CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.

—John Muir

Seventeen Years Ago

Patient Number 0022

Thud, thud, thud, woosh, thud, woosh. Confusing sounds, bright, squeeze. Piercing cry, fear rising as his body was constricted, tight, tight, tight. Then flail. “I’m so glad you’re here. Look at you. Perfect. Wonderful.”

He heard the sounds, the voice, but he couldn’t make sense of the words, only the hushing, soft sound. The lessening fear. Thud, thud, thud. Softer now. And then warm, tight but not too tight. Good.

He slept, and in his dream, hands reached for him, grabbing. Tearing. Scared. He cried. Alone. No one. Cold. Empty. His stomach knotted.

“Shh.” The voice again. Then sweetness. Warm. The empty feeling abated, but the warm stayed. He moved back, forth, back, forth. Thud, thud, thud. The voice became song, and he floated. No dreams this time. No tearing, just warm.

Emptiness again. Fear. Then filled. Warm. Sweet. Good.

Thirsty. Drink. The song again. The one that meant back, forth, back, forth. Warm. Good. Thud, thud, thud.

Am I the song? Am I the thud? Am I the cold or the warm?

It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He floated, and it was good. “There’s that smile. What a beautiful smile for a beautiful boy.”

Am I the smile? Am I the boy?

He became aware of something other than the empty and the warm and the cold, but he didn’t know what to call it. Soft, pressing. Tickle. Fuzzy. It touched him. It caressed him. He was ... him . He had a body. He was inside a body with parts that could feel things. He was the boy. Happy. Good. Beautiful.

“What a good boy. A perfect boy. I’m so glad you’re here. You’re safe.”

The warm and the sweet and the full were safe . He drifted. He slept.

The cold came but was quickly replaced by warm. The empty widened but was soon made full. Back, forth, back, forth. The song rose and fell. Thud, thud, thud. Words whispered. Good. Beautiful. Safe.

He was the boy. The beautiful boy. The voice was happy. It sang him songs and hummed and hushed. The voice was good. The place was good. He was good. He was safe.

There was something outside the good, but he couldn’t make sense of what it was. And it was okay because the singing voice was always close. Sometimes he felt the bad come closer, but then the voice hushed and shushed, and the bad went away, replaced by the thud, thud, thud . Both anchored him to the good and the safe.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He felt his skin and wiggled his toes. He felt his eyes move and became aware of light outside his lids. He didn’t want to come out of his body. It was safe inside. Warm and full and good.

“There you are, sweetness,” the voice said. “Are you going to open your eyes and say hi? I’ve been waiting for you.”

Waiting. The voice was waiting. The voice wanted him to open his eyes.

Fear. Light. Space so big. Too big.

“Okay, that’s okay. You take your time. There’s no rush. You take all the time you need.”

Time. No rush. Safe.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Cold. Warm. Empty. Full.

The voice again. Singing. So sweet. He wanted to see the voice. The voice was good. The voice took away the cold and the empty. The voice made him safe.

He raised his lids, the light seeping in. He knew the light because he’d known the dark. The space around him brightened, and the voice became a face. Smiling. “Hello. There you are, sweetness. I’m happy to see you.” The voice was a she. She was happy to see him. Her smile grew bigger, and her eyes crinkled. He could feel himself smiling back. The woman laughed. “A smile too! My goodness, what a beautiful smile.”

He wanted to see her smile some more. He wanted to smile more, too, because she thought his smile was good. But he was so tired, his lids heavy, and so he closed his eyes. And again, he slept.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

Thud. Thud. Thud.