I think that the day should have felt different. It felt normal. A few patches of blue had broken through the dense grey cloud covering, and it was an average temperature for mid-March. I was on Spring break, off from college, staying with my parents. It was normal. Until the phone call. It always seems to start with phone calls, even in movies. Three phone calls, to be exact, all at different times, but about the same person. The three best and worst things to ever happen to me, I suppose. So this was the third time, and I picked it up.

“Hello?” I sprang backwards on to my parents couch. I had the place to myself now that my parents were on vacation.

“Bryan?” I recognized the voice and sat up straighter, “Yes this is Bryan, what can I do for you Mrs. Stefansson?

“I need you to come to the hospital.”

“Uh yeah of course I’ll be right there.” I was starting to get worried, Dalla’s mother never called me. There was no emotion in her voice, as usual. I sat on the couch for a few moments longer, clutching the phone, and trying to not let myself think of the worst scenarios. I shook my head and then jumped up and jogged to the door. The car’s engine whirred to life, easily enough for its old age. I started the drive to the hospital, staying relatively calm, unlike the first time I had to make this drive, right after the second phone call.

Okay, well I couldn't really tell what she was feeling, I thought to myself, but then again she never really shows a huge reaction to anything… It could be a good thing. No. It’s never a good thing. She probably wouldn't have even called me if it was a good thing. Not right away anyway. She’d just tell Dalla to call me when she was better. It’s bad. It’s always something bad! I guess there’s nothing really worse than what’s going on now, except for maybe dea-. No. I am not thinking about that, I’m not thinking about that. I groaned a little with worry, and tried to think of anything other than this, school work, college, summer… But that rarely ever works, because it is near impossible to avoid thinking about something when it is currently happening. It feels like my brain has built up walls, so bad memories and thoughts are trapped there, and all the good ones trying to get in, never reach the top of the wall… I zoned out for a while, listening to music. Music is really the only thing that drowns out my mind and stops me from thinking, so I’m just on autopilot. The signs for the hospital start to show up, and I’m back on manual control, and the bad feeling start to appear again, and the knot in my stomach tightens itself. I pulled into a parking space, in front of the entrance, wincing as the hard gravel jumps up to hit the car. It’s weirdly quiet here, I thought to myself as I looked around and saw hardly any other signs of people, except for the occasional car. The weather seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, since the morning, and had become colder, and grey and dismal. I walked towards the sliding doors, wringing my hands together, and rubbing them on my jeans, repeatedly to get rid of the gathering sweat. I tell myself to stay calm, even though it’s completely pointless. The familiar hospital scents and feeling welcomes me back, by engulfing my senses in its smell of antiseptic and sweet medicine, and the sound of wheels bouncing along tile floors, and distant announcements over the speaker. It’s sad how the signs of a hospital are so familiar to me, even though I’m not a patient. Every hospital smells the same, I think as I cringe my nose and walk unstably to the front desk.

“Hello dear! How may I help you?” the friendly lady at the front desk says, smiling widely. The snapping of her gum, seems to echo in the practically empty halls.

“Um hi, I’m looking for Dalla Stefansson. I think she was just moved here.” I trail off nervously at the end.

The lady checks her computer and then looks back at me, “You got here right in time! Visiting hours for her are almost over. She’s in room forty-three, on the second floor.” She indicated to the elevators across the room. I nodded and smiled thanks to her and walked over to the elevators. I jab the up button nervously and rock back and forth on my toes, waiting. After what feels like an eternity, the little moving room arrived with a ding and I step in. Taking the stairs would have probably been faster, I think as the elevator traveled slowly upward. The doors open with another cheerful ding, and I begin to walk down the hallway counting the door numbers. Forty-three pops out at me as if it’s in neon letters. I raise my hand and knock shyly. I can hear muffled voices and footsteps, until Dallas mother, Mrs. Stefansson, opens the door with a plastered on smile.

“Come in Bryan, I’m glad you could come.” She ushered me into the room.

“Well, you know she is my best friend. Why wouldn’t I come?” I reply defensively, and brush past her, into the room.

“Hey,” I said softly as I reached the bed, “How are you?”

“She’s sleeping now.” Dallas mother replied curtly. I sit down in a chair and rub my eyes.

“So, what exactly happened to her? Like why is she here, instead of the wing she’s normally in?” I ask the doctor, who is frowning at his clipboard.

