by D. B. Carew
As the ceremony drew to a close, the minister began a final prayer.
“Hey, I got a few words to say,” Ray interrupted. He smiled at the two guards as though issuing a challenge. The guards exchanged a look that appeared to be a mixture of confusion, surprise, and frustration, then escorted Ray to the podium. The clanking of shackles was impossible to ignore.
Ray cleared his throat in dramatic fashion before starting to speak. “Like my dear brother said, I too never knew my father. But you won’t see me up here bawling like a baby,” he said, breaking into laughter. He was the only one laughing. “I like to think I am the man I am today because of Maurice.”
He looked at Chris with his all-too-familiar smirk. “I take great comfort being here today with all of you, the family I never knew I had. We need to cherish these moments and hold our loved ones close because no one knows what tomorrow brings. Life can be cruel. Lives can be struck down in an instant. And we’re left asking ourselves, ‘Why did this happen?’ Rest in peace, Maurice. May you find company soon.” He looked daggers at Chris.
Chris could feel his blood boiling. He was furious at Ray and his obvious threat.
The minister, appearing visibly frazzled, resumed her final prayer. The ceremony ended, and Chris stood to receive condolences from his friends.
As Ray was being escorted out of the building back to the guards’ vehicle, he shouted, “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to meet your daughter, Ryder.” He waited until he had Chris’ attention before adding, “Maybe next time.”
“Don’t respond, Chris. He’s just trying to get a rise out of you,” Stephanie whispered.
Chris let the waves of fury roll over him. “Class act, isn’t he?” Chris finally said as his heart rate returned to normal.
As his friends departed, his family congregated. Chris hesitated briefly when his Aunt Mary was in front of him. He was still processing her recent disclosure, but the emotion of the day took over and tears spilled from his eyes as he embraced her tightly.
“I’m so sorry, Chris,” she said softly in his ear. Then, “You did the right thing not reacting to that monster.”
“Thank you,” he whispered back. “I love you.”
Chris introduced Stephanie to his aunt, then walked over to Deanna to say goodbye.
Chris drove Stephanie to her condo before heading back to his apartment. He put on some music and waited for exhaustion to force him to sleep.
TWENTY-SIX
Although he wasn’t feeling up to it, Chris decided to return to work the next morning. Horace approached Chris as he checked in at the reception desk. “How are you doing?”
“Okay, considering.”
“Ray Owens made quite the scene yesterday.”
“Couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make it all about him.”
“Well, here’s something that might cheer you up. I’ve got an extra ticket for the Canucks game on Sunday. I’ll be meeting up with Gerald and a few other guys. Interested?”
Chris wasn’t, and normally he’d come up with some excuse and politely decline. But he didn’t have it in him to say no today and stamp out the look of excitement on Horace’s face. Besides, maybe seeing a playoff game would shake him from his current funk.
“Sure. But I’m not painting my face, holding up a sign, or whatever goofy thing you usually do,” he joshed.
“Funny guy. The least you can do, then, is wear a jersey. Think you can handle that?”
“I’m sure I’ve got one stored away somewhere that I can dust off. How much do I owe you for the ticket?”
“Don’t worry about it. We can settle that later. Besides, I know where you work.”
They discussed the details of when and where they’d meet at the arena.
Chris headed to his office. He hadn’t been there five minutes before Gerald appeared at his door. “How’re you doing?” He walked into the room and perched on the edge of the desk.
“All right, I guess.”
“How was it, uh, with Ray being there?”
“About what I’d expected. He went out of his way to make an ass of himself, didn’t he?”
“I read the statement from Bernum. The two of them managed to create a shitstorm, but people are seeing right through it. It was one of the most talked-about segments on the Nick Stromme show this morning. Callers have been unanimous that Ray had no business attending the funeral. I can only imagine what that was like for you.”
Chris nodded. “How have things been around here?”
“Same old, same old. Everyone is complaining about the day-leave thing, and no one’s telling us when it’ll end.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around. I’m sure you ended up dealing with a bunch of calls about my patients.”
“No problem, we had it covered.”
“I hear you’re going to the Canucks game. Horace is selling me his extra ticket.”
