The Happy Treatment
Chapter 11

I put my phone down. I’ve probably been out here sitting in my car for an hour, having to pause while reading to wipe away the tears in my eyes that make my vision too blurry to read. I throw up a pathetic, weak wall of numbness in my mind, trying to push back all the emotions I feel. I get out of my car and slam the car door shut, walking up to the front door and entering the house.

Mom is sitting on the couch watching TV. She gets up immediately once she sees me enter through the door.

“Are you okay?” she asks in concern, taking a step towards me.

The pathetic wall holding back the emotions in my mind breaks. I drop my backpack, car keys, everything I’m holding, including myself. I fall to my knees and weep.

Mom rushes to my side and joins me on the floor, wrapping her arms around me, but I can barely feel her.

“I’m sorry, Honey,” she whispers to me, holding me tight. I scream and sob, burying my face in my hands, and Mom holds me patiently.

I stay like this for what feels like hours. I have nothing I can say, nothing I can put into words, no thoughts in my head I can organize at the moment, and Mom knows it, so she doesn’t ask me anything. She gives me the gift of simply weeping, and not having to do anything else. She’s silent, and she stays by my side for as long as it takes.

All I can do right now is weep for my best friend’s wounded soul.

:) :) :)

I wake up to the faint chirps from birds I hear outside. Mom had protested a bit at first, but eventually let me rest and stay home from school today after last night.

I had tried to cut my arms for the first time in months, and I’m surprised I’ve even lasted this long with just how the past few days have gone, but Mom stayed by my side all night. She had walked me to my room eventually late in the night, and had stayed with me until I fell asleep.

Once I fell asleep, I had a nightmare, but I didn’t want to wake up from it. What’s the point of waking from a nightmare when what you wake up to is worse than the nightmare?

Today is the day I see Eva, or what’s left of her at least. I’m not ready, not even close, but I know I’ll never be ready, and the longer I wait, the harder it’ll be to see her.

Once I make it down the hall to the kitchen, Mom is already off to work today, riding with her co-worker. Normally this would be a day where she drives her car and her co-worker rides with her, but after arranging to switch a day, Mom left her car here for me, making me promise I’ll try to see Eva today.

I take my time making breakfast, though I’m not hungry, just stalling. I’m not sure exactly when Eva gets home from the hospital, but I’m not texting Zophie and definitely not Eva to ask.

Hours go by, and I spend my time sitting in the kitchen looking out the window and sometimes walking around the house as if I don’t know what to do with myself. School has been let out by now for sure.

I have to leave at some point to see her. I know that. I open my phone a few times to look through text messages, considering if maybe I should text Zophie after all. Maybe I could ask if she’s visited her at the hospital these past few days and if there’s anything I should be warned about, or maybe I could even ask if she could accompany me while I talk to Eva, thinking that it may be less painful to have someone with me. I don’t know. I just would rather talk about doing it rather than actually doing it, rather than actually facing Eva.

As time goes by, I sit on the couch in the living room covered in blankets for comfort. I grow more anxious and depressed in this empty, lonely house the longer I stay here thinking. The more I stay here, the worse scenarios pop into my head about what could happen when I go see Eva. I jump up from the couch feeling the cold world hit my skin once the blankets fall off of me. I force myself to grab the car keys and get in the car before my mind can stop me, and to make sure it’s harder for me to go back inside, I text Zophie, telling her I’m on my way now. I start the car and drive. I’m not ready for this. I’m not ready for this at all, yet here I go.

:) :) :)

I make it to Eva’s neighborhood and find it’s still the same. I catch a glimpse of Owen turning the corner as he does his usual walk through the neighborhood, the houses are nice and big, most with pathetic yards sitting in front of them. A few dogs sit in the yards and some walk around with their owners on the sidewalk. When I pull into Eva’s driveway, her house looks the same too, and it brings chills down my spine, knowing it’s not the same anymore despite its normal look. I take a moment to study my surroundings before getting out of the car. The yard is beautiful, as usual, thanks to Zophie, and the house seems to be its neat and fancy self. Eva’s car is parked in the usual spot in the driveway, and Mr. Straus’s car sits next to hers, while Risa’s must be out at work or maybe parked in the garage.

