WHENEVER YOU DIDN’T want to run into someone you knew, that was when you were guaranteed to have it happen. Rita knew this, so she actually had put on a little makeup and a decent-looking pair of jeans before heading to the outlet malls thirty minutes away from Safe Haven, up on the other side of Myrtle Beach.
She wandered through stores, getting more and more blue. There was a shirt she would’ve liked to wear, her favorite shade of green, but the lower neckline just wouldn’t look good on a woman of her age. She said as much to a gray-haired woman who was rifling through clothes on the same sale table.
“Honey, I don’t even bother to look for nice clothes for myself these days. I’m shopping for my granddaughter. Come on over here, Courtney, I want you to try this on.”
As the woman and her granddaughter argued, Rita left the store in a hurry. She’d been running away from her own problems, but her problems were chasing her; everything she saw and heard made her think of the emptiness of her past.
If what she suspected about the O’Dwyer boys was true, then she had grandchildren—not biological, not yet, but kids her son was fathering. But she didn’t know them. Could she ever be close enough to take them shopping, fuss at them about what was appropriate to wear? Or was that opportunity simply lost, lost forever because of whatever had happened in her shadowy past?
She wandered into a store that carried a lot of jeans and pants she liked, but it was the same situation. She could hear a mother arguing with her son over the number of rips in the jeans he wanted to buy, and the appropriate tightness of them.
“What do you care? You’re not my mother.”
Oh. So she’d been idealizing; it wasn’t a mother-son duo. But the voices did sound familiar. She peeked around a rack of boys’ jeans, and there was Yasmin and that kid she seemed to be fostering, Rocky.
It was back-to-school time. Lots of families shopping together, and Rita wondered if she had done that type of shopping for the three boys that Abel claimed she’d been with right before losing her memory. Had they gotten along well, or poorly? Had she been able to afford nice things for them?
“Look,” Yasmin was saying with that quiet tone that meant she was deeply irritated, “you need a couple of pairs of jeans and at least five shirts. I know you’d rather shop with Liam, but since he’s not here right now, let’s get started picking things out.”
Rocky slumped, staring miserably at the shelves of polo shirts. A fresh splotch of acne had sprouted on his cheek, and his hair stuck up in a way that Rita found adorable, but Rocky himself probably didn’t.
They looked like they could use a little support. “Hey, Yasmin,” Rita said, coming out into the aisle of the store. “And you’re Rocky, right? Are you guys looking for school clothes?”
“Trying to,” Yasmin said. “Apparently, I’m totally out of touch with what middle-schoolers wear around here.”
Rita thought about kids who came into the diner. “I bet they don’t wear these dressed-up type of shirts,” she said. “I mean, these are nice, but I see a lot of kids wearing T-shirts.”
“Thank you!” Rocky threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”
She was smiling sympathetically at Yasmin when Liam approached them. Her heart lurched a little.
Oh, how she wanted to talk to him about the possibility that she was his mother. Her heart ached with the desire but fluttered with cowardice at the same time. If she told him the truth, would he reject her outright?
“There you are!” Yasmin put her hands on her hips and smiled at Liam. “It’s about time. Rocky is pretty fed up with me. I think he needs a man to shop with.”
“Sorry,” Liam said. There was no trace of a smile on his normally friendly face. “I was planning to take him fishing, but I can help him shop first.”
“Oh.” Yasmin’s eyebrows drew together, the skin between them pleating. “Um, okay, as long as you keep an eye on him.”
“Will do,” Liam said. “Come on, Rocky.”
“Sure!” Rocky spun away from Yasmin, and Liam turned, then looked back.
“Hey, Rita,” he said. Then he and Rocky walked off down the aisle.
Yasmin stared after them, for a long time.
“You okay?” Rita patted Yasmin’s shoulder. “Want to get a coffee or something?”
“Do you know anything about mental illness?” Yasmin posed the question out of nowhere, not looking at Rita.
“Not much,” Rita said. “Why?”
