Never Really Alone

Chapter Five

On Sunday morning my world fell apart.  Nurse Allemon entered my room right after lunch and told me that my parents wouldn't be allowed to visit because it upset me too much.  I felt as if I had caught fire.  My heart pounded in my ears, the heat crawled into my face and tears burned a trail down my cheeks.  Without even realizing it I began to scream.  It was a high-pitched sound as if a small animal had been caught in a trap.  And that was exactly how I felt.  I had no control over myself.  I just screamed and screamed until finally someone put a needle in my arm and once again everything went black.

Weeks and weeks went by and the autumn leaves no longer clung to the trees, but lay on the ground, dry and brittle beneath a blinding layer of sparkling snow.

I entered the hospital in September and in December, three days before Christmas I finally went home.  Somehow I had convinced everyone that I could no longer see Miranda Jean, this was accomplished with no help at all from her.  Even though she wanted to go home too, the boredom of her surroundings got to her.  At times she made it nearly impossible to pretend she wasn't there. 

She could make herself solid, and on occasion the prankster in her would appear and she would give me a shove or sit in a chair right before I got to it.  More than once she put her hands on my ears so that I couldn't hear.  But I wanted nothing more than to go home, so I dug my heels in and ignored her.  Finally, I convinced Dr. Rudolph that she was gone.  In fact, it was almost true. 

My time with her had been affected and she was not always there when I called for her.  Her disappearance made me feel sad and hopeless as if a part of me had died.

Although my parents tried to make conversation, I was silent on the ride home.  "Sarah Jane, Grandpa Joe is staying with us this Christmas.  He got here this morning, won't that be nice?"

"Hmm," I said.

My mother turned around to the back seat to face me.  "Daddy put up the tree yesterday, but we waited for you to decorate it."  She looked tired and nervous.

"Okay," I said.

No matter what she said I just couldn't get excited about it.  Miranda Jean had been by my side for part of the ride, but then she had vanished.  I felt so alone.  The whole time I was in the hospital and even before that, from the day of Miranda Jean's funeral, no one had believed me.  No one listened.  I felt abandoned and unimportant.  There was a dark cloud of sorrow wrapped tightly around me like black tar that no matter what I did, I couldn't shake.

Finally the car pulled into the drive, we were home.  In the parlor stood the biggest pine tree I'd ever seen, filling the house with the clean scent of winter mornings, just waiting to be dressed with lights, ornaments and tinsel to give it the majesty it deserved.  It was pretty, but I didn't care.  Nothing mattered anymore.  My whole world looked dead and grey.

All I wanted to do was sleep.  But before I took a step I was tackled and hugged by Sousa and Grandpa Joe.  Then Sousa took me by the hand and led me upstairs to my room.  She tucked me in and put the luck charm into my open hand and closed my fingers around it, kissed me on the forehead and said, "Welcome home baby girl."

When I woke, I found everyone waiting for me in the parlor.  "Well, Sarah Jane," said Grandpa Joe, "let's get started with the lights.  I need someone to help me with the tangles."  Every year no matter how carefully the lights were put away, there were always a few knots that would challenge even a sailor.

"Hmm" was all I could say.  But I took one end of the light string and began working to untangle it.  I still hadn't seen Miranda Jean and it was beginning to worry me.  It seemed to me as if my mother and father, Grandpa Joe and Sousa were all being careful around me, afraid that I might ignite and burst into flame or something.  Everyone seemed to be watching me.  When the lights were hung and the ornaments dripped like sugar candy on the tree, I knew I couldn't sit there with them any longer.  "I'm really tired," I said, even though I knew it would be difficult to sleep without Miranda Jean.  "I'm going up to bed."

"Sarah Jane, do you need any help?"  My mother looked almost as bad as I felt.  She looked much older to me now then she did when I went into the hospital.

Instinctively I backed away.  The only person I trusted was Miranda Jean and she wasn't anywhere to be found.  "No," I answered, "good-night."  With that, I quickly went up the stairs and into my room.  After I got into my pajamas and brushed my teeth I sat cross-legged on my bed and concentrated all my energies on finding Miranda Jean.  "Miranda Jean, where are you?  Come back, please," I begged.  "Please, Miranda Jean, come back, I need you."

But there was no sign of her and I didn't even feel her presence nearby.  I kept this up for over an hour, concentrating and calling, with no results.  She was just gone.  I got under the covers and cried myself to sleep.

