“Every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead,” I quoted. “By the same token, every time we describe something as ‘nice,’ something beautiful dies because we didn’t have the courage to make an actual judgment or say what we really think, often due to completely unfounded fears. That’s a Neverland rule,” I explained, raising my index finger.
Neil just sighed.
“Spare me the wordplay. I think you look nice; that’s it,” he answered brusquely.
“Do you really understand what I’m talking about?” I asked, making a face. I didn’t think he did.
“Of course,” he said, his tone sardonic.
“Really?” I cocked a skeptical eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he answered, just to get me to shut up.
“Neil, stop humoring me,” I said irritably. I had figured out his little game.
“Okay.” He shrugged and went on smoking, completely indifferent.
“Oh my God! Quit it!” I exclaimed in exasperation, rubbing my forehead. Trying to talk to him was useless. Now he was agreeing with everything I said just to annoy me.
We fell silent, and the song continued to accompany us for a couple more minutes until Neil pulled up in front of a large building I didn’t recognize.
“Where are we?” I asked him.
“You’ll see.” With the cigarette clamped between his lips, he turned off the car and got out, gesturing for me to follow. Once outside, I shivered in the cold air and retreated into my coat. I shot a glance at Neil and saw that his right hand was shaking as he pulled the Winston, still only half-smoked, out of his mouth and flicked it onto the pavement. He ground it out with his shoe and then turned his golden eyes on me. From the dark expression that had fallen over his face, I knew he was about to tell me something I wouldn’t like to hear, and I mentally prepared myself to face whatever new obstacle he was about to put in front of me.
“This is a private psychiatric clinic operated by Krug Lively and John Keller. It’s the reason I asked you to meet me in New York,” he said coolly. I felt unsettled and wrinkled my forehead in confusion.
“And why are we here?” It might have seemed like a silly question, but I couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell me.
“I pretty much grew up here. I was in behavioral therapy for twelve years,” he answered starkly, and I couldn’t hide my surprise. My head spun at the unexpected confession, and he must have seen it because the emotional distance between us seemed to grow.
“You…”
“Had behavioral disorders when I was a kid…” His eyes fled mine to instead observe the clinic. I was still in shock. I felt like the earth had opened up underneath me while he remained unruffled and motionless, his shoulders rigid. He wasn’t letting me see his pain, but I could sense it. I could feel it under my own skin, like we were sharing one body. “Don’t know what to say, do you? Just like I thought,” he added scornfully, immediately jumpingto the worst conclusion. In reality, I just needed a moment to process what he was telling me. I needed some time.
I had always tried to present myself as strong and willing to fight, but the reality of the situation was disconcerting, even for me.
I was beginning to understand why Neil always tried so hard to push me away, and I suspected that this was another attempt to get me out of his life.
“No, you’re wrong. I’m just—” I started to say, but he took me by the wrist and pulled me closer to him abruptly.
“I have a lot more to show you. Don’t say a fucking word yet. I’m not going to listen until you know everything,” he whispered against my lips, furious. I forced myself to just nod, buckling under the weight of this truth that I may not have been ready to hear. Once again, I felt small and unsure. Unable to be with someone like him. I was the one who had asked to be part of his life, and now Neil wanted to show me just how foolish and reckless that had been. Because what did I really know about what had happened to him?
“Follow me.” He released me and walked toward the entrance of the building with his usual upright bearing.
I did as he said, trying to banish the uneasy feeling I had, but after just a few steps, my gaze caught on a magnificent fountain that had pride of place inside a manicured garden. A dolphin with a luminous pearl in his mouth coaxed a shaky smile out of me. One that disappeared the moment we got to the automatic doors.
Neil and I walked through quickly, and he headed for a chubby woman sitting behind a reception desk. I hung back a few feet and waited for him, looking over the antiseptic atmosphere of the place, characterized by a maniacal attention to every detail. The smell of fresh paint told me the clinic was either new or recently renovated, and it had a lavish, regal look.
I peered around curiously for a few moments before I spotted a sharply dressed man heading right for us. As he approached, I got a better look at him: He wore a very elegant charcoal gray suit tailored perfectly to his slim frame and a white button-down that highlighted his lean chest. He was tall and carried himself proudly; he looked to be in his fifties, and he had the kind of powerful charisma that caught one’s eye immediately.
He was a man of distinction.
“Son,” he said to Neil, by way of greeting. Neil turned to face him and sighed.
“John,” was his only answer.
“What are you doing here? Are you looking for Dr. Lively? I believe he’s leading group right now in the music room,” the man informed us with a friendly smile that Neil clearly wasn’t going to return.