“She had a severe negative reaction to a new type of medication we have just received. It was supposed to treat both schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, but it ended up attacking her nervous and circulatory system. There’s now a high risk-.” He stopped abruptly when he realized that Dalla was awake. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised, and I looked down and smiled. She looked fine when she was awake.

“What?” she asked the doctor

“Uh-,”

“Dalla, honey, it’s fine. I’ll take care of it.” Mrs. Stefansson cut in.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Dalla rolled her eyes, and continued picking at a loose thread on the sheets. Her mother stepped outside, beckoning for the doctor to follow. Both Dalla and I watched from the corner of the room. The shut behind them, and we both flinched.

“So how’s your first year of college going?” I asked teasingly.

“Wonderful!” she replied sarcastically, “I never get out of bed and I feel awful!

“So it’s the same as me then?” I replied jokingly. We both smiled.

“Well you look fine now.” I reassured her.

“Yeah, I guess that medicine worked after all. You know until it made me sick and all.” She gestured to herself and all the IV’s dripping multicolored fluids into her. I didn’t know how to reply so we just sat there. In the silence, we could hear shouting from outside.

“That would be my mother.” She closed her eyes in embarrassment. I jumped up and put my ear to the door.

“Well why would you give her the medicine in the first place?” Dalla’s mother shouted. I smiled, and wondered why she hated her family sometimes. Her mother would really do anything for her, including getting in fights for and about her.

“We didn’t know she would have a bad reaction to it! It seemed to work at first! She was getting better!” The doctor countered in a pleading voice.

“Well she’s obviously not now, is she?” her mother replied harshly.
I could imagine the doctor cowering in fear, while Dalla’s mother shouted at him, and other patients and staff trying to ignore them and walk quietly past them.

“Listen Mrs. Stefansson, nothing else was working. She wasn’t getting better, she still had the symptoms of different mental disorders-“

“Yes, but at least she wasn’t sick!” their voices had lowered to harsh whispers.

“Try a different medicine!” she said, listing options.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Stefansson, but there is a high probability of death.”

There was a pause, in which no one took a breath, and nobody moved.

“How high?” her voice cracked.

The doctor cleared his throat, “Ninety-one percent chance…And it will be soon.”
Dalla’s mother took a deep breath and then everything sort of went silent. It was like someone had covered my entire head with foam. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, or speak, or hear. I felt like something was trying to crawl up my throat. A hot wave of terror washed over me. No it wasn’t a wave, it was more like a boiling tsunami, and I was the one person stupid enough to stand on the beach. It had swept me out, and I couldn’t even react to it, because she was sitting a few feet away. I thought of the music in my head, and drowned out my thoughts. I was glad that I was facing away from Dalla so she wouldn’t see the jumble of emotions on my face. The phone calls always meant something bad. I could only think of the first two.



The first call was at the beginning of senior year. They principle called my mother to tell her about a new student, and I was chosen to show her around. She didn’t even ask me first before she said yes. Dalla and I didn’t really become great friends and have a relationship until the end of the year. Then summer came, and we tried to see each other, but it was hard.

The second phone call was around September of my first year of college. What a wonderful start to it. It was Dalla’s mother calling with the news that she had been put in temporary care in a mental health institution, outside NYC, close to where we both lived. I had always sort of noticed something a bit weird about her, her moods would change frequently, and she would sort of always be in her own world, muttering quietly. I didn’t come home until Thanksgiving, and I spent a lot of time with her over the break. She seemed okay, although after reading her diagnostics I noticed more little things about her. But when she was acting sane and normal, she was really the most brilliant person to talk to. She could be rather stubborn, so arguments were often a result, and she could be blunt and didn’t even try to spare people’s feelings when talking about them. But it was always good, and arguments were fun, and never lasted long. And it was really great.


Darkness in a hospital is actually terrifying. There’s just the beeps of electronics, and someone shouting ‘Code Blue!’ over the intercom every once and a while and everything echoes. And it was only nine o’clock. We were both reading in her room, while her mother had gone to get dinner.

“So are you going to go home now?” I asked, while folding down a page in my book.

“Why would I?” she replied, not looking up.
I remembered she didn’t know about the ninety-one percent thing. No stop thinking about it! I mentally slapped myself.

“I don’t know. Isn’t your whole family at home now?”

“They can come visit if they want to.”

“Right.”
She put her book down, “And besides, my mom probably doesn’t want me home.”

“Why not?”

“She doesn’t like me.” Dalla said simply.

“Elaborate please.”