Yasmin bit her lip. “I don’t know. My brother, Josiah, has some problems, and sometimes, I worry that I do, too.”
“You could talk to Norma. She knows a lot about mental health, with her counseling background.” And as such, she had a lot of wisdom backing her up when she kept urging Rita to get out there and figure out her past and tell the truth to people. It wasn’t just Norma being pushy. It was the best path to psychological health.
Too bad it was so hard to do.
“Your having issues wouldn’t be the first thought that came to my mind about you,” Rita said. “I think you’re a pretty great person, taking on the care of a teenage boy. That can’t be easy.”
Yasmin shrugged. “His mother bailed. I’m the only option he has right now.”
Tension clawed at Rita’s stomach. How many people had said the exact same thing about her when she’d disappeared, leaving behind her children?
She cast about for something to say. “Is his mom a friend of yours?”
Yasmin tilted her head, her eyes squinting a little. “I wouldn’t call Lorraine a friend, exactly. But we’ve known each other awhile, and I’m glad to help out for Rocky’s sake. He’s a great kid.”
Lorraine. She’d just met a Lorraine. She thought back and remembered that was the same name as the woman Buck had been with at the sunset party.
When you were blue, the best way to feel better was to help someone else. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s at least get out of the men’s department. We should either shop, or eat, or get a glass of wine, don’t you think? I’d love to talk to you about the women’s center. Maybe I could do more to help you. I have a few ideas.”
“That would be great,” Yasmin said. “Great to hear your ideas, and...and great to hang out some, today.”
And Rita got the feeling that, in some ways, Yasmin was just as lonely as she was.
“I DON’T WANT to go stupid fishing!” Rocky’s arms crossed and his face twisted into a classic middle-school sneer.
Liam narrowed his eyes at the kid. “You wanted to go when we asked you this morning.”
It was later the same afternoon, and they were standing at the little dock behind Ma Dixie’s place. Liam’s brother Sean was showing honeymoon pictures to Ma Dixie, and Cash was dumping ice into a cooler. Rio ran back and forth between all of them, barking madly.
After a morning of shopping for school clothes with Rocky—and seeing Yasmin—Liam had to reach pretty deep for patience. “How come you don’t want to go now?”
“I thought we could bring Rio with us!” Rocky’s stance was still defiant.
Cash meandered down. “You done much fishing before, Rocky?” he asked.
“No, because it’s stupid!”
Cash nodded slowly. “I guess it is, kind of.”
Rio chose that moment to knock over Pudge’s toolbox, so they all went back up to where the older man was sitting. Rocky ran ahead, probably as much to get away from Liam as to help Pudge.
“He’s scared,” Cash said in a low voice, nodding at Rocky. “Can he swim?”
That hadn’t even occurred to Liam, and he felt like an idiot for it. “Don’t know.”
“Remember how close to the shore they stuck the other night when we were here? There’s a reason for that.”
Liam nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Thank you kindly,” Pudge was saying as Rocky picked up the toolbox that Rio had knocked over and knelt to organize the tools that had spilled out. “Seems to me that dog needs some more training. If young Rocky, here, would stay and work on that with me, you three could get your fishing jones taken care of yourselves.”
“Yeah!” Rocky pumped his arm in the air.
Truthfully, that sounded like a relief to Liam. But he hated to seem to buck his responsibility. Rocky would report to Yasmin on his day, and she’d learn that Rocky hadn’t spent the time with Liam after all, but rather with Pudge.
“Sounds like a win-win,” Sean said. “You get your dog trained, and a fishing trip with your bros. What’s not to like?”
“I’m supposed to be taking care of him,” he tried to explain. “I asked Yasmin if he could come with us, so he’s my responsibility.”
“Me,” Pudge said, “I was planning to have him take care of me, fetch and carry for me since Dustin and his sisters are off on a visit.”
Rocky was kneeling now, burying his face in Rio’s side. “Can I stay here with Pudge?” he muttered in a voice Liam had to lean in to hear.