Unlike the usual routine at home, no one woke me at 6:30 a.m.  I slept right through until 11:00 a.m., and no one made a sound or bothered me at all.  I got up and washed my face and brushed my teeth.  When I was combing my hair, Sousa came in with a breakfast tray, filled with fresh fruit, oatmeal, two biscuits and orange juice.

"Sousa, I'm not sick," I said, "Why are you bringing my breakfast up here?"

"Well, baby girl, your mama told me to let you sleep in and to bring a tray up to you.  How're you feeling today?"

"I feel fine." I said.  "The only thing wrong with me is that no one believes me about Miranda Jean," I hesitated.  "Do you believe me Sousa?"

She took hold of both of my hands and said, "If you tell me you can see her Sarah Jane, then I believe you.  No matter what you tell me.  Now how about coming downstairs and eating in the kitchen with me so's I can have a cup of coffee?"  I reached up and wrapped my arms around her neck and squeezed her tightly.  For the first time since I arrived I felt like I was home.

All that day long and through the night I had willed Miranda Jean to come to me, but, no matter what I did, she wouldn't or couldn't come to me and I didn't understand why.

Christmas morning dawned with the smells of ginger and nutmeg wafting up the stairs.  I put on my robe and slippers and went down into the kitchen.  Sousa was just pulling a large pan of gingerbread out of the oven and there were two still-warm, apple crisps setting on the counter.  But best of all, sitting at the table, just waiting for me, was Miranda Jean.

The smile that left my face weeks ago was back.  I felt so happy I thought I might just float to the ceiling and fly like a bird.  I was so excited that I shouted, "Miranda Jean, where have you been?"

"Shhh!" said Sousa.  "Hush, baby girl, hush!!"

I tucked my enthusiasm in, but I couldn't hide the Cheshire cat grin that lit up my face.  It didn't matter if I had to keep her a secret, at least she was back.  We were together again.  I ate two pieces of warm gingerbread and we scurried back up to my room.  As soon as we were inside I closed the door.  "Where have you been?  I've been so worried."

"Sarah Jane, I've been here all along, but you wouldn't look at me."  Her face looked angry and her voice was like hot, scalding water.

"No.  I've been calling you and calling you."

"All right," she said, "I guess you did.  And I did try to get through to you, but I just couldn't.  I don't know why, but I don't like it."  Then she took my hand and smiled at me.

Right then my mother knocked on the door and told me to come downstairs, because it was time to open gifts.  I was fearful that she had heard me talking to Miranda Jean, so I hurried out of my room and down the stairs.

That day was unlike anything I'd ever experienced.  My parents usually did everything in moderation.  But this year there were so many gifts that you almost didn't notice the tree they were under.  Boxes of every size and shape, wrapped in shiny paper and tied with bows sat there as if to make up for the past three and a half months.  There were new clothes, board games, books and even a wrist watch.  It was overwhelming.

But for me, no amount of gifts would give me back the time I missed with my family and the days that the doctor had stolen Miranda Jean from me.

I did my best to keep her a secret as I opened each gift but it was difficult because she sat right beside me, talking and joking.  "If you wear that sweater with those pants, you can run away and join the circus."  Her silly comments made me want to giggle, but I tried hard to swallow my glee and instead made it appear to be nothing more than Christmas morning excitement.

When the gifts were opened and the wrappings discarded, we all went into the dining room for a great big country breakfast.  My mother and Sousa had outdone themselves, with platters and platters of offerings, from pancakes and waffles, so soft and light they nearly floated off the plates, crisp sausage and bacon, sweet-smelling cherry cobbler, apple crisp and gingerbread that made your mouth water.  Fresh fruit and cream topped it off.  There would be no oatmeal today.  Even the biscuits seemed fluffier than usual.

When everyone had finished eating, my mother stood up and said, "Sarah Jane, it's been an exciting morning and I'm sure you must be exhausted.  Why don't you take your gifts upstairs and have a nap?"  I couldn't believe I was being excused from kitchen duty.  But a nap?  On any other occasion I would have argued with her, but not this day.

"Okay, I am a little tired."  Then I smiled and headed for the parlor to collect my gifts.  Once upstairs I closed the door and we were finally alone.  There was nothing I wanted more and as far as I was concerned, now that she was back it finally felt like Christmas.

