Mare Moody - [blank]

With as much courage as I can muster, I walk out. The bags start to weigh down my back and Joseph begins to cry. I try to shush him while the bags slip down my shoulders and onto my wrists. I keep walking. I can't stop now.

I try to pat him but my arms are too heavy with my bag and the diaper bag on them. I push the door open but when I do this, both of my bags fall onto the street. Joseph starts to cry louder. I pat his bottom gently and shush him. I am just thankful that I didn't drop him. I can't get him to stop. I look at him little face and tears rush down my face. Why can't I just have a normal life?

I can. I can have a normal life. I know what I need to do. I know exactly where I need to go.

I hold Joseph firmly in my right arm and throw my bags over my shoulder.

I open the door of the taxi, clutch my baby and step out. I walk straight to her door. I twist the doorknob and walk in. Tabitha sits on the couch, playing with Margaret who is now fully mobile. Margaret runs to me and hugs my legs.

"Aunty Nana!" She calls out. Her big smile radiates on her face.

"Hey, bug," I smile back at her.

Tabitha walks to me, confused.

"What's up?" She grabs Margaret and holds her tightly.

"Can you watch Joseph for a bit?" I ask. "I'll be back soon."

I hand over Joseph and look at him in her arms. She looks so natural as a mother. She is everything I wish I could be. It is not even a jealously. It is simple a deep seeded wish. I would never take it from her but rather share it. I put down the diaper bag at her feet.

"Yeah, sure," she says.

"Thank you," I plead. "You are my savior."

"No problem." I hear her say as I turn back without another glance. I march out like a soldier in the battle of my happiness. I walk out and get back into the taxi. I told him not to drive away because I knew the temptation would dangle in front of me and I knew I wouldn't want to leave.

"St. Joseph's Hospital," I say to the driver. This not the place I want to go but the place I need to go.

As the driver hits the gas pedal I feel immediate cold feet. I just want to go back to my son and cuddle him one last time. I hope this isn't long. I hope life can resume and I can be happy. But to be happy, I have to be mentally happy.

The taxi zips through the crowded streets of my beloved city. Even though it treated me like dirt, I know it will always be in my heart. Nothing can stop that. I grew up on these streets taking long walks along the skyscrapers with my mother, tugging on her hand to bring me on yet another Duck Tour. She would smile and shake her head. Such grace, such poise. Now, I have to leave behind all of my emotions, memories and apprehension. When I look at my sons face, I see the potential for a happy life. He is my inspiration for every little thing that I do. I want to be his inspiration. I know that this goodbye is the only way to the greatest hello.

The car stops and it stands before me. I don't even look up at it. I keep my head down and open the door of the taxi. The sun beats down on my face. I feel my faith soaring through my brain. I know this is the right now thing to do. I am simply trying to convince my feet to walk forward. I had the fare to the driver and step out onto shaky terrain. I keep the faces of those who love me at the forefront of my conscious. They are the gravity in my atmosphere. They keep me grounded, awake. I walk into the front entrance. The front desk is so daunting.

I walk up and say the only words that my brain can muster.

"Can I see Dr. Simmons, please?"

The nurse looks up at me with a perplexed expression.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but I was at the psychiatric hospital a few months ago and I need to speak with him about something."

It feels harder than I thought it would to tell someone that I was admitted to a mental facility.

"Just take a seat and I'll call him down," she says, grabbing for the phone.

I turn and sit in a waiting room seat. I never wanted to be put into this position. My having to wait for him just makes this so much harder. I look around, trying to find a distraction from my brain. The inside of the hospital is painted an inviting shade of blue. White trimmings are wrapped around the interior. I look up at the ceiling. It is so long that I can't even see the furthest tile. I can only assume that the tiles exceed one thousand. I close my eyes and breath in the clean air.

"Ms. Henderson?"

I look up and Dr. Simmons stands at the mouth of a back hallway. He has a faint smile on his face and frankly, he looks hopeful.

I stand and walk to him.

"I had my son," I tell him.

His smile spreads and he looks at me with a sad mixture of happiness.

"That's wonderful," he says. "He is healthy?"

"Yes," I say. "His name is Joseph."

"Ana," he looks into my eyes. "Why are you here?"

"I want be admitted," I say curtly. "I need to get better, for my son."

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"Yes."

"Follow me."

He brings me through the hallway and up through until I see the familiar tiles of the wards floor. He traces the hallways as I once did. We walk in tandem. One foot in front of the other. Towards a better future.

We pass my old room. The green paint still peeling from the rusty metal door. I smile sadly. He keeps walking until his office comes into view. He opens the door. We walk in and I see the old furniture still strewn across the floor. For only three days, this place made a huge impact on me.

He walks through and into his main office. He sits on his chair and gestures for me to sit on the couch. I awkwardly shuffles over and feel the nostalgia erupt as I sit.

"So, I don't think you should be admitted," he tells me. "But I do think you should go on medications."

I am taken aback by his response.

"You don't think I should come back?" I ask.

"No, I think you have gotten all you can out of the program," he says.

"Oh…" I wasn't expecting that.

He takes out his clipboard. Usually I would know what this means but now it just confuses me. He pulls a pen out of jacket pocket and scribbles on the paper. He tears it off and hands it to me.

"I want you to start regular appointments with me at my practice," he says. "And I'd like to give you the prescription that I think will work for you."

I take the slip of paper. It has an address scrawled on it that is barely legible.

"What pharmacy do you go to?"

"Huh?" My eyes are glued to the address. I can stay with my son but still get the help I need. This is the perfect solution.

"What pharmacy do you want your prescription to go too?"

"I can stay with my son?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says with a chuckle. "Now what pharmacy should this go to?"

"Um," I swallow heavily. "Just the one around the corner."

He scribbles on yet another piece of paper. This time, he smiles.

"I'm glad you came to me, Ana." He rips off the sheet of paper and places it on his desk. His grin shines back at me.

"I am too." I hold the address in my hand as gently as I hold Joseph.

"Go fill that as soon as possible and I will see you in a week at that address," he tells me. He stands up and opens the door, allowing me to exit.

I get off of the couch with caution. Is it really this easy?

"So, I will get better?" I ask. "With just this?"

I walk towards the door.

"The pills won't work immediately but management is the plan."

And with that, I walk out of the office. Once and for all. I walk down the hallway, holding the slip in my hand. It feels so surreal to know that all this time, it was that easy. I pass my old room and reach out for it. I brush my hand along the door. It opens when I do. A girl stands before me with bright red hair. Her facial structure resembles mine but there is something slightly different about it.