Being here with him and Cash and Sean, doing something unfamiliar, must be just too much for Rocky. That was understandable. “Okay, sure,” he said. “We’ll be a couple of hours, max.”
“Take your time,” Pudge said. “This dog needs a lot of training.”
“Well...”
Cash and Sean looked at each other. Then they each grabbed one of Liam’s arms and one of his legs and started carrying him down toward the water.
Liam struggled madly, but a minute later he was in. Dunked. He sputtered to the surface, shaking bits of plants and algae out of his hair. He scrambled up through the mud to where his brothers stood laughing. Cash had been the ringleader—and he was smaller—so Liam ran at him first, caught his midsection like a charging bull and hurled him into the water.
He and Sean both laughed as Cash emerged looking furious. He was the one who wore only expensive clothes. Cash started for Liam, but Liam held up a hand. “Only one of us not wet yet,” he said.
Cash gave a quick nod, and they both took Sean together. Each grabbing one of his arms, they threw him into the water.
Farther up on the grassy area, Pudge and Rocky were laughing. Rio ran down and started splashing around in the water, too, so Liam threw him a couple of sticks and he chased them, swimming back to shore like a crocodile. Ma Dixie came bustling down with towels, threw one to each of them, and scolded. “That water is full of snakes,” she said. “You’re setting a terrible example. Rocky, don’t go near that water, and don’t let the dog do it either.”
Horsing around with his brothers, being scolded by Ma, Liam felt like a kid again.
They all dried off and got in the boat. Liam’s clothes clung to him, wet and clammy, and the brackish water made him feel itchy. All the same, his mood had lifted. Hot August sun sparkled on the water. Off through the reeds, a couple of white egrets cried out, seeming to complain to each other. The rich, dank smell of the bayou filled his senses: neither pleasant nor unpleasant, exactly, just home.
Once they were out near a favorite fishing hole, Sean turned off the motor. “Don’t know why you were so set on bringing the kid.”
“I wanted to ask him about something I found,” Liam said. Though that hadn’t gone well; Rocky had denied having a pair of red Crocs. But Liam knew what he’d seen.
“That shoe?” Cash had taken off his designer sneakers and was wringing out his socks.
“Yeah.”
“Any more information about that?” Cash asked.
Liam’s face heated remembering how Buck had mocked him for bringing in that particular bit of evidence. “They weren’t interested,” he said, “or rather, Buck wasn’t, even though I explained that Rocky might’ve lost it that night.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be interested in anything related to the case, if you’re a cop?” Sean dipped a hand into their minnow bucket and baited his hook.
“Not if you’re Buck Mulligan.” Liam’s jaw clenched. The man was more concerned with cozying up to city council then with solving a murder.
Murder anywhere was a horrible thing, but murder in Safe Haven felt ten times as bad, at least to Liam.
“How’s the path to becoming chief going?” Sean asked.
Liam shrugged a shoulder. “Not great.”
“Why not? What happened?”
“Don’t bug him about it,” Cash said. “Being chief isn’t the be-all and end-all.”
Even Liam stared at Cash for that one.
“What? It’s not. Money and power...they don’t solve your problems.”
“It’s not the power or the money,” Liam said. “I don’t care about that stuff, but this town is important to me.”
Both of his brothers concentrated on their fishing, but he could tell they were listening. Curious.
“Look, I just don’t want what happened to our mom to happen to anyone else. Ever. I think I’m the person who can fight it, at least in this town. Mulligan isn’t.”
Both of Sean’s eyebrows lifted, and then he gave a slow nod. “Makes sense.”
All of a sudden Cash’s rod arced and line started running out. “Fish on,” he said, and whipped his arm back to give out line.
“Nice job, man.” Sean leaned forward. “Oh, yeah. That a channel cat?”
Cash was spinning and pulling, spinning and pulling. “Come on,” he crooned, “Come on in.”
Liam lifted half up to watch the water. “I really don’t think he knows he’s hooked yet.”
“Feels kinda like a flounder.” Cash tugged some more. “Like a real big flounder.”
