I didn’t go to school the next day.  My prescriptions had piled up so they were a meal in themselves, and aside from the drowsiness, I was still trying to answer the questions that had been flying through my head.  What is real?  What is not?  What is the line between making sense and believing you make sense?  More than anything, I wanted to hear what my most admired mind thought—but they kept telling me I made up everything he said.  It was beyond me, but according to them, it wasn’t.  If I was me, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t think of something, how could they think of it first?  And why couldn’t I realize what they were thinking about? 

            The day wasted away.

            I woke up sometime while my parents were out picking up dinner.  There was a tap on my window that nearly scared me to death.  Thinking I was about to be robbed, I prepared to tackle some masked intruder.  When I opened the blinds, I found Preston gawking back at me.  I sighed and opened it for him.  “Ever consider the door?”

            “Hey, I want to be quick.”  Immediately I was drawn back.  Something was wrong.  He crawled onto the carpet, bringing in a blast of cold air with him.  A bag dropped at his feet.

            “Going somewhere?” I flatly joked.  He looked up, sort of shrugged, and nodded.  This was new.  Preston was always up for traveling, but he usually talked about it for a while before he took off.  “Do you know where?”

            “It’s not important.”  I really feared the tone of his voice.  I slowly sat, still watching for some sign as to why he was so brief and so cold.  “I…”  He stopped.  Since when was he speechless?  “I…I need to…”  He was looking around the room now, nervous.

            “Did you forget something the other day?” I asked.  He shook his head, pacing.

            “I need to say something.”

            “Then say it.”

            “No,” he snapped.  I blinked.  “Are you all right?” he suddenly asked with true concern.  I nodded, lying.  He waited a moment, bit his lip, and looked to the floor.  “I’m leaving.”

            “We’ve already discussed this,” I smiled.

            “No, I’m leaving.  For long time.”  How long?  I frowned slightly.

            “Where?”

            “It’s not important.  I’m saying goodbye, Anna—goodbye and…and whatever comes after.”

            “Preston,” I half-laughed, “what are you talking about?  You’re talking like you’re…”  For some reason, my voice stopped.  “You’re talking like you’re,” I tried again, but those blue eyes stopped me every single time.  He just stood there.  How could he just stand there?  “You’re…you’re talking…”  Harder every time.

            “Do you remember where we met?” he asked frantically, his expression turning to a desperate plead.  “Do you remember what we were doing?”  I had been asking questions I couldn’t answer all afternoon but it was my Preston who demanded replies.  “Where were we?  I’ve been trying to remember it since…since…I can’t…”  He was scaring me as he rambled in pure hysterics.  “I can’t remember it at all…”

            “Why are you leaving me?” I croaked.  He threw his hands back, facing the wall.  “What…what did I do?”

            “I can’t stay, you know that.”

            “You can’t leave.”  My eyes burned, but I refused to cry again.  I could refuse all I liked—I would still be finding my vision blurred by strange emotions I couldn’t control.  Where did we meet?  What were we doing?

            “I’m sorry, really.”

            “No, you’re not!”

            “Anna…” 

            I saw his eyes.  The blue they cast and the bit of gray that was hidden in them was so bright, it was like I had never seen them before.  It was like the first time I had seen them.  Him there, with everything we would ever adore building in his gaze.  He reminded me of Elle just by his beauty.  Then I knew.  We were both not real. 

            “Take me with you?” I whispered, barely able to stand before him then.  “Please?  I…I can’t be here without you; take me with you…”

            “I’m going,” he replied in a different tone.  There I saw the most silent of tears there, real as the soul behind them.  Take that away?  Why were we ever friends?  I had one last glance into the depths of his very being, his very real and beloved being, and saw my world.  “Goodbye.”  He turned.

            “No.”  He picked up his bag and opened the window.  “No, don’t.”  He threw it onto the cold grass outside and followed it into the night.  “Stop!”  I reached for his arm, but I wad dazed—it looked faded.  I missed.  I fell.  I wept.  I broke.  I was unreal.

*           *           *

            “Annabelle King,” the nurse muttered, scanning over the mass of notes on the clipboard.  “Seventeen.  Five-eight, 130 pounds, blonde hair, green eyes.  Admitted May fifteenth by her parents…seven current medications…relaxant at night…hourly checks.  Would you like to schedule another check this afternoon, Dr. Mallow, or do you think she’ll be all right until dinner?”

            “She hasn’t eaten in three days,” Dr. Mallow replied glumly, stroking his short beard.  “Such a strange case…”

            “No kidding,” the nurse scoffed.  “Regular kid wakes up one day and her parents tell her she’s nuts.”  Dr. Mallow frowned skeptically, taking the clipboard from her and reading the scribbled lines for himself.

            “She’s a serious Schizophrenic in a very…dramatic withdrawal.”

            “She’s a teen,” the nurse scoffed, “who isn’t dramatic?”  At a silent cue, they both looked into the small sound-proof window to the frail body sitting on the floor, staring quite intently at the door.  She seemed perfectly healthy, well-groomed however pale and in needing of a meal.  “What is she looking at?” she whispered, as if the patient might hear.

            “She’s waiting,” Dr. Mallow replied.  The nurse continued to gawk in misunderstanding.

            “Waiting for who?”

            “For him.”  The nurse didn’t question who ‘he’ might be, but only assumed it was someone very important.  Dr. Mallow backed away, looking over the papers once again before starting down the hall.

            “Is he ever going to come?” she asked.

            Dr. Mallow didn’t answer.