The holiday vacation sped by and when it was over it was time for me to return to school, but nothing had really changed.  I tried my best to keep our secret, but just like you can't un-say a bad word, or un-spill a glass of milk, the fact of Miranda Jean was just too big.  And if I was counting on any assistance from her, I may as well wish for x-ray vision or the ability to fly.  Miranda Jean's idea of help was to pull chairs out from under me or cover my mouth when I tried to answer when the teacher called on me.

She was by nature a joker and she just couldn't help it.  It was the only thing she and I ever fought about.  She thought her little tricks were no big deal.  She was wrong.  Which meant that I was right back to square one; appearing as if I was talking and reacting to someone that no one else could see or hear, and that meant back to Dr. Rudolph and the hospital.

All in all, if you totaled all my visits to Dalton Psychiatric Hospital and its electroshock therapy from my first visit to my last at the age of sixteen they would add up to somewhere around four years and seven months.  With every subsequent visit, my relationship with my parents became more and more difficult; particularly with my mother.  I suppose most adolescent girls, growing into their teens had conflicts with their mothers; but throw into the mix a mother who firmly believed that her daughter was seriously, mentally ill and that placed a wedge the size of Montana between the two of us.

I wanted and needed my mother very badly during this time of my life.  She on the other hand, I think, was too frightened that she might do the wrong thing and so she took all of her direction from Dr. Rudolph; and of course all he was concerned about was Miranda Jean.  By this time, he had of course diagnosed me as a paranoid schizophrenic, which of course scared the daylights out of both of my parents.  So there was never any room for the onset and then living through anything close to what could be considered a 'normal puberty'.  Suffice it to say by the time I reached seventeen I was a wayward teen extraordinaire.

I was, of course, still seeing Miranda Jean although not as often.  With the onset of puberty she had backed off some.  I was never sure if that was due to her or to me.  The crowd of kids I chose to run with were the wild kids, the smokers and drinkers.  I found that I could handle my life better with the assistance of a drink now and again.  Hanging around with kids who were risk-takers had an odd way of making me feel safer, or maybe in a sort of reverse-psychology, I had a death-wish.  I don't know.  But I did know that it was easier to deal with home the more often I was away from it.  I couldn't forgive my parents for siding with Dr. Rudolph over me.  I saw it as a betrayal.  Getting drunk eased some of that pain.

Un-typically, my parents never even questioned me about what I did after school or on the weekends.  I think they really didn't want to know, ignorance was easier to deal with, than knowing something unpleasant.  It was a Thursday night when I finally decided to leave.  I had been out with some friends from school and I'd had quite a bit to drink.  It was raining and even though I'd hitched a ride home, I was soaking wet by the time I got there. 

For reasons I'll never understand, instead of going inside, I climbed up into the tree-house where Miranda Jean and I used to play.  It fit two little girls just fine, but I was seventeen years old and tall like my father.  It was a tight squeeze.  The rain was coming down hard and the wind was blowing even harder, I could barely hear myself think, much less speak.  But I didn't care about the wind or the rain or how loud I needed to scream to be heard.  I hadn't seen Miranda Jean in over a month and I was determined to talk to her.  I figured the tree house was the perfect place to find her.

I tried to stand but I couldn't, the place was just too tiny.  So I sat with my legs dangling over the side.  Then I began to holler for her.  "Miranda Jean, you get your ass right here, right now where I can see you!  Do you here me?  Right now, Miranda Jean!  I mean it.  Miranda Jean, do you hear me?!"

The rain came down harder and harder, but it didn't matter.  The only replies were the cracks of thunder, the only answers were the raindrops pelting against the rooftops.  I was stone drunk and I was determined to find my sister, no matter how long it took, no matter how hard it rained or how wet I might get.  Suddenly I felt something grab hold of my foot.  I looked down and in the darkness I saw Sousa.  She was standing on her toes, grabbing a hold of my foot.

"Sarah Jane, you get yourself down from there this instant.  You're gonna catch yourself the death of a cold up there.  You get down here right now!"

I just looked down and shook my head at her.  "Miranda Jean, I am calling you.  Do you hear me?  Miranda Jean, I mean it this time, where are you?"  Sousa grabbed hold of my foot again and pulled hard, hard enough to throw me off balance, hard enough to really get my attention.

"What the hell are you doing?  You're going to kill me, Sousa.  Let loose of me!"