The fish was within sight now, and Liam recognized it. “Redfish!”
“Yeah,” Sean said, “that’s a nice little redfish. Who’d have pegged Cash for the first catch? In the marsh, yet.”
“Come on out here, baby.” Cash was netting the fish now, grinning, looking completely different from the high-powered businessman he was.
“What do you think,” Liam asked, “eight, ten pounds?”
“It’s not even the flood tide yet,” Sean crowed. “Redfish loves the tide and the freshwater. I’m going to catch me a bigger one.”
It wasn’t long before Liam got a bite, hooked it and pulled in a fine mullet. Then Cash caught another one. Then they both had to give Sean a hard time, because they all knew he was the best fisherman among them, but he hadn’t had a nibble.
Liam held a cold can of soda to his forehead. The hot humid air, the sun filtered through the bayou’s thick leaves, the fishy smell of his hands and clothes, his brothers’ laughter... Liam wanted to open his hands and grasp it all and hold on.
It was a moment like they’d had when they were teenagers. And Liam hoped they’d still be doing this when they were older than Pudge.
Out here in the low country marsh, you knew that God was in His heaven. And you could at least pretend that all was right with the world.
They fished and joked and talked for another hour or so before they turned the boat back toward Ma Dixie’s place. When they got close, Sean turned off the motor and they just drifted, looking toward the shore.
Pudge still sat in his same chair, and Rocky ran back and forth, chasing Rio. It was good to hear the boy’s happy shouts. For once he sounded like a kid. And Rio was loving it, barking madly.
“Grandfather figure,” Cash commented.
Liam opened his mouth to argue that Pudge was more like a father than a grandfather. But then he watched as Pudge heaved himself out of his chair and hobbled down toward the dock.
He was getting older. They all were.
Out of nowhere, Liam flashed back to the day he graduated from college. To the surprise of everyone, including himself, he’d graduated from UNC with honors. He’d known he wouldn’t have anyone there at graduation, since his foster family had moved down to Florida by then. They’d been older and not in the best of health. Sean was overseas, and Cash was in New York. And it had stung a little to see all the other graduates with their families, but Liam was used to being different and he still felt good. He’d achieved more than anyone had ever expected.
Then his name was called and he walked to the stage and there was crazy loud cheering, louder than for almost anyone else in the whole graduating class. It turned out that Sean took leave and Cash flew in from his hotshot job, and Ma Dixie and Pudge had driven up from Safe Haven. And yeah, Liam might’ve gotten something in his eye that caused it to water a little, but he got it under control. They’d all gone out for a big celebration dinner. During that, his brothers had presented him with a graduation present: a check for his police academy tuition. And Liam had known that even though his family was a little different, it was a family, and he’d felt surrounded by their love.
Now, Liam looked at Rocky, running carefree with the dog, and he thought about how what had happened to Rocky wasn’t his fault. In the same way, what had happened to him and Cash and Sean hadn’t been their fault.
Rocky couldn’t change what his parents did, and he could still become a great person. Liam believed the same of his brothers: Sean and Cash were both good men despite their miserable excuse for a father.
What about him? Could he give himself the same opportunity, forgiveness and grace as he gave to others?
THE NEXT TUESDAY, Yasmin opened the door of the women’s center at lunchtime, thinking she’d eat her sandwich outside, only to discover Rita and Norma standing there, arguing.
“Hey, girls,” she said, trying to infuse some energy into her voice.
That was how it had been with her for the last couple of days: trying to muster energy she didn’t have. A dark cloud seemed to press down on her, making every movement and activity a huge challenge.
In her mind, a continual refrain chanted: schizophrenic, schizophrenic. It was so persistent that she wondered if it, too, was part of the voices that would plague her more and more as her condition worsened.
“We’re here to drag you away from your work.” Rita held out a hand. “Come on, you have some sneakers in there, right? Let’s go for a walk.”
