Page 108 of Brain Damage

This will be the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Well, after recovering from a brain injury.

Maybe Jamie’s right. Maybe I do have a good heart. Maybe I’m not just a selfish bitch, like Clark made me think I was.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. And I shake my head.

It’s all that I have to say. I watch Jamie’s face fall, and I just feel so incredibly guilty. Really, I feel like the worst person in the world, even though I’m doing this for him. And I suspect that on some level, he probably knows that I’m doing it for him. I mean, how could I not like Jamie? He’s so great.

He doesn’t try to dissuade me, which is a good thing, because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have the willpower to resist him again. If he kissed me one more time, that would be it. Instead, he just stands up.

“I guess I’m not surprised,” he says.

I’m not entirely sure what he means by that, but he doesn’t say it in a mean way. I can’t imagine Jamie being mean to me the way that Clark was. He’s just not that kind of person.

Once again, I watch Jamie head for the door. Except this time, he doesn’t turn around. “Goodbye, Helmet Girl,” he whispers as he leaves.

75

When Brigid walks into my hospital room, I almost start to cry.

Brigid has been my best friend since we met our first semester of college, when we were randomly assigned to be roommates by the Great Roommate God. To be honest, for the first month, I found Brigid incredibly annoying. She talked way too much, she had way too much clothing and makeup and hair products, and she mostly just seemed like a complete ditz. Plus, she left her curling iron on my desk and it scalded my hand.

Then one night, the two of us went to a party together. We got rudely snubbed by a couple of frat boys who didn’t think we were attractive enough to hook up with that night, which made me feel like I was too ugly to live. The whole thing made me feel awful about myself, but amazingly, Brigid didn’t even care. “Screw them,” Brigid said to me. And the two of us proceeded to get very drunk on Jell-O shots, and spent the entire night giggling together.

I can’t even remember how long it’s been since I’ve last seen Brigid. I’m not entirely sure whether I’m happy, sad, relieved, or angry that it’s been so long since she’s visited. These days, my emotions are sort of a mystery to me.

She looks so familiar to me, with her red hair and slight double chin and the gold chain from her grandmother that she’s worn around her neck every single day I’ve known her. It reminds me of the fact that I’m still the same person I was before. I’m still Charly.

“Charly!” she cries out when she sees me sitting there.

Honestly, I would’ve thought that it would be awkward, considering the fact that I’m sitting in a wheelchair and wearing a giant helmet on my head. But it isn’t. Brigid comes over to me and hugs me for like ten straight minutes. And sometime during those ten minutes, I really do start to cry.

When Brigid pulls away finally, her eyes are red and moist too, which makes me feel slightly less embarrassed about the whole thing. “I missed you so much,” she says softly.

Um, so why didn’t you visit me?

“You look great,” Brigid says.

“I look terrible. Be honest.”

“You don’t look terrible,” she insists. “You just look like… you’re going to go out and play in a game of football.”

That gets a laugh out of me.

Brigid pulls out a bag of presents. It’s mostly food. Cookies and brownies and chocolate. Maybe it’s a good thing Brigid hasn’t been here to visit me sooner.

While Brigid is unpacking my goodies, she tells me about how Chelsea is doing, and updates me on Kitty, who is alive and well, and has been boarding at her place until I’m ready to take her back. While Brigid is babbling on, my mother comes into the room with a glass of apple juice and graham crackers that she got from the kitchen. Recently, I’ve been suspecting that my mother is abusing the free kitchen on our unit. She literally visits that kitchen every thirty minutes when she comes here. But I’m not going to say anything about it.

“Brigid,” my mother says with a smile. “I’m so glad you were able to come.”

“Yes,” I say. And I can’t help but add, “Finally.”

Brigid and my mother exchange a look. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Even though I’m angry, I don’t want Brigid to get upset and not visit again. But you know what? I am angry. Why hasn’t she been here before? She’s my best friend. What sort of best friend doesn’t visit me after I got shot in the freaking head?

“Charly,” my mother says quietly. “Brigid has been wanting to visit you for a long time. Clark has been calling her and telling her that you were refusing to see anyone.”

Brigid nods. “I told him that I was sure you’d want to see me. But he said that if I came, you’d never speak to me again. I didn’t want to upset you, so I stayed away.”

I sit there silently, absorbing this new information. I didn’t think it was possible to hate Clark any more than I already did, but here we are.