Page 2 of Pretty and Loco

I shrugged.

“Let me rephrase that. What do you think led you to this very moment? In this facility, speaking to me.”

“I scared people.”

She hesitated for a second, then continued writing.

“Six months ago, you expressed that Brandon would eventually understand that the two of you were meant to be together.” She looked up from the notes with a raised eyebrow.

“I wasn’t in a good headspace then.”

“Do you still believe that?” she asked.

“Nope.” I shrugged.

“Four months ago, you said that his current partner manipulated him.”

I laughed, despite knowing how serious the moment was. “I definitely don’t believe that anymore. He’s a grown man, free to make his own choices, and he did that.”

“Very well. Three months ago, you said that he would realize that you two were meant to be together once you were discharged.”

“I may have still been struggling,” I explained it away.

“Two months ago, you were documented asking the case manager whether his restraining order would expire.”

“Two months ago, I was prescribed a new medication that did wonders for my mental health, Mrs. Jennings. I promise I only asked that to know what the conditions of my release were.” I smiled.

She gave me a dead stare, which I returned for just long enough. I had learned that looking away meant avoidance and too much eye contact meant aggression. I knew she was reading me, ready to see any crack in my demeanor or breathing.

“How do you feel about Brandon?” she asked.

“I wish him well.”

“Do you know where he lives?”

“Nope.”

“Do you know whether or not he’s in a relationship?”

“Nope. None of my concern.”

“Have you checked his social media?” she asked.

“Nope.”

All of that was true. I hadn’t checked his social media, because his was private. His mother’s wasn’t. I wasn’t trying to spy; I just wanted to do a wellness check.

“If he walked through these doors today and said that he made a mistake, what would you say or do?” She asked, this time putting the pen down and looking at me directly.

I knew it. That was my internal answer. It almost escaped my lips faster than I could stop it. Had it, I could have taken off these Nikes and put back on my grippy sock 3000s.

“I would tell him that this chapter of my life has closed, and I don’t care to revisit it.”

We went through a series of questions. We ran down medication management, grounding exercises, and my therapy schedule. I didn’t expect the interview to last as long as it did, but she was thorough.

By the time I had given all of my rehearsed answers, I looked at the clock. It was 12:43 p.m. I was scheduled to be released at 1 p.m. Only seventeen minutes stood between me and my freedom. I had already told my little sister I was being released today. I knew she was probably already in the parking lot waiting for me so that we could go home. I would really lose my shit if I couldn’t go home today. I couldn’t wait to see her; I missed her so much.

When Mrs. Jennings was done writing, she put the pen down and looked me dead in the eye.