The College Spreads: Rebekah and Rhett

It’s a bit over a week before Rebekah is allowed visits, but at least they cleared her for daily phone time after a couple of days. She sounds… better. Not good, but better. Better than being frozen on the floor holding a knife at her wrist is a pitifully low bar, but it’s something. And you cling to that like a life raft in a storm. She’s been subdued each time you talked. You asked her about it once. She said something about medication, something about setaralin and hydrozizane or something. You’re pretty sure you aren’t remembering the names right, but it’s not like you’re the one who has to know them. You just need to know she’s okay.

Finally, on a bleak Thursday afternoon, you head to the hospital to see her. Your mother drives. You argue with her about that at first, but when she insists, telling you that you need someone to look after you when you’re under this much stress you reluctantly agree.

She pulls into the hospital parking lot and finds a slot near the entrance. After putting the Oldsmobile in park she turns and gives you a grim smile.

“They won’t let me in,” she says. “They’ll only allow one visitor at a time on a locked unit. That’s pretty much standard. You likely won’t get any privacy, not right now. They’re monitoring her, making sure she’s safe, but at least you get to see her.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you say.

You open your car door and step out.

“Wait,” she says, “Leave your phone. Actually, leave anything else you have in your pockets too. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking for a moment. They won’t let anything much in to a psychiatric ward anyhow, especially so soon after she was taken in. Besides, she wants to see you, nothing else.”

You sigh and empty your pockets, dropping your wallet, phone and a couple of empty candy wrappers onto the passenger seat. Then you take a deep breath and stride towards the big doors.

The psychiatric unit is on the fifth floor. Your mom was right, before you can enter they make you show your pockets are empty. Then, finally, you’re led into a common room. Other patients are there, along with visitors and staff. You wish it was private, and again think yourself lucky to have your mom preparing you before being hit with unexpected hurdles.

Rebekah’s sitting at a table alone, her shoulders slumped and her head hung slightly before her. She looks exhausted. You walk over, mentally forcing a smile you don’t feel yet onto your lips.

“Hey, honey,” you say.

She looks up. Her eyelids droop.

“Hey. You didn’t have to come, baby. You must be busy.”

You drop into the other chair at the table and reach to take her hand.

“Mom’s making me keep going to school,” you admit, hoping the quirk to your lips gives her comfort. “But nothing matters more than you.”

She looks away at that and withdraws her hand.

“I really fucked up,” she says.

You shake your head. “No. It was a bad situation. I’m just glad you’re okay. You… are okay, right?”

“Yeah,” she says. Even her voice is listless. “I guess. I’m just worried about Titus. The cops have come before and… well… they hid him and it didn’t go well. They got worse after.”

That had never even occurred to you. Hopefully the fact that you reported a broken arm will mean they do more than just ask. You just have to put your hope in that and what your mom did. Mentioning which, Rebekah doesn’t know yet.

“Mom knows someone in the child protective services over there,” you say. “She reached out as soon as she got here. She says that’ll keep him safe.”

“Yeah?”

Rebekah’s eyes seem to brighten as she looks at you. “You sure he’ll be okay?”

You pause, not wanting to make promises you can’t keep. But Rebekah needs to hear it anyway.

“You know my mom,” you say. “She’s on it. And the woman she messaged is high up, director or assistant, I think. They’ve got him covered, honey. He’ll be okay. And… er…”

You pause. You’re not sure you should tell her the other bit, not in a place as crowded as this. You look around, making sure nobody’s too close and lower your voice.

“Mom says she’s talked to someone else who will make sure your parents never abuse anyone again.”

Rebekah’s lip curls into an ugly arch. “I don’t give a shit about them, as long as they can’t hurt Titus.”

“They can’t,” you say. “I don’t know what she did, but I’ve never seen Mom give me a look like that before.”

“Thanks, baby,” says Rebekah. Her hand brushes yours. “I mean it.”