I’m sure Eva must be home by now. I rest my head forward onto the steering wheel and close my eyes. I take a deep breath. I have to go in, whether I’m ready or not. My friend is in there, and she may not be all there, but she’s still my friend and I have to see her.

A knock on my car window startles me and I look up. Zophie stands outside my car with concern written across her face.

I roll my window down, “Hey,” I say weakly.

“Hey,” she says, “you’ve been out here for a little bit.”

I look at the clock on my radio and see it’s been a bit longer than I expected. “Oh, sorry. Just… you know.”

Zophie nods in understanding, “Yeah. I know.”

“How is she?”

Zophie shakes her head, not sure how to answer. She pauses for a bit before responding. “Different,” she says. She leans her head on my car door, “So, you gonna come inside?”

“I guess so.”

Normally Zophie would respond to that with something like “You guess so? Did you just come here to sit in our parking lot?” but she was silent. She looked too tired, and there were dried cuts on her arms that seemed to look recent. They both shared their dad’s eyes, so her blue eyes looked like Eva’s, yet in this instance they seemed to be exact replicas with the depressed feature filling the normally bright blue color that Eva often used to have.

I get out of the car and slowly walk up to the house with Zophie. When we enter through the door, everything looks the same from the inside as well, though it’s disappointing, since nothing feels the same. The house is quiet, and I feel almost afraid to make a noise. Even Lavvy is quiet as she greets me, which is a first.

“She’s upstairs in her room,” Zophie says, and begins to walk back to her own room.

“Wait,” I say. She turns, yet I find myself not knowing what to say.

“Take your time,” She says, yet not in a normal, hostile, Zophie-like way she usually would. This was genuine and sincere.

“I - Anything I should be prepared for? Anything I should know?”

“She’s Happy,” Zophie says simply, and turns back to make it to her room.

I look up from the bottom of the stairs, staring at the tip of Eva’s shut door I can see. I take a deep breath, and force myself up the stairs until I reach her door.

I hold my hand up to knock, wishing I could turn around and never open this door again.

“Eva?” I say shakily, as I knock once. I hear rustling from the other side and I gulp. The door opens and there she is. She looks the same, minus her unbrushed hair and the plastic smile she wears on her face.

“Cindy!” She says excitedly. I sigh heavily, feeling tears try to reach my eyes. I didn’t realize just how much I missed her until I saw her standing in front of me. I take a step in and hug her tight. She hugs me back, and this hug is not what I was expecting. Her usual warmth is gone. She’s cold and clammy and I feel as if I’m hugging a stranger. I wince and let go of her sooner than I planned.

“How are you feeling?” I ask emptily.

“Oh, I’m all better,” she says, “I’m all fixed now! I’m a little tired from the surgery but I’m resting.”

I nod, not sure what else to say now. I look over and notice a single potted plant by her window.

“Zophie get you a plant?” I asked, pointing at it.

“Oh, yes!” She walks over and plays with the leaves as if to show me, “She named it Eva for me, ha! And she’s so sweet. She always keeps her plants all crowded in her room, but this one, she said I could keep in my room since we live in the same house and she can come in my room to water it. How sweet!”

“Ah,” I say, remembering from Eva’s letter Zophie’s morbid yet peaceful reason for having plants. As Eva’s head turns to look at the plant, her black stitches from her procedure on her head stick out through her blonde, straight hair, making it quite noticeable from behind. I grimace at the sight.

“So when do you get your stitches out?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation light.

“In about a week. Until then, I’ll be doing deep breathing exercises I was taught to do in the hospital and I have some antibiotics to take. Then I’ll be all good to go back to school! Isn’t that so simple? That’s all I really have to do!””

School. I’ll have to sit next to her in English for the rest of the school year.

I set my keys down on her desk, next to her long letter she wrote me scattered out.