"Sarah Jane, you have exactly five seconds to get down outta that tree...starting right now!"

"Leave me alone!  Can't you see that I'm busy?  Miranda Jean, I'm calling you!"

"Right now, Sarah Jane!  Five, four, three..."

Well, I had practically been raised by Sousa and I knew that tone.  I knew she wasn't going to leave me alone or let me be.  She'd stand there in the pouring rain all night long if she had to, in order to get me out of that tree.  So I tried to extricate myself from the tiny tree-house, but being as drunk as I was, it was more of a joint effort between Sousa and me. 

By the time I reached the ground, she was holding me up and I, for reasons unknown had started laughing and couldn't seem to stop.  Sousa, on the other hand, didn't find any aspect of these events in the least bit humorous.  She finally got me in the house, up the stairs and into my bedroom; where she proceeded to strip off my wet clothes and bundle me into my nightgown and then into bed.  All the while, in my drunken state I bounced between crying, laughing and hollering for Miranda Jean.  Thank God my parents were up in Dalton visiting my Grandpa who hadn't been feeling well.

Finally, Sousa gave up and pulled me into a standing position, dragged me down the hall and into the bathroom and nightgown and all, put me into the bathtub and turned the shower on me.  It was ice-cold and slowly she let it come up to warm and then hot.  The whole time she held my head directly under the shower head, until the laughing and hollering changed to a soft, steady weeping.  The weeping continued until she finally, thankfully turned the water off.  Then she got me out of my sopping, wet nightgown, dried me off with a warm, fresh bath towel and then carefully, tucked me into bed. 

When I at last stopped crying, or thought I had, tears continued to stream down my face, until my eyes closed and sleep took me, with Sousa sitting on a chair next to my bed holding my hand.

When the sun had just begun to paint my room with a blushing pink I woke up to a quiet so still as to be almost deafening.  As I lay there I knew I couldn't stay in that house another day, or even another minute.  There just wasn't anything there for me anymore.  I got up quietly, got dressed, packed some clothes, books, the few pictures of Miranda Jean that I had, the money I had saved up from a couple of part-time summer job disasters, and quietly crept down the stairs and past Sousa's bedroom door. 

I left a short note to my parents saying I wouldn't be back and not to worry about me, and a longer note to Sousa, telling her the same and thanking her for believing in me.  Then I was out the back door and to the bus station before the sun had fully risen.  By nine o'clock I was already one-hundred miles southwest of home.  Aside from an obvious hangover, I felt better and stronger than I had in a long, long time.  I still hadn't seen Miranda Jean, but I wasn't worried anymore.  I knew that she would eventually show up, she always did.

Crossing the country by bus was an amazing experience.  You bought your ticket and got a seat.  But you really got so much more.  Really you got so much more.  In fact, you got whatever you chose.  If you wanted companionship all you had to do was open your mouth and there were plenty of people who would enjoy getting to know you.  If you wanted anonymity, just as easy, you mind your business and I'll mind mine.  If you want a bit of both you can have that too.  Even romance, I saw that happen a couple of times on my way.  We may have even had a couple riders hiding from the law, but like I said, you mind yours and I'll mind mine.  And if you just want to watch the rest of the world go by and be an observer for no more than the price of a ticket, you had that choice too.  What a wonderful way to see the country.

I was more of an observer, but now and again you can't help but talk to one person or another.  Some people are just that way.  They just care a lot about other people and I guess I looked like someone they wanted to care about.  Two older ladies and one man about my father's age insisted on buying my lunch and giving me ten dollars, so long as I would be sure and take good care of myself and call my parents.  I tried to tell them it wasn't necessary, that I could take care of myself, but they insisted.  So, once in Kansas and twice in St. Louis, I called home and told my mother that I was fine and I would call them when I got settled.  All three times I wished I hadn't called.  Each time my mother became hysterical, crying and begging me to come back home, telling me I was sick and I needed to see Dr. Rudolph.  If there was anything she could have said to make me stay away from home that was certainly it.

I finally stopped traveling in Phoenix, Arizona.  Phoenix, because that's where my money ran out, well most of it.  I hitched a ride from an older couple who were saying good-bye to their son and daughter-in-law who were catching a bus to Cleveland.  They drove me into town and actually bought me dinner at a cute little diner called Mom's House.  When we had finished eating, they introduced me to Aggie, the proprietor, and before I knew what had happened I was the new waitress at Mom's House.