.
I sit up straight. Blood drains from my face. I try to take a deep breath to make sure my brain has enough oxygen, but it just sets off my lungs.
“Jack?”
He smiles and gives a small wave to the room. Mom looks like she just delivered the best present. My brain fires off a series of thoughts piecing things together.
Mom.
The surprise.
This.…
How dare she.