Chapter 16

The next day, mid-morning, June took True to the vet during a work break for routine shots and a nail clipping. As she was heading back, she received a call from Forest Glen Academy. It was Ms. Harlow, informing her that Elizabeth had disappeared at school but was found in the bathroom after having a panic attack. Elizabeth was feeling better and would soon return to class, but they wanted June to know about the incident and assured her they were working on a plan to better handle these situations in the future.

June couldn't shake the feeling that a mental health crisis was brewing in her family—not just with her, but all of them. She had heard reports about how the fallout from COVID seemed to be surfacing all kinds of buried mental health issues, and she wondered if this was connected. But deep down, she felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t been the best parent over the past three years, and perhaps even before that. For the first time, she began to truly see the gaps in her parenting.

That evening, she started a conversation with Hadrian about her regrets as a parent. She was hard on herself, admitting to mistakes and missed opportunities with the kids. Hadrian listened thoughtfully, supportive but silent, letting her hold his hand as she talked. His face seemed sad, as though he wanted to offer compassion but didn’t know how.

The next day, Tuesday, June received the usual midweek text from Donna, inquiring about their Wednesday night dinner plans. Donna asked if June was feeling up to it. As tradition dictated this time, June picked the restaurant, while Donna paid. June chose Harborview Pizzeria, since Donna mentioned she’d be at Grant’s office downtown.

June had her next appointment with Solin and brought up the strange conversations from the previous Wednesday dinners. She detailed the interactions with Donna, asking Solin if she thought June's observations were strange. Solin, though hesitant to offer a direct opinion, validated June’s feelings about the night.

June also expressed her ongoing frustrations with Dr. Saeed and inquired whether Solin knew of any psychiatrists more supportive of a “meds-last” approach. Solin said she would think about it and see if she could find a good referral.

Meanwhile, Ms. Harlow and Elizabeth worked together on a plan to manage Elizabeth’s panic attacks. Elizabeth would be allowed to retreat to a quiet room with a bean bag to decompress, and her favorite teacher from Forensics, Ms. Wells, would be the only one checking on her, every 20 minutes. Elizabeth, who preferred to be completely alone during these episodes, agreed to this compromise.

June couldn’t help but think back to Elizabeth’s Montessori days, when her first teacher, Ms. Kristy, had affectionately nicknamed her “Escape” (Es-ca-pe), just like the character Dory had pronounced while reading the sign in Finding Nemo. Even as a toddler, Elizabeth had sought refuge from structured environments.

June wondered if Elizabeth felt anything like she had during the baby shower—overwhelmed, needing space. If so, June felt a wave of empathy wash over her. How could anyone, especially a child, explain this feeling to an adult without sounding crazy? Even she, a full grown adult, struggled to explain her experiences without sounding crazy. Adults dismiss children's experiences so easily.

Wednesday passed uneventfully, but later that evening, Solin contacted June with a recommendation for a psychiatrist, Dr. Kevin Jensen. Though he wasn’t taking new clients, Solin had worked with him before and managed to secure an exception for June. The wait time was six to eight weeks, but June was willing to be patient. This felt like a potential turning point in her relationship with mental health medications. She called immediately and scheduled her appointment for mid-June—a little over eight weeks, but she accepted it.

Later that week, Ms. Harlow sent June and Hadrian an update on Elizabeth. A former teacher’s aide, Mr. Oscar, who had become a professional UFC fighter, had returned to give a talk at the school. He and Elizabeth had formed a bond during after-school programs, and she was thrilled to see him again.

Mr. Oscar had encouraged her, building her up, and it had clearly meant a lot to Elizabeth. Ms. Harlow shared how Elizabeth had a great day, helping count money at the book fair and enjoying the nice weather during recess. She even noted that Elizabeth had found her new seating arrangement with the girls at lunch "actually interesting"—a rare positive comment from her.

June replied to Ms. Harlow, agreeing that Elizabeth had seemed in great spirits when she picked her up. Elizabeth had mentioned Mr. Oscar, and had even enjoyed art and lunch with the girls. June thanked Ms. Harlow for checking in.

As June reflected on the day, she realized just how much she didn’t know about her kids' lives. She never asked about much beyond "How was your day?"—a question typically answered with "good" or "fine," leaving it at that. She hadn’t known Elizabeth was close to Mr. Oscar. In fact, she didn’t even recall his name being mentioned before.

Being a working mom, June had always been more focused on her own life and career than on the more hands-on aspects of motherhood, like volunteering in classrooms or joining the PTO. She had never envied stay-at-home-moms, but now she felt a twinge of guilt. She realized how little she knew about her children’s rich inner worlds, or the lives they lived outside the home.

Hadrian, as usual, didn’t acknowledge Ms. Harlow’s email, which wasn’t surprising. He tended to be hands-off with the kids unless specifically asked to show up or weigh in. Yet something about Mr. Oscar and Elizabeth’s interaction nagged at June. She couldn’t quite place it, but it unsettled her. Elizabeth had always been combative with boys and dismissive of girls—she definitely marched to the beat of her own drummer.

