The First Councel

She wants me to open up… to pull her close. Just like she did with my dad. I close my eyes and that’s all I see. Without another thought, I reach out and take her in. “Don’t cry,” I whisper. “You don’t have to cry.”

“I-I swear, I never wanted to hurt you,” she says, still sobbing uncontrollably.

“Shhhhhh, I know.” As she collapses against me, I feel the little girl return. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s okay.”

A full minute goes by before we say another word. As she catches her breath, I feel her pull away. She’s wiping her eyes as quickly as possible.

“Want to tell me about it?” I ask.

She pauses. That’s her instinct. “New Year’s Eve, this past year,” she finally says as she sits on her bed. “I’d read that stabbing yourself in the stomach was a great way to kill yourself, so I decided to test the theory for myself. Needless to say, it’s no jugular.”

Frozen, I’m not sure how to respond. “I don’t understand,” I eventually stutter. “Didn’t they take you to a hospital?”

“Remember where we are, Michael. And know your perks. My dad’s doctors are here around the clock-and they all make house calls.” Sending the point home, she taps her hand against her mattress. “Didn’t even have to leave my room.”

“But to make sure no one found out… ”

“Oh, please. They hid my dad’s cancer for ten months-you think they can’t hide his junkie daughter’s suicide attempt?”

I don’t like the way she says that. “You’re not a junkie, Nora.”

“Says the guy I just tried to drug.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I appreciate the thought, but you’re working with only half the information.” Picking at the lace on her pillowcase, she asks, “Do you have any idea why I’m home?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not a trick question. I graduated college in June. It’s now September. What am I still doing here?”

“I thought you were waiting to hear from grad schools.”

Without a word, she heads to her desk and pulls a stack of papers from the top drawer. Returning to the bed, she throws them on the mattress. I take a seat next to her and flip through the pile. Penn. Wash U. Columbia. Michigan. Fourteen letters in all. Every one of them an acceptance. “I don’t get it,” I finally say.

“Well, it depends who you want to believe. Either I’m still holding out for that final grad school, or my parents are worried I’m going to take another crack at myself. Which do you think is more likely?”

Listening to her explain it, it’s not hard to figure out. The only question is: What do I do now? Hunched over on the edge of her bed, Nora’s waiting for my reaction. She’s trying not to look at me, but she can’t help herself. She’s worried I’m going to leave. And the way she’s rubbing the side of her bare foot over and over against the carpet, it wouldn’t be the first time someone’s walked out on her.

I pick up the letters and toss them to the floor. “Tell me the truth, Nora-where’re your other drugs?”

“I don’t-”

“Last chance,” I bark.

Without a word, she looks down at the letters, then over to the slightly opened door of her closet. Her voice is soft, beaten. “On the floor is a can of tennis balls. They’re inside the middle ball.”

I walk to the closet and quickly find the can. Emptying it in my hand, I let the other two balls fall to the floor, then take the middle ball and give it a tight squeeze. Sure enough, like a fish opening its mouth, it spreads wide where the seam is sliced open. Inside is a brown medication vial-there’re a few pills at the bottom and, on top, what looks like a roll of seven or eight stamps, but with yellow smiley-faces on them. That’s the acid. “What’re the pills?” I ask.

“Just some Ecstasy-they’re old, though. I haven’t taken them in months.”

“Months or weeks?”

“Months… at least three… not since graduation. I swear, Michael.”

I stare down at the vial, which is still inside the ball, and let the seam close. Gripping it in a tight fist, I hold it out to Nora. “This is it,” I tell her. “No more games. From now on, it’s all in your control. If you want to be a headcase, do it on your own. But if you want to be a friend”-I stop and stuff the ball in my pocket-“I’m here to help you, Nora. You don’t have to be alone, but if you want to earn my trust, you do have to get it together.”

She looks absolutely stunned. “So you’re not going to leave?”

I once again picture her cradling my dad in her arms. Identifying with what’s missing. “Not yet-not now.” As my words sink in, I expect to see her smile. Instead, her brow furrows in distress. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

She looks at me, her chin down, her eyes completely lost. “I don’t understand. Why’re you acting so nice?”

From the foot of the bed, I move in toward her. “Don’t you get it yet, Nora? I’m not acting.”

Lifting her head, she can’t hold back. Her eyes well up and out comes the smile. The real smile.

I lean in and give her a light kiss on the forehead. “I’m just telling you one thing-if you ever do anything like this again… ”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“I’m serious, Nora. I see any more drugs, I’ll personally put it in a press release.”