Free Adrift in the Sound by Kate Campbell

her sideways, hit her open-handed, full force on the side of her face, stunned her silent, shoved her chest against the metal door. She shook it off, turned, put her arms up to fight. A jab to her side. A bone snap took her breath away. Flattened against the door, hips pulled out, head banging steel, he ripped her. Something, anvil-heavy, swung against her head, in her dream she sank beneath the water.
    Cold, greasy moss on cracked pavement against her cheek. A wad of chewing gum by her nose. She puked, tried to get up. Before she blacked out, she watched a dog lapping her vomit, then felt it licking her bare thighs, its tongue warm and comforting.
    Her own screaming and crying startled her awake in the dark. Sweating, heart pounding, she got up from the cot and lit a candle with shaky hands, drank some water and went to her large canvases and turned their faces to the flickering light. The sounds in her head slowly quieted and her hands steadied. The hard, greenish fluorescent light of the hospital faded from her mind, the probing questions stopped.
    She put her big canvas on a rickety easel, saw the empty places in her painting that cried for color—vermilion, ochre and verdant greens, azure. Tree branches tapped impatient fingers on the cabin’s roof as she cried and rummaged through her bag, she found the pill bottle Dr. Finch gave her at the hospital, poured water into a chipped mug. She fished out a powdery pill, threw it back, took a swig from the mug, swallowed, then blew out the candle and got back in bed, shivering.
    In the echoing well of sleep, Lizette heard, “You’ve been out for days.” Marian stood over her. Stretching, Lizette mumbled, opened her eyes and hoisted herself onto an elbow.
    “I brought chamomile tea and scrambled duck eggs,” Marian said, motioning to a plate and thermos on the table. “Wake up before they get cold. I want to do Sun Salutations with you. This yoga teacher came to town a few weeks ago and gave some classes at the Grange Hall. I want to show you some of his asanas. They’re really far out.”
    Unzipping the sleeping bag, Lizette put her feet on the floor and looked resentfully at the bleary figure moving too quickly around the cabin, plaid shirt, tights and high-top work boots, wild hair.
    “Give me a break. I just woke up.”
    “Did you take your medication?” Marian said, twirling slowly toward Lizette. “Let me see the bottle.” Lizette stood and yawned.
    Marian grabbed her own wrist and arched her arm overhead, stretching to the left, doing the same on the other side, folding forward, pulling her head to her knees. She straightened and took the pill bottle Lizette offered, went to the windows to read the label.
    The lithium dosage was mild. Maybe not too deep into her mania , Marian thought, or whatever the hell it is that makes her go crazy. Maybe I can help straighten her out, get her back to work. She looked around at the canvases and it struck her that she hadn’t heard Lizette laugh in a long time. She flipped through her memory but couldn’t conjure the sound.
    “Poland built me a platform on the beach,” Marian said and turned back to Lizette. “It’s a few feet off the sand so it stays dry. Great for yoga. Wind blowing from the water helps with breath.” She pinched her nostrils and exhaled noisily through her open mouth.
    Setting a wooden fruit box on end, Lizette scooted it up to the table and, elbows propped, she began to eat, ignoring Marian. The eggs had gone cold, but she shoveled. Marian dropped onto the wobbly wooden stool on the opposite side.
    “Where’s Poland?” Lizette asked and watched Marian wrap her short legs around the stool’s nicked and paint-splattered legs.
    Still sits up straight , Lizette thought. Like a kid reminded at the dinner table. She hasn’t changed, still a goody two shoes, looking down on everyone, thinking she can fix them and tell them what to do .
    “Poland’s up in the east pasture,” Marian said, getting