I think today’s the day,” Amy said, walking briskly over to the little window in my room and peering out.
“But the weather’s terrible.” I pulled my sweater tighter around my shoulders. “I’ve seen at least ten snowflakes.”
“Oh, Hannah.” She smiled like I was being cute.
I wasn’t being cute. I didn’t want to go outside alone.
“Do you still have that coat we loaned you?” Amy asked.
“Maybe,” I said. It was very plainly sticking out of the bottom drawer of my dresser. “But my stomach hurts.”
I wasn’t expecting Amy to buy it, and guess what, she didn’t.
“You were fine when they took your vitals an hour ago,” she said.
“It must have been something I ate.”
Amy came over and touched my shoulder gently. “Hon, no malingering, please.”
“I’m sick,” I said. Then I added, “In the head.”
Amy gave a short bark of a laugh. “Yeah, I’ve never heard that one before. Come on, put on your shoes.”
There was no point in arguing with her. I was going out, whether I wanted to or not. “I’m going to need laces,” I told her. “And a buddy. You know, how in elementary school, when you have to hold hands—”
“You’ll get laces when we sign you out. But you don’t need a buddy.”
“What if I want one? Like…” I pretended to think. “Like, I don’t know—Jordan.” I could leave the ward if it meant I’d be with him. I’d laugh at his stupid jokes and we’d walk around the neighborhood and maybe we could get coffee or even ice cream like two totally normal people. I mean, I woke up feeling pretty good today. Like I could have a regular conversation with someone.
Preferably Jordan Hassan.
“It’s his day off,” Amy said. “And you don’t need him.”
But I want him.
“Come on, let’s get you a MetroCard.” She literally lifted me off my bed. “You can borrow my hat.”
Thirty minutes later, I was standing outside the hospital that’d been my home for the last few weeks. Shivering. Not feeling so good anymore. Not sure I could take any more steps into the world than I already had.
The air was cold and fresh. It wasn’t snowing—not even one tiny flake.
“Go!” I heard Amy shouting behind me. “Go.”
I hunched my shoulders. The coat smelled like someone had sprayed it with disinfectant since I wore it last.
“Fine,” I muttered through gritted teeth.
I made it out to the sidewalk by keeping my head down. Just walk, I said to myself. Just put one dumb foot in front of the other. One, two, three, four, five… When I got to the corner, a city bus pulled up beside me. I turned and gave the hospital one last look, and then I got on.
Inside it was warm and steamy, and there were a bunch of free seats. I felt self-conscious in my borrowed clothes. I hadn’t remembered to brush my hair or wipe the yogurt stain off my pants. I knew that if anyone looked closely at me, they’d be able to guess where I’d come from. But no one looked at me at all. They just stared at their phones.
The doors shut, and the bus lurched into traffic.
I didn’t have a plan for where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I told myself that all I had to do was keep it together until it was time to go back to my little white room.
I stared out the window as we drove west, watching people walking their dogs, or waiting to cross the street, or going into or coming out of stores. It was like having a front-row seat to the world’s most boring movie.
After we crossed the bridge to Manhattan, I transferred to a bus going uptown. I got another window seat. By now I had a pretty good idea of where I was headed, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself.
It was too weird.
Too crazy.
Jordan always told me not to use that word, but he wasn’t around to stop me.
When I got to 116th Street, I slipped out the back of the bus and found myself outside the gates of Columbia University. I took a deep breath and passed right through them.