Yasmin tried to smile. “Thank you guys, so much, but I just can’t. I have a ton of paperwork to do.” Even as she said it, she felt a kind of hopelessness descending over her. How could she get everything done? Even now, Rocky was at home playing video games under Josiah’s half-baked supervision. No telling what trouble or conflicts might arise between them. She should really be there. But she had a responsibility to her board of directors and especially to her clients. She couldn’t let them down, even though she was increasingly aware that the job was too much for one woman to do.
“You look awful.” Norma put her hands on her hips. “A little fresh air will make you do better work, faster.”
Probably true. And of course she looked awful. She’d just started experiencing symptoms of a severe and lifelong mental illness.
“We won’t take no for an answer,” Rita said.
They wouldn’t, either. She could tell. “It’s too hot,” Yasmin said weakly. But she waved them into her office and hunted under her desk to find her shoes.
When she sat up, Rita was looking around the room, her face pale, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. “I feel it, more than ever. I’ve been here before.”
Her tone was odd. “Where, in this back office? I don’t think so.” Rita volunteered at least once a week, but Yasmin discouraged volunteers from coming into her office. Partly because there were sensitive records here, but also because she was embarrassed about the stacks of files she never had time to put away.
“A long time ago.” Rita looked around. “In this room.”
“You mean, before you moved here? Did you travel through?”
Norma waved her hand in Yasmin’s direction, a “be quiet” gesture. She touched Rita’s arm, studying her intently for a few seconds. And then she turned back toward Yasmin. “Did this office used to be more central to the center’s operations?”
“I think so, before the church was renovated.” Yasmin watched Rita, concerned. She seemed close to hyperventilating.
“Do you have any old records from the center? Any intake forms, that kind of thing?”
“There are a bunch of files in the basement, but I’m not sure what kind of shape they’re in. We had some water damage a few years ago.” She tilted her head to the side, distress for her friend pushing aside her own worries. “Rita? Are you okay? Do you want something to drink? Want me to look something up?”
Rita waved a hand. “I’m fine. No need to look at old records.” She stood up quickly. “I’ll be outside.” She hurried out of the office.
Yasmin stuffed her feet into sneakers and stood, frowning as she looked in the direction Rita had gone. Rita was always so calm and steady. “Is she okay?”
“Pretty much so,” Norma said, standing up. “But we could all use the opportunity to oxygenate our brains.”
Outside, the warm, humid air pressed in on Yasmin, an oppressive embrace. She pulled her hair up into a high ponytail as the other two women started toward the park, then trudged after them.
After a minute, Rita dropped back to walk beside her, and Yasmin studied her face covertly. What had set her off in the center?
And right on the heels of that thought came her own worry: Would she be able to care about other people once she was in the grips of the disease, or heavily medicated to manage it?
Around her rose the cute cottages and tall Victorians of her hometown, fronted by lovingly tended little yards. Bougainvillea and yellow jessamine lined porches and picket fences, sharing their sweet fragrance. You had to watch your step: most of the sidewalks were buckled up from tree roots, because nobody in Safe Haven was quick to cut down the huge live oaks that lined the streets, providing shade and a home for the lacy decoration of Spanish moss that hung from the branches.
What would it all be to her once her illness got worse? Would she still get that warm, home-base feeling from walking through town?
She wondered whether Josiah still enjoyed the pounding waves and hot sand and open vistas that had drawn him to the beach all his life. Or was his joy damaged by the symptoms of his illness? Why hadn’t she talked to him more about what it was like to experience delusions? She’d been trying to be sensitive, but in reality, she’d just left him to cope with his symptoms alone.
“I’m just plain freaked-out,” Rita said suddenly, breaking into Yasmin’s ruminations.
“Why?” She looked over, concerned.
A muscle jumped in Rita’s cheek. “Yasmin, I don’t tell most people this, but you might as well know that I have amnesia. There’s a whole big chunk of my past that I don’t remember.” She paused, then added, “And I think part of it took place in Safe Haven.”