I sit on her floor and lean against her bed as I normally do. She plops next to me, sitting farther away than she normally does. We sit for a while, yet the awkward silence we used to not have is now present.

“Cindy!” Eva says out of nowhere. I turn my head to her I see she’s on her phone, “Did you hear about the bombing at one of the Happy Mind treatment clinics? Insane!”

“I haven’t gotten on any social media today,” I say plainly.

“Wow!” Her responses seem limited.

“I have to post about it!” She clicks the share button on her phone to share a post and begins typing, “This is awful! Something should be done!”

“What should be done about it?” I ask her.

She pauses, then answers, “Something!”

“Okay,” I say as I sigh. She’s gone, I think to myself, but I might as well have thought it out loud. She looks back down on her phone and continues to scroll through posts. “Oh!” She says, remembering something, “Today is a wonderful day, we have cookie dough in the fridge! Let’s go get some, I haven’t eaten in forever.” She stood up and began walking downstairs before I could respond. I stood up too and followed after her, taking my time.

I feel numb.

Downstairs, Eva grabs a roll of pre-made cookie dough out of the fridge and throws a few circles on a pan. I see movement outside the window and look to see Zophie outside with Lavvy, looking at her plants and trimming the bushes.

“I’m going to go outside for a moment, Eva,” I say as I head towards the front door.

“Okay, have fun!” Eva says while preheating the oven.

I walk outside and feel the fresh air hit me as I take a deep breath.

“Need a break already?” Zophie says as Lavvy runs up to me for pets.

I nod.

“What’s happened so far?”

I shook my head, “Nothing,” I said depressingly, “Absolutely nothing. I hate it.”

“Yeah.”

We’re silent for a bit, both thinking about the same person inside making cookies.

“I just wanna go off on her,” Zophie says, pausing as she’s about to trim another twig.

I look down, “What do you even say to her now? It wouldn’t make a difference,” I say quietly.

Zophie pauses, almost as if tears will escape if she talks. “I don’t know,” she whispers and turns from me to continue trimming the bushes.

There’s long pauses between each of our responses. “How’d things go with you and her when you first saw her like this?”

Zophie wipes her eyes, “I haven’t even really talked to her yet. I just brought her plant upstairs and told her I’ll water it since she’d just let it die now if she took care of it. Then I heard one single stupid fuckin’ ‘Oh! Thanks so much, you’re such a sweet little sister, oh my golly fuckin’ gee!’” She spoke with an over exaggerated squeaky voice as she mimicked Eva. “...Just how… How could she be so fucking stupid?”

“Did you read the letter she wrote?”

“Yes,” she says as if she knew that question was coming up and puts her hands on her head.

“I wish she would’ve just talked to me.” I mean every word as I speak, but I feel so numb my words feel hollow.

“I do too.”

We’re quiet for another long pause as we watch the street and the occasional car go by.

“It’s hot out,” Zophie says, breaking the silence again, “I want to go in there and get a drink, but she’s in there.”

“You know you live with her. You can’t avoid her forever.”

“I mean I can, actually. If I don’t acknowledge her, she’ll probably learn not to acknowledge me, and we both know it won’t bother her a single bit so why is it so wrong if I do that?”

“I don’t know, Zophie,” I said annoyed, “Probably ’cause she’s still your sister and she’s hurting -”

“She’s not fucking hurting anymore, Cindy. She ‘fixed’ that.”

“You and I both know she’s not ‘fixed’ though. She’s hurting and you know that, she just doesn’t have the emotions or ability to show it anymore.”

“What does that even mean?” Zophie grew annoyed.

“It was in the letter, Zophie, you can see how much she was hurting, so she still is. She’s not cured or fixed and you know that, you just don’t want to actually say it out loud because then you’ll feel worse about not noticing when she needed help the most and there was no one there for her!”

Zophie’s eyes welled up with tears and her eyes started to glisten, yet her face was set in a look of disgust.

