Never Alone

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"Are you serious?" Damien asked in disbelief. We were standing in the lobby as a motor home pulled up. "That's how we're going to get there?" He turned around and stared at Dr. Crimm.

"It'll be fun." Dr. Crimm stepped up to the doors and the woman at the reception desk pressed the button which unlocked the doors for us. We walked down the steps and approached the RV. "We won't be back in time to sleep here so this is the solution. You guys can move around inside, watch TV, and go to the bathroom while we drive, and tonight we can sleep in here." She patted the door with her hand and then popped open the metal handle. Three steps unfolded from beneath the door.

I thought about the old photo we had at home of my mother as a young child, sitting outside a motor home on a summer vacation. It hadn't been nearly as big as the one in front of me, but for some reason the idea of experiencing something similar to what she had made guilt weigh heavily on my shoulders for the distance I'd let grow between us. I hated feeling crowded so I waited to be the last one to climb aboard. When I stepped up to where Dr. Crimm was standing at the bottom of the steps, she stopped me before I could go inside.

"I'm going to ride up front. The bedroom in the back has a sliding door. Tonight when I tell everyone to get ready for bed, claim that room. I've had a lock installed on the backside of the door. You and the other girls can sleep there." She took a step back, giving me the space I needed to climb inside. Only I felt like I couldn't.

"I wish I could climb up there as easily as Aideen and Shima." I hadn't meant to say it out loud, but I knew Dr. Crimm had heard it. I faced her, hoping she could see that I wasn't a loser or some wimp who had given up on everything. It was the opposite. I tried so hard to be normal I was exhausted. I only gave up when I couldn't go on any further.

"It took me four years. The first one was the hardest. The second one didn't get much easier. I used to stick Post-it notes with the names of heroes I'd read about to the wall above my bed. I needed little reminders that not all people were bad." She smiled at me as I listened to her confession. "I started taking them down the third year. One by one. I'd memorized their names and didn't need them there to remind me of what I already knew."

"What was that?"

"There is far more good in this world than evil. You just have to look beyond what happened to you." Her expression was hopeful. "Tomorrow marks the tenth year I survived. It's not a date I celebrate, but that fourth year I realized I wasn't ever going to forget it. I could dread it every year it came around, or I could look at it from a different perspective."

"I don't think I'll ever be able to," I confided. I'd never feel settled on that date. How could I have done that? I imagined I'd know it for the rest of my life. It would always be this dark cloud hanging over my head and I wanted it gone. Only just like the fluffy white clouds above us in that moment, I was powerless to make them move. The only way to escape was to end my life.

"I didn't think I could, either," she said and tilted her head as she watched me wipe a tear from my cheek. "But you'd be surprised at what you're still capable of."

The inside of the motor home was beautiful. The cabinets were crafted out of a dark wood. The counters were smooth and void of dings and scrapes. The boys quickly found their way into the back bedroom, which had a closet containing a large embedded screen. They had their choice of three consoles to play on. Of course, Virtual Now was an option, but there were also two other systems that were competitors of the company.

Shima and Aideen sat down on one of the two couches facing each other. I sat on the other. I made sure the letters in my back pocket didn't fall out. Dr. Crimm climbed into the front seat. She wasn't a large woman, but sitting in the driver's seat of that huge vehicle made her look very tiny. She put on her seat belt and then turned to talk to all of us.