“Amnesia?” Thoroughly jolted out of her own anxiety, Yasmin studied her friend. “That must be awful! I kind of thought it just happened in books.”
“Nope.” Rita kept walking, staring at the sidewalk in front of her.
“Wow.” Yasmin leaned over and gave Rita a quick shoulder hug, wishing she could alleviate the older woman’s pain in some way. “You seem so, I don’t know, normal and together. I’d never have guessed.”
“I’m a good faker.” Rita’s mouth twisted a little.
“Keep up the pace, guys,” Norma said over her shoulder. “I want to hear all the gossip.”
They both sped up so that they were walking right behind Norma again. “That must be so hard to deal with,” Yasmin said to Rita. “How much of your life is...”
“Gone? Only about the first thirty years.” Rita glanced over at her. “I’m starting to get glimmerings, though.”
“Like what happened in the center.”
Rita nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you think you were a client there?”
Rita shrugged and lifted her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Wow. That must make everything hard.” They’d reached the edge of the town park, but it was deserted enough that they could continue their conversation. Most Southerners wouldn’t venture out in the noontime heat. “Do you remember, like, your parents? Brothers and sisters?”
“Husband? Kids?” Rita shook her head. “None of it, before I found myself in Maine at age thirty.”
“With a common-law husband who was crazy about her,” Norma tossed over her shoulder.
“You’re kidding!” Yasmin stared at the friendly waitress who had such a complicated life story.
“He’d found me around here,” Rita explained. “Which is why, once he passed on, I decided to move back. Only it doesn’t feel like back, most of the time. It all feels new.”
“Do people know? Around here, I mean. Because we have a pretty major sense of history here, and a lot of old people who remember everything that ever happened in Safe Haven. I could introduce you to—”
Rita waved both hands. “No, no. I... I have to take this a little bit at a time. Despite what she tells me to do.” She nodded at Norma.
“Even though it’s basically wrecking her relationship with a good man. Jimmy,” she added to Yasmin. Then she looked at Rita. “What? She’s not going to say anything.”
“I won’t,” Yasmin assured Rita. The fact that Rita and Jimmy liked each other wasn’t exactly news, not to anyone with eyes in this town.
“Don’t you give it another thought,” Rita said. “I know you, Yasmin. You’re the type to worry about other people. But I’m not going to become another problem on your plate. You have enough of your own to deal with.”
“I won’t. It’s just... I care about you, you know?”
“You’re a sweetheart.” Rita pulled her over for a quick side-hug.
They swung along quietly for a few minutes. Her older friends had been right: she felt better from getting out in the sun, and even more, from spending time with friends.
She had a thought: maybe this was what it would be like to have a normal, mentally healthy mother. Someone who’d bully you into taking a walk because it was good for your health. Someone you could talk to, and, as you got older, they’d share their problems with you, too. So you could help each other, or at least give a shoulder to cry on. Younger helping older, older helping young.
Someone who’d be there for you if you got yourself into some big, big trouble, or found yourself with a terrible problem on your hands.
“Speaking of men,” Rita said finally, “how are things going between you and Liam?”
“Must be convenient,” Norma added with a wicked grin, “having him live right there on your property.”
“I wouldn’t call it convenient.” Yasmin slowed, considering Rita’s question. What was her relationship with Liam like? How was it going? Did they even have a relationship?
And if Rita was finding her relationship with Jimmy to be negatively affected by her amnesia...what would happen to any relationship between Liam and Yasmin, when it came to light that she suffered from the same condition Josiah had?
There would be no relationship, that was all.
Tears welled up and her throat tightened.
You knew you couldn’t have a relationship. You’d decided that. You knew this issue ran in the family. You’d decided not to have kids.
But the reality was that when Liam had come back into her life, she’d started to hope. She’d started to care.
If she were honest with herself, she’d never stopped. But recently, since he was almost living with her, since he was helping her with Rocky, since he’d kissed her...she’d gotten attached. Again. Even more.
What was she supposed to do with that?
Her throat felt like a giant vise was constricting it, because the answer was nothing. She could do nothing.