“Yeah, he told me he was gonna ask you. That’s great. The first beer’s on me, and maybe even the second. Depends on whether the Canucks are winning or losing,” Gerald joked.
Chris glanced at his phone. The flashing red light told him he had messages waiting. Gerald picked up on the cue. “I’ll let you get caught up. Talk later.”
Chris spent the rest of the morning dealing with the work he’d missed the last few days. Returning phone calls, seeing a newly admitted remand patient, and starting a referral to a mental-health boarding home in Vancouver for another patient. In preparation for the afternoon meeting about Marvin, he followed up his previous calls to Community Living Society about the referral he’d initiated.
He worked through lunch. In the early afternoon, he ventured onto Alpha Unit and met Dr. Stevenson in the nursing station.
As usual, the unit was humming with activity. A patient was being prepared to attend court transported by the BC Sheriff ’s Department. The phones were ringing constantly, and members from two treatment teams had assembled in the nursing station while waiting for their respective meetings to start.
All activity came to a brief but sudden halt when Chris entered the nursing station. He noticed the day-old newspaper on the counter bearing the inflammatory headline.
Dr. Stevenson broke the silence. “How are you doing, Chris?”
“Good. Thanks for asking.” Uncomfortable at being the centre of attention, Chris attempted to divert the focus. “How’s Marvin?”
Dr. Stevenson smiled. “Let’s grab a room so we can talk. Marvin will be joining us later.”
Alex gave Chris an update on Marvin. “He’s had a few unsettled moments. There was one day when he didn’t get a paper —”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Chris interrupted, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I was off, and it completely skipped my mind to bring a copy down.”
“No, no, it’s fine. He has his own copy of the Tribune now, and for some reason, the delivery was delayed. But he came to me with a note, just like we asked him. He dealt with it all right.” Alex continued with his update on Marvin.
“His court date’s coming up,” Dr. Stevenson reported, “but he won’t be discharged. I’m going to certify him under the Mental Health Act. I’ve talked with his lawyer, and we’re looking to have Marvin attend by video from here rather than in person in Hope. I’ve recommended he’s unfit to stand trial. Hopefully, we’ll get the treatment order to give us more time to see if we can help him, but the reality is that he may never be fit enough to stand trial.”
“What then?” Alex asked.
“Well, with any luck our assessments will get him the help he needs,” she said, filing through Marvin’s chart. “I see the Occupational Therapy functional assessment has been done.” She skimmed through the report outlining Marvin’s low performance with money management and home health and safety, then read the recommendation aloud. “‘Low scores in our assessment suggests Mr. Goodwin doesn’t have the necessary skills to safely live independently or semi-independently in the community. Mr. Goodwin would function o
ptimally in a fully supported living environment where he has assistance with activities of daily living such as cooking and home management.’” Dr. Stevenson continued. “Psychology also finished the neuro-psych testing, which showed significant challenges with language, reasoning, judgement, and problem solving.”
“I faxed it to CLS,” Chris said. “They’re still reviewing it to confirm whether he meets their criteria. But even if they agree that he needs a home with specialized care twenty-four/seven, he’ll be put on a wait-list for who knows how long.”
“So we’re stuck with him and he’s stuck with us?” Alex asked.
“Where else could he go?” Chris asked rhetorically.
“You’re right,” said Dr. Stevenson. “Jail is not a practical option, nor an ethical one, for that matter.” She looked at Chris. “No word from his family?”
Chris shook his head and made a mental note to drive by the addresses Marvin had given him again to see if he’d have better luck connecting with someone this time.
“If you’re ready, I’ll go get him.” Alex left the room.
Marvin appeared at the door a short while later. “Hi, Marvin, thank you for coming. Please take a seat.”
Looking nervous, Marvin took his time entering the room. He appeared hesitant about sitting down.
“It’s okay, Marvin, take any seat,” Alex encouraged. Marvin sat down, his right hand still clutching the day’s newspaper displaying the sports section.
“Are you having a good day, Marvin?” Dr. Stevenson asked.
“Good day,” the young man repeated, nodding his head slightly. Then, turning to look at Chris, he said, “Home.”