“Shut the hell up, Cindy,” she said quietly. She pushes past me and opens the front door walking in, Lavvy following her close behind. I stay outside until I hear shouting from inside. “EVA, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??” I hear Zophie yell. I step inside and see Eva sitting at the table eating a cookie. She pauses, looking at Zophie with the cookie half way in her mouth, then I notice the kitchen floor behind the counter near the oven. Fresh, gooey cookies straight from the oven stick to the floor, chocolate chips smeared into the tiles, and a pan with only a few cookies left sits in the middle of it. Zophie runs to the behind the counter and rips a few paper towels up and wets them under the sink.

“Zophie, it’s not that big of a -” I’m cut off when I see Zophie run to Eva instead of the mess on the floor. A large section on her arm is burned and blistering.

“How much of a dumbass do you even have to be to burn yourself that bad making cookies? And on the arm??” Zophie grabs Eva and presses the wet paper towels on her arm, Eva seeming oblivious to the situation. She winces slightly at the paper towels touching her arm.

“What did you do, Eva?” I asked, more stunned than angry like Zophie.

“It’s okay, I’m great!” Eva says, taking a bite of her cookie while Zophie holds her other arm.

“How did you manage to do that though, Eva?” I ask again.

“I could only find one oven mitt.”

“So having one oven mitt made you burn your arm?” Zophie says, frustrated.

“No, just my brain must have turned off! Whoops!” She laughs.

“Stop. Laughing. I’m already sick of it,” Zophie says through her teeth.

“Eva,” I say firmly, but trying to be nice, “Just walk us through how you burned your arm.”

“I just took the cookies out with the oven mitt, but I’ve been so tired and out of it they were a bit heavier than I remember so I switched hands to close the oven and put the pan on my arm instead of holding it with one hand where I could drop them easier. Turns out, I dropped most of them anyway! Isn’t that crazy!”

Zophie groans dramatically and loud. “Fuck, Eva,” she says, “You should’ve just talked to us!”

“Sorry! Didn’t want to bother you guys having your conversation outside!”

Zophie sighs and puts her head down on Eva’s shoulder. She wasn’t talking about the cookies or the burn. Her poofy, curly hair covers her face, but I can tell she looked mentally drained and done.

“This wouldn’t have fuckin’ happened if you just talked to us,” her voice is cracking and shaky, and she’s no longer yelling. I have a feeling she’s starting to cry. She holds Eva’s arm tightly with the wet paper towel.

“It’s all good! I’ll be fine having you here to take care of me! Look! My arm is already feeling better thanks to you!” Eva says cheerfully.

“I should’ve been there to take care of you before it was too late,” Zophie is quiet and her voice turns to a shaky whisper. I walk over and kneel down next to Zophie. “Zophie,” I say carefully and touch her shoulder. She pulls away and looks back up, violently wiping her tears like she’s mad at herself for crying. She gets up and walks swiftly to her room and slams the door shut.

Eva and I are quiet, and I take Zophie’s place and sit next to Eva. I put my elbows on the table and lay my face in my hands.

“She’s such a sweet sister!” Eva says. I don’t respond for a while, and I keep my face buried.

“You should’ve just talked to me, Eva,” I say quietly.

“What’s wrong, Cindy? It’ll be okay, cheer up!” Eva says, as if she’s being run by a tape recorder.

Those last two words. Cheer up. They broke me further. I squeeze my eyes shut and I ball my hands into fists, grasping at pieces of my hair. My best friend is gone. She’s just a stranger now. Cheer up. Things have to go back to how they used to be, where I feel alone, depressed, and far away from even my closest friend. Cheer up. I feel my heart collapsing in my chest, broken beyond repair. Cheer up. I feel my world has been shattered. Cheer up. Just cheer up. It’s that easy.

I slam my hands down on the table and look to face Eva and her poor, burned arm. She’s right in front of me, yet I don’t feel her presence like I used to. I don’t feel like she’s actually there, like if I stuck my hand out, my hand would go right through her. All I see is a ghost of who I loved and cared for dearly.

She’s gone.

Eva is gone.

The realization never felt so real until now. Now that I see her, right here in front of me. Now that I see that she’s nothing more than a broken ghost.