“Hey,” Rita said, putting a hand on her arm, making her stop walking. “You okay? Are things that bad with Liam?”
Yasmin blinked back tears. “He kind of pulled away from me again,” she said. “I don’t know why, but that’s what it’s always been like for us. We’re not going to be a thing.”
Rita looked at her sharply. “I thought you cared about him,” she said. “It sure seemed that way. Do you think he’s too damaged from his childhood to have a relationship?”
“No!” That was an odd thing for Rita to think, and Yasmin frowned at her, then started walking again, this time more slowly, and both Rita and Norma fell into step with her. “That’s not it at all. I just... I have some issues that make it not very smart for me to think long-term with any man. The stuff I told you about before.” She looked off across the greenery in the park. “If I had a relationship, if I thought long-term with any man, it would be Liam.”
There. She’d said it.
If she chose any man—if she could—it would be Liam.
“Okay, look,” Rita said to Yasmin. She indicated a park bench. “Sit down there and talk to Norma. She knows everything there is to know about mental health.”
But Yasmin didn’t feel especially comfortable with Norma, and she didn’t want to confide in her. The woman might have a good heart, but she was brash and abrasive. What harsh thing would she say to Yasmin when she found out the truth about her?
Then again, nothing Norma said could be worse than what Yasmin was saying to herself.
And with these two women, pushy didn’t even begin to describe it. They wouldn’t let it alone until she did what they thought was right.
“Fine,” she said, and sat down on the old green bench.
“I’m going to take a spin around the park,” Rita said. “Back in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“That’s a long time for a spin.” Norma sounded amused. “Or wait. Is this when the guys play shirts and skins down at the basketball court?”
Rita’s cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “Maybe they do. And maybe Jimmy said he’s going to be playing. You got a problem with that?”
Norma lifted her hands, palms out. “No, no. I’m all in favor of love. And of handsome men with their shirts off.”
“You are bad.” Rita walked off toward the basketball courts at a rapid clip.
They both watched her, and then there was a minute of silence. It felt awkward to Yasmin, and she looked over to see if it was striking Norma the same way.
Norma looked perfectly relaxed. But then, Norma had a background in counseling. She was probably accustomed to letting her clients find their own pace.
Yasmin stalled. “I hate to take advantage of your expertise for free. Isn’t this kind of like how everyone goes up to a doctor at a party, and tells her all of their aches and pains?”
Norma cackled. “Believe me, I’ve had my share of people telling me all kinds of extremely private things at parties. But this is different. You’re a friend.”
The words, simple and direct, made surprising tears push at the backs of Yasmin’s eyes. She blinked and swallowed. What was wrong with her? Was it PMS?
And now she felt bad about getting annoyed with Norma. She didn’t have so many friends that she could afford to turn one down, even if Norma’s personality was a little bit challenging. “I think I might have schizophrenia,” she blurted out.
Norma let out a bray of laughter. “You? I don’t think so.”
Yasmin lifted her chin, her good thoughts about Norma fading. “I have like five out of seven of the symptoms,” she said.
“What, on Wikipedia?”
Heat rose to Yasmin’s cheeks. “Yeah.”
Norma shook her head. “People self-diagnose all the time thanks to the wonders of the internet,” she said. “Ninety percent of the time, they’re dead wrong.”
She looked ready to dismiss the whole subject, but Yasmin suddenly didn’t want to. So she didn’t like Norma a whole lot. Who better to confide in, than someone she wasn’t likely to spend a lot of time with in the future? “My brother’s been diagnosed,” she said. “And my mom has some mental health issues, as well. My understanding is that it’s genetic, or at least, that there’s a genetic component. Am I wrong about that?”
The smile slid off Norma’s face. She closed her eyes for a quick moment, then opened them, looked at Yasmin and patted her arm. “I’m sorry. Sorry about your brother, and sorry not to take you seriously.”
“So... Given that and the symptoms I’ve been having...”