“Well my older brother is ‘perfect’, and my younger brother, well everyone thinks he’s really smart, but he actually sucks, and I’m just the weird, sick one who eats up all the money.”

“Okay that’s not true.”

“It’s true to my mother.”

“No. I don’t think it is. Really.”

“Well, I still don’t want to go home with them!” she whined.

I sighed. “Fine.” I paused, “Then, let’s leave.”

“Leave? As in forever or just a little bit?”

“Just for a little bit.” I realized how true that was, and I felt scared and sick again.

“Where?”

I swallowed, “My parents have this old beach house in Montauk. It’s not that far away. Well it’s like three hours away. But the whole beach part would probably abandoned at this time of year.”

“Hmm the beach in the middle of winter! What a great idea!” she said sarcastically, but I could tell she was getting on board with the idea.

“It’s not the middle of winter!” I protested, smiling, “It’s almost spring, so it wouldn’t be that bad. And actually the beach is really nice at this time of year. It’s nice and quiet there.

“Okay well I’m in. Anything to not go home with my mother.”

“You know she’s not that bad?”

“You don’t have to live with her.”
We talked for a long time, until I fell asleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair. We had decided to leave early the next morning. Sleep was easier to come, if I wasn’t thinking about anything. Talking to someone that I like, sort of has the same effect as the music, it drowns out any bad thoughts.


Morning came, and at the first sight of dawn I woke to someone poking my face. I tried to roll over, thinking I was at home, but the armrest of the chair jabbed my side and I jumped up, hitting the arm that was poking me with my book. I rubbed my eyes, so they would focus on my watch better.

“Why? Why is it this early?” I asked groggily.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad!”
I could already tell that Dalla was acting differently from yesterday.

“Okay we’ve got to get going.” She said enthusiastically.

“Now? Really now?”

“Why else would I have woken you up? Now we just have to figure out how to get these IV’s out.”

“Should I go ask a doctor or-“

“No I’ll just pull them!”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea!”
She had already ripped them out. A few drops of blood flew onto the sheets. She rubbed her arm, and looked at the red dots.

“That normally goes better in movies.”
I smiled weakly and went to help her up. She jumped out of her bed before I even got out of my chair. She had already gotten dressed in regular clothes.

“To Montauk!” she shouted, pointing forward dramatically.

“Okay,” I laughed, “But maybe you should be a bit quieter. ‘Cause it’s six a.m. in a hospital. With other people in it.”

“Right. Okay now let’s go to Montauk.” She repeated, but with a normal voice.

We made it out of the hospital without any trouble, so I guess that’s why she brought normal clothes. The weather was almost the same as yesterday, but not as cold. It looked like it was about to rain, but it wasn’t humid at all. We got in my car, and began the semi long drive to the beach. She slept almost the whole way, reading for a little bit, and moving into different positions in the back seat, trying to get comfortable. We drove on the highway, and passed almost nobody. I really like getting up early, although it rarely happens, because it feels like you’re the only one in the world, except for the few other people that you see. And you feel like you share a special connection with them, because you are both doing the same thing, even if you don’t talk to them. It’s really quite calming to go into a place that is normally loud and crowded, in the early morning, as the sun is rising, and see no one there. That is how the beach feels in the morning and especially in weather similar to this.

The old house looked grey and sad, like it was reflecting the weather. I looked over my shoulder, after I parked, and saw Dalla sitting with her head against one door, stretched out over the entire back seat. She had her eyes closed, but her mouth was moving. I watched her for a little while, until I guess she realized that we stopped moving and opened her eyes. She saw me watching and then swung herself around and hopped out of the car. She ran up to the fence, where old beach grasses were swaying in the wind.

“Ahh I love the beach.” She shouted triumphantly.

“Even in this weather?” I asked doubtfuly, getting out of the car after her, carrying some plastic shopping bags.

“Especially in this weather! Well I guess I just love the beach at any time.

She was acting like a little kid, all excited about going to the beach and I felt like her parent.

“So,” she paused, rocking back and forth, “Do you want to go on to the beach?”

“Yeah sure! Let me just put the food bags away and I’ll be out soon.”