Hadrian surprised June by being home an hour early. Ever the ships passing in the night, she headed out the door soon after he arrived. June met Donna at Harborview Pizzeria, an upscale, trendy pizza joint with a beautiful view of Makaska’s largest harbor on Lake Michigan. The cozy spot had become one of their favorite places when they both worked for Grant years ago. It felt familiar, and the server—an aging party girl from the '90s—recognized them from previous visits.

June was excited to talk to Donna about what she was learning from the book What Happened to You. She had been developing a hypothesis about how her psychosis, the manic episode that had led to her bipolar diagnosis, might have been triggered by trauma.

Donna had learned a lot about June's difficult childhood over the years, and they had bonded over their shared experiences of neglect and abuse. June thought Donna would be impressed by her insights, but Donna seemed unmoved.

June explained that EMDR, or Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, was mentioned in the book as an effective tool for people with PTSD to process their trauma and resolve triggers. She was considering trying it to work through some of her childhood trauma.

Donna, however, seemed oddly unsupportive, sharing her own experiences with EMDR, which had been recommended by her therapist, Dorian. Donna said she found it painful and weird, admitting that she had trouble participating without cracking jokes to lighten the mood.

When June mentioned that certain interactions with Donna had triggered her, Donna grew defensive. June had connected it to childhood memories of her father not respecting her boundaries. Donna clearly disliked the comparison and, feeling the tension rise, June decided to keep things high-level, saying only that it had something to do with boundaries being crossed.

June sensed the discomfort between them, Donna looking like a deer caught in headlights. She didn’t know what to do as a peaceful euphoria washed over her. Their eyes locked, and Donna said, almost threateningly, "I never did that without your permission." She quickly looked away, picking up her phone to respond to a text from Don, never one to let his messages go unanswered.

After dinner, they decided to head down the street to The Lodge Pub, a rustic bar they'd often gone to with Grant’s team. Its woodsy decor, reminiscent of a cabin up north, had always been a comforting spot.

Donna had turned into a chatterbox after the tense conversation at Harborview, filling the air with stories about her family and work. She regaled June with the details of a missed contract detail when she co-signed for her daughter’s car purchase—an expensive clearcoat package that had been added without discussion. Donna was furious about it.

She explained that she had bluffed about leaving negative feedback on the dealer’s survey, which got her half of the cost reimbursed. June listened half-heartedly, her mind wandering to the ambient noise of the bar—the TV screens broadcasting local sports and the background music. As the intro to one of her favorite songs, "Trampoline" by SHAED, started playing, June smiled and said aloud, "Oh, I love this song."

Donna, caught off guard by June’s reverie, fell silent and listened. After a pause, Donna looked at June and said sadly, "I used to like this song..."

June could feel the tension thickening. Donna looked pained, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and June knew the heartache was aimed at her. Instead of empathy, though, June felt irritation, if not anger.

"You’re hurt," June stated flatly. She recognized this dance—whenever she tried to set boundaries, Donna struggled with it.

"Yes!" Donna gushed, her voice rising. "I’m just trying to figure out if you ever loved me. Every other time you said you wanted to be friends, it felt like you wanted more, but something else—your marriage to Hadrian, your kids—got in the way. Now it feels like you're saying you never loved me at all." Donna’s tears were on the verge of spilling over.

June resisted the urge to make everything better for Donna. "I wasn’t as honest as I should have been," she admitted, "even when you asked me to be."

For a moment, Donna froze, panic flickering across her face before she abruptly turned away. "I can’t talk about this right now," she said, brushing away the tears. When she turned back to June, her face lit with a half-smile. "On a lighter note, are you unfriending me?" she asked with a forced laugh.

June couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity. "That’s a lighter note?" she retorted, then reassured her, "No, I’m not unfriending you." But unspoken in her mind was the thought: Not unless I have to.

Donna, seeming satisfied, launched back into her monologue about the car situation. June, recognizing what Donna was doing—avoiding the real conversation—let her go on. They finished their drinks, walked to their cars, and exchanged a brief hug before June drove home. That same euphoric feeling lingered, free and detached. There was definitely a pattern with these dinners and this feeling.

But the sensation at Sophia’s baby shower was different, an outlier in the trend. What did it all mean? DJ’s words echoed in her mind: Is there any other time in your life that you felt the way you did in 2018 when you were diagnosed with bipolar disorder? Any time that felt remotely similar?

June resolved to think back, searching for times when she had felt “off,” detached, or spacey. No, she couldn’t recall anything as intense as the euphoria of 2018. But then, a memory surfaced. Exactly Purple, whispered a voice from deep within her mind.

She suddenly remembered a monologue she had written for a drama class in high school, called Feeling Purple. She had been homeless then, living out of her car, bouncing between friends’ homes. It was shortly before Pearl had taken her in. June had felt eerily detached back then, like a ghost drifting through life, utterly alone. Maybe that "Purple" feeling was what DJ was referring to. And as she thought about it, she realized there were more times when she had felt like that.

Warning

By Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people’s gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Indigo Children

Indigo children are special and the game changers of humanity. They view the world through a different lens and cut through societal clutter and systems. Sometimes, it may take a while before a child realizes that they are of Indigo origin, while some awaken way after teenage-hood or after becoming adults. Often described as sensitive and spiritually aware, they face unique challenges in a world that may not fully understand or accommodate their distinct qualities.