“Tell me your symptoms.” Norma’s jokey exterior had vanished, and in its place was the face of a seasoned professional. Even her workout clothes didn’t detract from her intensity.
So Yasmin told her about the voices, and the forgetfulness and depression and confusion. Norma nodded through the whole story, her expression thoughtful.
“So... What do you think?” Yasmin gripped the edge of the bench, the splintery wood digging into her palms.
Norma hesitated, then spoke. “Look, this isn’t my specialty. And it would be ridiculous to make a diagnosis on a park bench. If you’re worried about having any mental illness, you should see a professional in a professional setting.”
“So you do think I have it.” Yasmin had thought she felt the worst she could feel, but now she realized she had only scratched the surface. Because the serious look in Norma-the-psychologist’s eyes had her stomach plunging.
“Actually, I don’t.” Norma tucked a foot under her thigh and turned, facing Yasmin more directly. “Yes, it’s a possibility. And yes, you’re still within the age limits of diagnosis for women. So getting tested would be a good idea.”
Yasmin nodded, lifting her shirt out to let the slight breeze cool her sweaty stomach and chest.
“But I’ve never seen a case where the patient knew, in a lucid state, that he or she had it. People with schizophrenia, their delusions seem real to them. Whereas you’re aware that that voice was a voice, not a real being with authority over your life.”
“But then, if it wasn’t a delusion, what was it?”
“I don’t know. It could have been a dream. Could have been someone playing a trick on you. Your brother and your foster child live with you, right?”
Hmm. Rocky had become her foster child in people’s eyes? Yasmin tested the notion—I have a foster son—and found she didn’t mind it. “Yes, they live with me, but I can’t imagine either of them playing such a mean trick.”
“It does seem strange. It was probably a dream.” Norma nodded decisively. “Listen, I really do think you should see somebody professional. Not because I think you have schizophrenia, but because I think you’re struggling with a lot of things. And depression affects a lot of women. You could be headed down that path, and there are great medications that can help with it.”
“Seriously? You think it’s just my depression coming back?”
“You had it before?”
“Just a mild form, when I was a teenager.”
“Then yes. That would be my guess.” Norma shrugged. “If that. You could be just a little overwhelmed by your life right now. Happens to a lot of people.”
Rita came power walking toward them along the blacktop path, her face pinker than ever. “Should I take another lap?”
“No need.” Yasmin patted the seat beside her, feeling like she was one hundred pounds lighter. Mild depression or simply being overwhelmed, those she could cope with. She’d make an appointment with her doctor when she got back to the office.
But for a professional, Norma, to tell her it was unlikely she had the major mental health issue she’d feared made the whole world brighter and clearer and more beautiful.
Rita perched on the edge of the bench. “I’m not going to pry into what you talked about,” she said.
“Pry away.” Yasmin leaned back and let out her breath in a huge sigh. “She thinks I probably don’t have what my brother has.”
“Oh, honey,” Rita said. She pulled Yasmin into sweaty arms for a quick hug. “That’s what I thought, too, but she’s the professional.”
Yasmin looked over at Norma. “Thank you. I feel worlds better.”
“And you’re going to see someone?”
“Yes, Mom.” She wrinkled her nose at Norma.
The older woman laughed. “I never had kids, but I’ve mothered a bunch of them. Welcome to the family.”
Rita stood up. “If we’re done here, I really need to get home. Need to take a shower and clean up.”
Norma raised her eyebrows. “What’s your hurry? I didn’t think you had anything to do today.”
“Now I do.” Rita gave Norma a pretend glare. “And it’s not your business what it is.”
“Whee,” Norma crowed. “Someone has a date!”
Rita put her hands over her face, laughing. “There is no keeping anything from you. Yes, I have a date with Jimmy.” Her face went serious. “And I have a feeling it’s going to be a make-or-break one.”
As they walked through the sweltering heat, as they parted to go their separate ways, Yasmin’s heart felt full.
Maybe she wasn’t terribly, terribly sick as she’d feared.
And maybe she had a couple of good new friends.