She smiles. “Right.”
“I’m going to call a friend of mine. He’s a psychiatrist.”
“Thank you.”
I look at her then, really look at her.
This woman has lived in crisis for so long that she speaks its language fluently. She’s carrying decades of knowledge and responsibility that no child should ever have had to learn.
“You’ve been through this before.”
She meets my gaze. “More times than I can count.”
I nod. “Let me talk to her.”
“She’s scared.”
“I know.”
Before I step away, I press a kiss to her forehead.
“Madison?”
She looks up.
“You’ve done everything right.”
She squeezes my hand once, offers a wobbly smile, then goes to be with her family.
As I walk toward the bedroom, I’m already pulling out my phone. I send a quick text to Hudson.
Me:I have a Bipolar I crisis. Off meds. Manic. Family is resistant to commitment. Need a consult and possibly a mobile crisis unit that won’t arrive with sirens.
I pocket the phone and push open the bedroom door.
The room smells like bleach. Donna is sitting on the edge of the bed, her movements fast as she folds a white pillowcase, snaps it straight, then unfolds it and starts again.
“Donna?” I keep my hands visible. “It’s Beckett. Do you remember me? I’m Madison’s neighbor.”
She looks up, and for a second, the mania clears just enough for me to see the woman Madison loves—the woman who is currently drowning in her own mind.
“Beckett,” she whispers, her hands finally stilling. “You thud.”
It’s so unexpected I almost laugh.
“That’s right. I thud.”
She finally puts the pillowcase down and sits with her back against the wall. “You’re here for the baby? We’re almost ready. The light is coming. Can’t you feel the light?”
I sit on the floor a few feet away from her, lowering my eye level.
“I feel it,” I lie. “But even the light needs to rest sometimes. Let’s talk about how we can get you some sleep.”
“You’re a doctor,” she accuses, her finger darting out to point at me. “Madison brought a doctor. She thinks she’s clever. She thinks she can trick the light.”
I push the medical bag away from me, well out of reach.
“I’m a lot of things. And yeah, I went to med school, but I’m not the doctor you’re thinking of.”