“Okay, I’m going to go to feel the water.”
I gave her the thumbs up and then picked up the rest of the bags and walked to the front door. The key was still on the top of the door frame. The doors hinges squeaked as I opened them. The last time they had been used was at least 5 years ago. The entire house was freezing and covered in dust. I began putting away the groceries in the kitchen. The kitchen had a large window that over looked the beach. I watched Dalla stand in the shallow waves, watching as the wet sand tried to drag her ankles under. She trudged further up the beach, and I could tell that her mood had changed. She was making motions with her hands, and seemed to be talking. I continued putting away food, and checking the other cabinets and appliances. When I looked out the window again, she was lying on the sand, on her back. My heart quickened with dread and I rushed out of the house.
“Dalla!” I shouted, across the sand as I ran towards her.
She didn’t look at me, but she sat up, still moving her mouth. I slowed down to a walk, panting.
“Are,” I said, catching my breath, “Are you okay.”
“Yeah I’m fine.” She replied distantly.
“Okay, let’s go back in now.” I took a deep breath, putting my hand out to help her. She didn’t get up, so I sat down next to her. She put her fingers up to her lips, and kept talking to an invisible person. She moved her hands up to her head, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“Alright, come on!” I announced. I grabbed her hands and pulled her up.
“So are you okay? Do you need anything?” I asked persistently.
“Shut up.” She whispered darkly.
“What?” I was confused.
“Oh not you.” She sounded annoyed.
We were almost back to the house, and the sand was making the short journey more difficult than it should be.
“I said go away!” she suddenly yelled. She pushed me away, and ran back to the house, the sand dancing after her feet. I followed her back, and found her in the kitchen looking for something.
“So. Uh what was that back there?” I asked cautiously, as I pointed out the door,
She looked embarrassed, “Um nothing really… Sorry, I guess my doctor would call it a ‘moment.’” She put air quotes around the word moment. It was when she started hearing voices, and talking to them, according to her doctors.
“And no I don’t want to talk about it,” she continued, “Would you put the water on?” she asked pulling out two tea bags.

I opened my mouth to say something, but thought better of it, and put the water filled kettle on the stove. We made tea and then sat on the couch watching old TV shows on an old TV.

“Do you know why my mom wanted me to go home this time? She asked, breaking the silence by sighing loudly.

“No, I don’t.” Why did she have to ask that, it was all so nice I thought.

“Hmm it just seems strange. I mean like all of a sudden, she wants me to come home.”

“Why didn’t you want to go home with her?” I asked.

“I already told you. I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“She does not hate you,” I turned to face her, “She doesn’t.” I repeated.

“Oh really? Then why has she never asked me home before? Or hardly even visits anymore?”

“Well maybe she’s busy.”

“Too busy to see her own daughter in the hospital? Of course!” She was starting to get worked up now.

“You know other people have lives and problems too. You might have the biggest problems, but your mother has to carry them, along with her own, and her families.” I felt surprised, and Dalla looked surprised. She looked down, and I could see the anger leaving her eyes.

“I know it’s just that-“

“Why do you hate her? I interrupted. I still felt a bit angry from before.

“I guess I thought she just stopped caring. She had two other kids, so why even bother with me, and the medical bills. She just thinks I’m a waste of money.” She lowered her head, and focused on a loose string on her sweater.

“You don’t know what she thinks the, because she doesn’t think that.”

“How do you know then?” She asked mockingly.

“Because I know that different people have different ways of showing love and affection. Some people choose not to show their emotions very often, and some can smother you with them. Your mom is saying that she loves you by always defending you, and trying to do whatever she can to help you. Like when she was yelling at that doctor yesterday, she was defending you and trying to help.”

Dalla looked like she regretted what she had said before.

“Do you know what I mean? Oh why are you sad now?” I asked worrying.

“No, I’m not, it’s just that I’ve never thought of it like that before.”

“Neither had I to be honest. I just sort of said stuff, and that came out.” I smiled lightly to reassure her.

It seemed as if she had forgotten about her original question which I was glad about. I’m still not sure how I could have explained it without telling her. I keep thinking that I should tell her. She deserves to know, but then it would become real, and I don’t think either of us could deal with that.

I do think that some part of her, the regular Dalla, I think she knows that something is wrong or strange, but that thought is just being buried under the other thoughts and voices.

The night passed. Her sleeping and me not trying to think. It seems like when you are trying to sleep, everything that you’ve ever regretted or anything your worrying about, just comes up and starts pestering your mind. Again, I use music to help me not think. Asleep by the Smiths played softly in my ears. And music always works.



“Bryan! Dude I made pancakes!”
I woke up with a shock almost hitting the wall.

“Pancakes?” I asked as I untangled my hands from my headphones.

