Lunatic’s Mate

2. White Room

Taking out my cell, I texted Spence:

**Me:** "I’m going to be admitted to the hospital. They have to take my phone, so I’ll see you later."

I sent the same message to Dex, copying and pasting it. Almost immediately, Spence texted back:

**Spence:** "Again? Later as in how much later? You haven’t stayed over since we started dating."

His response made me feel like he didn’t care about what I was going through. I was really trying to make the best decisions. I went from doing everything for the family I had created with my ex-husband to living alone in a completely different country.

This isn’t what I deserve. He hasn’t even asked about Lucky. Neither of us deserves this treatment. With my mind made up, I texted:

**Me:** "If you can’t commit to me and Lucky, we’re done. I have a son, and I won’t put anyone above him."

**Spence:** "I took care of my ex-wife, who died of cancer. I can take care of you too; you don’t need to end us."

**Me:** "But you don’t know how to take care of a child with autism. I can’t take care of everyone. You haven’t even asked about him, and it’s been a month since we started dating."

**Spence:** "Fine. Good luck finding someone to take care of you."

I blocked his number. Shortly after, I got Dex’s reply. Dex is a friend I’ve known since college. We’d been distant until he heard about my divorce, but I’ve never seen him as more than a friend.

**Dex:** "I understand. I hope things get better for you soon. :*"

It’s nice that he’s affectionate, but like Spence, he doesn’t really care about my son. Right now, my son is the most important thing. I need him to be safe, and I need to figure out what they’re asking of me because I feel exhausted and overwhelmed.

**Me:** "Okay, thanks. :)"

I put his texts on mute and texted my mom.

**Me:** "Mom, I’m going to the hospital. Call the therapy center to get Lucky. I’ll come home when everything’s done."

**Mom:** "Okay, I’ll be there soon."

Knowing Lucky would be safe, I got up and spoke to Ingeborg as she returned with one of her bosses. The boss, the wife of the owner of this company, looked a bit nervous and didn’t seem her usual kind self.

“Hello, Miss Green. I’m sorry to hear you’re not feeling well.”

For some reason, her tone made me feel like they were talking to a patient with zero brain cells. I didn’t like the way she was speaking to me. I wasn’t feeling well, sure, but now I was being treated like a child.

“I’m fine physically. I don’t understand what you mean by ‘not feeling well.’ What was with the questions Ingeborg asked me earlier? I haven’t been having the best time, but I’ve been trying to handle everything humanely.”

The boss looked more nervous, and Ingeborg walked back to the front desk. The boss then asked me, “I’m sorry for my poor choice of words. I just read the results, and I’m concerned about your health. Your *mental* health, Miss Green.”

Her words made me uneasy. I was just tired—dealing with so much—and all I wanted was a better life instead of being constantly alone.

“I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist, but I’m in the process of transferring to a new one. The county didn’t approve my medical coverage, so I’ve been left without one.”

While I was speaking, the front desk brought in a paper, and the boss began filling it out. Then she looked up at me and said, “You want to go to the hospital, right? Because you feel tired? Who will be picking up Lucky?”

Her words started sounding more like she was implying I’d be away for a while. But that couldn’t be right—they knew I was a single mother. They knew my ex basically tortured me and had threatened to do the same to Lucky.

It’s been hard to accept, but I’ve started admitting what he did. The problem is, nobody wants to hear it because they say they can’t do anything. Nobody really wants to deal with an active military member. Even though I knew he wasn’t the war hero his job portrayed him to be, I was still stuck in my own head.

“My mother. And I can leave the hospital when I feel better, right?”

She didn’t answer directly, just gave me a fake smile and handed the paper back to her secretary. Then she told me to leave my car behind, offering to drive me herself.

Her car was a brand new SUV, and I couldn’t help but admire it. She laughed at my expression and said, “While you rest in the hospital, I’ll be able to pay off my new car. I won’t even feel bad about my daughter scratching it.”

Her assumption left me speechless. I drive a used Kia with a broken AC and heater. Everything I own is over ten years old, except for my house, which I only got because it was necessary. I haven’t been able to work for six years since Lucky was born. His therapy is two hours away, and no job fits his routine.

Silas came into the picture right after I moved into my home. She lost her job during the pandemic, and I didn’t want my friend to be homeless, so I opened my home to her. But today is different.

Ignoring the conversation in the car, we arrived at the hospital. Once inside, she answered a couple of questions, and I asked the front desk nurse:

“How long will I be able to rest?”

The nurse didn’t smile or look at me like a normal human being. I felt uneasy about staying here.

“Until you feel better. You’ll be alright. Go with her, and you’ll be safe. Lucky will be safe too when your mom picks him up.”

Her words weren’t comforting, but the nurse called for some people. Two other nurses came to escort me to a white room at the end of the building. Inside, there was a flat hospital bed, some sheets, a gown, and a pillow.