Tears roll down my face, and I don’t bother wiping them away since it won’t make a difference.

“We used to never tell each other to cheer up,” I told her hoarsely. She looked at me with the stupid smile that Ryker had, as if she’s confused but can’t let the conversation get too deep, so she just smiles.

“You thought you had to ‘fix’ yourself for everyone, Eva, but no one whose life you were trying to make easier - they’re not fixed. No one’s naturally happy all the time so why should they expect you to be? Why did you beat yourself up so much for something that was wrong with you that you were desperately trying everything you could to be better? Fuck, Eva.” I’m not sure how much longer I can talk to the point where she can understand me through the crying, but it doesn’t matter. She won’t understand what I’m saying either way. I give myself a few minutes to cry, while Eva sits next to me as if on pause.

“You should’ve just talked to me,” I whisper, knowing if I speak any louder my voice will crack, “Shit, you should’ve just talked to me. That’s why you did this to yourself! Because you let yourself go through a battle alone and no one is ever going to turn out completely fucking okay if they fight alone.”

I throw my face into my hands again, feeling pure loneliness with Eva next to me. I hate myself for crying so much in the past few days.

“And the worst part is,” I cry, “is that right now, I see you as a stranger, and the Eva before this is the girl I know and love, dearly.” I pause to sniffle, “But one day… you’re not going to be a stranger anymore, ’cause I’m going to keep seeing you and your stupid, fake smile that makes me more depressed each time I see it. I’m going to keep seeing you and checking on you even though you don’t need checking on anymore, but I promised you I’d always check on you. I promised you I’d always be here for you. The more I do that the more I’ll get used to you. The more I see you the farther away the Eva I used to know will be. One day, you won’t be the stranger anymore, but the girl I used to know and love will be.”

I cry a bit more, and Eva sits with a straight face, kind enough to take the fake smile away at least.

“You know,” Eva says, “We have some cookies left still on the pan! Maybe that will help?”

I scoff, “You used to get so excited when I’d open up to you. Now, where are you?” I ignore her offer of cookies, the most help she’s capable of giving right now.

I take some time to calm down, then Eva tells me where the first aid is and I grab bandages and healing cream. I remove the moist paper towels and try my best to rub the healing cream on her arm without hurting her.

“You’d never let me do this to you!” Eva laughs.

“I sure wouldn’t,” I responded, rubbing the cream in. I grab the bandages and wrap them around her arm, hoping I’m doing this right. I find myself almost wishing she had done this to herself on purpose, because then, there would be hope that she still feels something, anything but the fake sounding happiness.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” I said quietly.

“Save me? You did save me the best you could, Cindy. You’re helping me out right now!”

I sigh, “Not talking about the cookies but it doesn’t matter to you anyway.”

I finish bandaging her arm and hand her arm back to her.

“Good as new!” Eva says.

I stand up, stretching my legs. Outside, the sun begins to set. I warm up one of her usual microwavable dinners for her so she won’t grab the container without a pot holder and burn herself again. I sit across from her while she eats, thinking about how she used to complain about eating alone every meal that took place at home. She doesn’t care now, but I stay with her anyway while she eats.

We don’t talk, and I let her eat in peace, finished with throwing my thoughts at her for the day. When she finishes, I stand up from the table and see it’s officially night.

“I’m going to go home, Eva,” I say.

“Oh, okay. Let’s go get your keys upstairs.”

We walk upstairs and into her bedroom. I grab my keys next to the scattered letter and pause. “Can I take this with me?” I point to the papers on her desk.

“Of course!” Eva says, “It is for you after all.”

I gather up the papers together, being the last known artifact of the Eva I used to know. “Thanks,” I say, and I head downstairs. When I reach the front door I turn around as usual.

“Bye, Ev -” I pause. She’s not following behind me to hug me goodbye as usual. I look upstairs and see her bedroom light still on. She didn’t walk me out. The house is dark and cold with the AC on. It’s quiet, and I feel as I did all those months ago. Alone and cold. I open the front door, make it to my car, and drive home in the dark.

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