I’d been careful since the social worker took me to her office. I paid very close attention to how she leaned in, when her red lips pinched, and when she scribbled in her book.
I didn’t tell her about the hidden notes or the words on my body. Whenever I opened my mouth to speak about them, my belly trembled. So I said I couldn’t remember things, but my mother made me afraid.
That was the truth.
The social worker decided I needed to be around kids my age, so after closing her notebook, she walked me to the support group meeting.
“I hear you’ve been watching a lot of television today,” she said. “Did you find something you liked?”
This was my new favorite subject. Mother didn’t want to talk about it. She would have prevented me from watching anything after I kissed the boy, but while the tech person moved my wires to a backpack, I kept the nurse button in my hand. I had a weapon.
“Everything,” I said. “Grey’s Anatomyis amazing. They were having a marathon! I didn’t even know about marathons, but I love them!”
The social worked laughed. “Much better to watch them than run in them.”
I had no idea what she meant by that, but I said, “It’s a lot easier than talking to real people. That makes my head hurt.”
“That’s expected,” she said. “You have very little functional memory. If you feel uncomfortable in the group, let the counselor know.”
I knew I wouldn’t. The boy who kissed me would be there. “I’ll be fine.”
Her red lips smiled at that. “I like your spirit.”
We paused outside a door, and she cracked it open. “We have one more!” she called.
“Come in!” said a voice inside.
Four people sat in chairs, but I ignored everyone else when I saw the boy I kissed. I rushed forward. “Boyfriend!”
He jumped up to move an empty chair next to him.
We sat down, although the social worker stayed by thedoor. Her lips pinched as she watched us. That was bad, but I didn’t care. I reached for the boy’s hand and held it. His fingers squeezed mine, and my body warmed over.
I wished I could remember his name. Things had happened too fast for me to keep up.
But I remembered the kiss. It was better than TV. When he did it, I felt perfect inside, like I was sprouting happiness in my body. No trembling. No fear.
I wanted to do it again.
A gray-haired woman spoke. “Ava, I’m Morena, the counselor. Ria just told us that she’s sixteen and plays the flute.” She turned to a boy slouched down in his chair. “Jared, what about you?”
“I’ve had two surgeries already. I’m over it.” He pointed a finger at his head and made a strange sound with his mouth, likepeckow. “No help. Keto. VNS. Four failed meds.”
Ria snorted. “Four failed meds? I’ve had fourteen.”
“This isn’t a contest.” Morena wrote something on her paper then smiled at my boyfriend. “Would you like to take a turn?”
“Sure. I like bowling.” He pointed to his shirt. “And I pretty much live for video games where I get to kill off zombies.”
Bowling. Zombies. I couldn’t picture those things. They weren’t words I knew.
“Very good,” Morena said. “We are all so much more than our diagnosis.”
“Diagnosis?” He grabbed his head with his free hand, startling me. “Is something wrong with me? Am I dying? Should I find Jesus?”
Ria let out a giggle.
Morena smiled. “You have a great sense of humor.”