“Yeah. Well I’m almost done. I’m just in a pancakey mood”

“Right, I’ll add that to your list of different moods…” I muttered to myself.

“Do we even have ingredients for pancakes?” I called out.

“Yeah we do actually!” she shouted back. “We bought them yesterday.”

“Oh okay.”

The smell of pancakes led me to the kitchen where Dalla was standing looking out the window, holding a frying pan In one hand. I reached to grab it before the uncooked batter slid out.

“Okay so,” I stated, safely setting the pan down. “What do you want to do today?”

“Hmm,” she pushed past me, returning to the stove, “Well what we did yesterday was fun. You know minus the breakdown on the beach. Sorry about that anyway.” She said sheepishly.

“Oh yeah ha ha. Well that sounds good.” I walked over the door to check the weather. A gust of wind grabbed the door and pulled it shut again. I blinked, my hand still out in front of me. I walked back to the kitchen.

“Well it’s a bit windy out.”

“Oh come on that makes it more fun!” Dalla replied enthusiastically.

“Right!” I gave her a thumbs up sarcastically, but she ignored me.

“Besides,” she continued, still making pancakes, “Now we get to wear sweaters, and be all warm and we can lie down on the beach- and oh! Can we bring a tent out there and read on the beach, and at night we can take the top off and look at stars and listen to music? We have to listen to all the songs by the Smiths, and watch stars, and try to find shooting stars. You know I’ve never seen a shooting star?”

“You’ve never seen a shooting star? Wow I used to see them all the time here actually. Anyway this sounds awesome. I’m going to see if we have any tents!” I grinned, and bolted upstairs to the attic where we kept the beach stuff. A quick search confirmed my suspicions.

“Alright, we have no tents, but we can still bring a few blankets out and use those to lie on.”

I came back downstairs and found Dalla just staring at the pancake mix.

“I realized that I have no idea how to make pancakes.” She said looking up at me and looking disappointed.

I smiled, “Well it’s almost time for lunch, so let’s just have lunch then.”

“Okay then.” She grimaced as she poured the lumpy batter into the trash.

We ate a lunch of many sandwiches each. Then we decided to attempt to make a blanket fort outside on the beach, which ultimately failed. The wind was to strong, and we had no way of supporting the blankets and towels. Eventually we gave up and wrapped ourselves in separate cocoons of blankets and we rolled around in the sand, and read books, and listened to music. It was actually quite a perfect day. After a while, we went inside, because it was starting to get cold from the wind. The phone rang, while Dalla was trying to unwrap herself from her blankets. I answered it. The fourth phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hello? Bryan?” It was Dalla’s mother.

“Yeah it’s me, what is it?” I asked cautiously. She sounded scared.

“It’s Dalla. She’s run away from the hospital, and is she with you at your beach house? Your parents said to call here.”

“No she’s not.”

“Oh no no no… She was supposed to come home this weekend for the last time-,” I could hear her voice crack and she started to cry. I had no idea what to do.

“Well the doctor said she had a few days left,” I can’t believe I am talking about this. I told myself that I wouldn’t think of it. That if I didn’t think about it, it couldn’t happen.

I heard a thud behind me. And I spun around to find Dalla staring at the phone.

“A few days left?” she whispered sounding betrayed.

“I was going to tell you but I just couldn’t find the right-.”

“And was when I was dead going to be the right time?” she yelled.

“Dalla? No wait!”

She ran out of the front door, the blankets she used, in a crumpled pile.

“Dal wait!” I shouted down the beach. The sun had set, and the tide was coming in now. I could hardly see.

“Dalla? Where are you?”

I heard a muffled intake of breath, coming from close to the water, and ran towards it. I got close enough to see a figure clutching their head and falling into the wet sand.

Oh my god no no NO.

“Dalla! No!” I ran to get her.

She was lying on the ground holding their head. And not moving. I couldn’t speak, as I tried to shake her. She groaned and tried to turn over. I flipped her over, but I could see that her grip on her hair was loosening. I made some incoherent sounds and fell down in the sand, holding her head in my lap. Her hand flopped down and it was over. The blood rushing in my head, turned back into the calming noise of waves breaking close by. I didn’t sob or scream. I couldn’t make any noise even if I tried. Silent tears fell and mixed with the rising tide. I lay down in the sand, lowering myself gingerly on to the quicksand like ground. Her eyes were still open. So I lay and listened to Asleep by the Smiths, and watched the sky, watching for shooting stars, for both of us.