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The air was humid and thick with highs in the lower nineties and a ninety-nine point nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine-nine percent chance of thunder storms later on in the day.  You never know for sure what the weather’s going to do.

Ethan had been in the hospital for a couple days, taking pills, drinking juice, and talking about his feelings.  He didn’t have too much to say.  When they asked he mostly kept telling them that this was a time of change for him and the problems weren’t so much with his mind as they were between him and God.  He told the doctors that he was working on being a better person and was taking the change very seriously, and when something came along and threatened his family, like a reckless driver, he tended to go overboard.  After all he only pushed the guy, it wasn’t as if he’d hurt him or anything.  They could have all been erased from the planet if the tree wasn’t there.  Poof, no more family of three.

Ethan was laying on the bed in his room praying when Stephen knocked on the semi-open door.

“Ethan?” he asked, looking at his papers.

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Stephen Matney, a therapist here—wait, where have we met?”

Ethan took a closer look.  “Oh, you returned my son, safe and sound, at Cantico Park.”

“Right,” he laughed, “I remember now.  How’s he doing?”

“We’re alive, barely.”  He proceeded to tell him about the accident and how he ended up in the psych ward.

“I’m sorry that happened to you.  Thank God no one got hurt.  I’m sorry you’re here involuntarily, but maybe it’s for the best.  People really get help here and leave better, happier, and more restored than when they came in.”

“Great, but my problems are between me and God.  I’m not really looking for a third party perspective.”

“Yeah, I read that in the notes.  Well, I’m not going to pry, just wanted to tell you we’re having a musical therapy session in the rec room in a few minutes.  Oh, that’s recreation room, not wreck as in car wreck.”

“Very funny.”

“No, I wasn’t joking.  I don’t want to trigger you.”

“Trigger me?  Don’t you think it’s funny they use the biggest trigger word of all to categorize the other trigger words?”

“True.  I hadn’t thought of that,” laughed Stephen.  “Anyway, you should join us.”

Elliot was at home practicing guitar at the same time Ethan and Stephen were at the hospital having a conversation.  Most of his waking life Elliot was practicing guitar or doing something musical.  He thought he’d found a way to overcome his case of guitarist’s block and conquer whatever was preventing him from getting better at improvising.  Before even picking up the guitar he would compose an original solo for a simple chord progression on paper, and then, because he was decent at reading and learning from sheet music, he would play the solo while looking at what was on the page.  After a few shaky tries he’d get the hang of the solo he wrote and be able to play it fluidly and flawlessly.  It wasn’t improvisation but it was close.

His mom knocked and opened the door.  She motioned for him to take his headphones off.  He cooperated.

“Come out here and talk to me.”

“Is dad home?”

“Not yet.”

Elliot followed her out to the family room.  He was careful not to upset his parents anymore than they already were given the region-wide uproar he’d unwittingly triggered.  They weren’t hugely upset, but they were far from happy with him.

“What’s up, Mom?”

“What’s up?”

“Sorry.  What’s going on?”

“You’re a revolutionary, that’s what’s up.  Teenagers across the state are refusing to attend school because of you.  All it took was one student—my son—to stand up against the system for the whole state to go insane.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Bzzzt.  You don’t get to make excuses.  The only reason you didn’t get expelled is because that’s exactly what you want them to do and because I promised the principal that you would be an exemplary student throughout your junior year.”

“I promised you I would be.  I’ll try my best.”

“You will be.  Now, I know this is a tough time for you.  You want to focus on your music but—”

“But finishing school and getting into college is my priority.  I know, and I will, Mom, don’t worry.”

“Okay, just making sure you remember.  All I ever see you doing is practicing guitar.”

“It’s summer, plus I’m making some really good progress, exceeding my limitations and really starting to break through some barriers.  It’s slow, but I’m getting there.”

“I’m happy for you, Elliot.  Now come here and give me a hug.”

At St. Perpetua’s Hospital in the recreation room, Stephen, a couple nurses, and the psychiatric patients were having a party, jamming to a funky eighties song on satellite radio.  The rec room had an electric drum set and amp, a baby grand piano, and an acoustic guitar.  There was also a ping pong table, a pool table, a large table full of arts and crafts materials, and several computers.  Ethan was rocking out on the drum set.  He knew how to keep a beat pretty well, one of his friends had a drum set growing up.

“All the trees, all the clouds, all the seas, I love you far, far more than these”

Everyone was singing along, joking, and laughing.  Ethan thanked Stephen for asking him to join.  “The Psychiatric Department is the most fun I’ve had for a while.”