بخش 02 - فصل 22

22

Holly walks slowly down the corridor to Room 528, which is all the way at the end. Her head is down, and she’s thinking hard, so she almost bumps into the man wheeling the cart of well-thumbed paperback books and Kindles with PROPERTY OF KINER HOSP taped below the screens.

“Sorry,” Holly tells him. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“That’s all right,” Library Al says, and goes on his way. She doesn’t see him pause and look back at her; she is summoning all her courage for the conversation to come. It’s apt to be emotional, and emotional scenes have always terrified her. It helps that she loves Barbara.

Also, she’s curious.

She taps on the door, which is ajar, and peeps around it when there’s no answer. “Barbara? It’s Holly. Can I come in?”

Barbara offers a wan smile and puts down the battered copy of Mockingjay she’s been reading. Probably got it from the man with the cart, Holly thinks. She’s cranked up in the bed, wearing pink pajamas instead of a hospital johnny. Holly guesses her mother must have packed the PJs, along with the ThinkPad she sees on Barb’s night table. The pink top lends Barbara a bit of vivacity, but she still looks dazed. There’s no bandage on her head, so the bump mustn’t have been all that bad. Holly wonders if they are keeping Barbara overnight for some other reason. She can only think of one, and she’d like to believe it’s ridiculous, but she can’t quite get there.

“Holly! How did you get here so fast?”

“I was coming to see you.” Holly enters and closes the door behind her. “When somebody’s in the hospital, you go to see them if it’s a friend, and we’re friends. I met your parents at the elevator. They said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Yes.”

“How can I help, Barbara?”

“Well . . . can I ask you something? It’s pretty personal.”

“Okay.” Holly sits down in the chair next to the bed. Gingerly, as if the seat might be wired for electricity.

“I know you had some bad times. You know, when you were younger. Before you worked for Bill.”

“Yes,” Holly says. The overhead light isn’t on, just the lamp on the night table. Its glow encloses them and gives them their own little place to be. “Some very bad ones.”

“Did you ever try to kill yourself?” Barbara gives a small, nervous laugh. “I told you it was personal.”

“Twice.” Holly says it without hesitation. She feels surprisingly calm. “The first time, I was just about your age. Because kids at school were mean to me, and called me mean names. I couldn’t cope. But I didn’t try very hard. I just took a handful of aspirin and decongestant tablets.”

“Did you try harder the second time?”

It’s a tough question, and Holly thinks it over carefully. “Yes and no. It was after I had some trouble with my boss, what they call sexual harassment now. Back then they didn’t call it much of anything. I was in my twenties. I took stronger pills, but still not enough to do the job and part of me knew that. I was very unstable back then, but I wasn’t stupid, and the part that wasn’t stupid wanted to live. Partly because I knew Martin Scorsese would make some more movies, and I wanted to see them. Martin Scorsese is the best director alive. He makes long movies like novels. Most movies are only like short stories.”

“Did your boss, like, attack you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, and it doesn’t matter.” Holly doesn’t want to look up, either, but reminds herself that this is Barbara and forces herself to. Because Barbara has been her friend in spite of all of Holly’s ticks and tocks, all of Holly’s bells and whistles. And is now in trouble herself. “The reasons never matter, because suicide goes against every human instinct, and that makes it insane.”

Except maybe in certain cases, she thinks. Certain terminal cases. But Bill isn’t terminal.

I won’t let him be terminal.

“I know what you mean,” Barbara says. She turns her head from side to side on her pillow. In the lamplight, tear-tracks gleam on her cheeks. “I know.”

“Is that why you were in Lowtown? To kill yourself?”

Barbara closes her eyes, but tears squeeze through the lashes. “I don’t think so. At least not at first. I went there because the voice told me to. My friend.” She pauses, thinks. “But he wasn’t my friend, after all. A friend wouldn’t want me to kill myself, would he?”

Holly takes Barbara’s hand. Touching is ordinarily hard for her, but not tonight. Maybe it’s because she feels they are enclosed in their own secret place. Maybe it’s because this is Barbara. Maybe both. “What friend is this?”

Barbara says, “The one with the fish. The one inside the game.”