“No problem. You’ve spent the whole year looking after me. We’re there for each other.”

It’s time to leave long before you’re ready to, but at least you’ve seen Rebekah show some positive signs. She’s obviously still heavily medicated, but knowing Titus is safe seems to have given her hope. You promise to return tomorrow and head back to the car. Your mom looks worried as you climb inside, but when you assure her Rebekah was glad to know Titus is safe, she gives you a knowing smile.

“Hey, Fresh!”

You know that voice, even if you haven’t thought about it for a couple of weeks now. Rhett Caldwell, but he doesn’t have the swagger of his show host persona. He’s quiet, reserved.

“Hey, Rhett,” you say. “What you doing here?”

“My sis works in NICU, she’s one of the nurses. We meet up for lunch sometimes. Listen, I heard what happened. How you doing?”

You shrug. “I’m fine, I guess.”

“Yeah, I hear that. Guessing’s probably all you got right now, huh? Look, if there’s anything any of us can do let us know. And I mean that. You’re one of us. Remember that okay?”

He means it. You can see it in the tight concern on his lips, the steadiness of his gaze.

“Thanks, Rhett. I’ll be okay.”

“Listen, about College Spread. We’re gonna put the finale off until the end of the year. That way if you still want to take part it’ll give you and Rebekah time to recover first.”

You roll your eyes. “Really? Look, don’t take this the wrong way, okay, but I can’t even begin to think of Spread right now. It’s just a dumb sex game with no prizes. What Rebekah’s going through is real. It matters.”

He nods. “Sure. And if you decide not to then everyone will understand. Don’t worry. Milo will still do whatever he decides to do and give the perverts something to enjoy. It’s just… none of us would feel right denying you the chance if you want to later.”

You slump against the dash with your head in your hands. Did you really just snap at him for trying to make things easier on you? For offering you a chance not to automatically lose. It doesn’t matter that you don’t care about it anymore. He was being a decent guy, a friend even.

“Look," you say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off like that.”

“Why not? I would have.”

“I just… even if she was okay later I wouldn’t have time to come up with anything.”

“Why would you need to? There’s always the end of year play. I know they’ve got one of the drama boys to understudy for you after what happened to Rebekah, but if you wanted the role, back you could step right in.”

You stare at him. He can’t be serious, surely.

“Rhett, I REALLY don’t have time to practice for a damn play!”

“Why would you need to? What, you think the drama department at our university can’t improv the hell out of every scene you’re in, and we know you can after what you did with Isadora and Raven.”

You think about that. It never occurred to you that you wouldn’t have to do much practicing for the play, but he’s right. They don’t need you to get things right, they need you to put forward the fake evil dominance you did in Kaori’s challenge. You’d enjoyed that one. So had Rebekah.

“Look, don’t say yes or no just now. Like I say, it’s completely fair if you just back out. Just leave it until Rebekah’s feeling better. Maybe discuss it with her once she’s out of this place. Then, if you want in, just talk to Dr. Sinclair. She’s in charge of the play. Either way, call on any of us for anything. Okay?”

You nod and thank him. As he walks away you realize your mom is staring at you.

“What prize were you expecting? $50 maybe?”

You try to work out what she’s talking about, too shaken to make the obvious connection.

“College Spread. You said it doesn’t have a prize. Tell me something, who were you just visiting?”

“What are you talking about, Mom? Rebekah, of course.”

“And how’d you meet.”

“That’s not the point! We might have met anyway. I mean we’re both in humanities, right?”

“You and at least a third of the university. You wouldn’t even have been born if it wasn’t for College Spread. Look, I’m not telling you what to do. Like Rhett said, nobody’s gonna think less of you if you back out. You’ve got more than enough on your plate right now. But when Rebekah’s out talk to her, because I know when my son is doing something he actually loves doing and you’ve loved being a player. And from what I’ve seen in the game show sections - Rebekah’s loved being a part of it too.”