Chris gave him a smile. “We were talking about that just before you came in. We want you to go home, but we need to find out what the best home will be for you. For example, if you don’t live with your brother, we’ll help you find another home, one where there are people who can help you with your meals and things like that. Would that be okay?”
Unsurprisingly, Marvin’s response was limited to “Home.” Dr. Stevenson fared no better when she tried asking him a few questions. Finally, Marvin stood up, signalling that he wanted to leave.
Chris thought of something. “I know you like to read the stats on the Canucks, Marvin. Do you like watching them on TV?” There was no response. “If you do, I’m sure you could watch when they play their next game. I’m actually going to that game and I was thinking of buying a program. It will have information about each of the players, maybe even some stats on them. Would you be interested in reading it?”
“Reading.”
Chris could swear he saw the glimmer of a smile on the young man’s face. “All right, I’ll bring it in. See you soon.”
Alex stood up to escort Marvin back to his room. He looked at Chris. “Good to see you back. Enjoy the game.”
When they were alone, Dr. Stevenson echoed Alex’s sentiment. “How are you holding up?”
“As well as can be expected.”
She paused. Chris knew she was waiting for a more detailed response from him, but he said nothing, so she continued. “What was it like seeing Ray? The truth,” she added with a smile.
Chris wasn’t feeling ready to talk about his father or Ray, but Marilyn Stevenson was more than a colleague. She was a friend, a friend who was reaching out to support another friend. He took a deep breath and tried to summarize the multitude of emotions banging away in his mind. “Yesterday was rough. I was sad, angry ... you name it.” He shrugged. “But there’s not much I could do about any of it.”
Marilyn took a moment to respond. “I see he’s got Phillip Bernum representing him. I heard Bernum’s been shopping around for a psychiatrist to conduct another NCR assessment on Ray.”
“You don’t think he could be found not criminally responsible, do you?”
“I certainly saw no supporting evidence when I conducted my assessment with him. Can you imagine the chaos he’d create if he was admitted here again?”
“I can. That’s the problem,” Chris said, trying to shake the thought from his mind.
Marilyn picked up on his reaction. “Are you still seeing a counsellor?” Chris nodded but said nothing, so she changed the topic. “And how are things between you and Stephanie?”
“Good,” he said, fidgeting in his chair. He knew Marilyn meant well, but he was feeling too mentally and physically tired to engage in a frank conversation about his personal life, especially when he feared it was unravelling around him.
“Listen, Chris, I know I said a few things a few months back about you and Stephanie seeing each other. Perhaps I was out of line back then. I was worried about you rushing into a relationship so soon after your separation and what happened to you at Woodland Park. But these past couple of months, you’ve looked happier, and that’s been good to see. I wish the best for you both.”
“Thanks, Marilyn.”
Marilyn took her time before continuing. “I’m sure you know how hard it is for caregivers to be in the position of needing to get care for themselves. But Chris, if you’re not feeling ready to be back at work—”
“I’ll be fine, Marilyn, really. But I appreciate your concern. I’d better get going. Have a good afternoon.”
He stood and left the unit.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Next, Chris went to see his patient Paul on Beta Unit. Staff there gave him a similar reception as that on Alpha. Some expressed condolences over his father’s passing while others couldn’t resist asking about Chris’ recently disclosed biological connection to Ray. All were interested, however, in hearing his reaction to Ray being at his father’s funeral service. He didn’t want to appear rude, so he did his best to give quick, well-rehearsed responses to their questions before asking to see Paul.
“How long do you think you’ll be with Paul? We’re going to the airing court in fifteen minutes.” Chris knew the unit would normally go to the gymnasium as a group, but with the day’s sun and warm temperature, the option of going to the airing court was too good to pass up. Though fenced for security, the courtyard boasted a large grassy area where patients, and occasionally staff, played volleyball and soccer in the summer, as well as a paved area for basketball.
“We’ll be done by then,” Chris said.
A healthcare worker named Craig went to get Paul from his room.
When the young man arrived, they both moved to an interview room for privacy.
Chris started by explaining why he’d missed their last team meeting.
“I read about it in the paper. Sorry about your father.”
“Yeah, me too.” From the way Paul looked at him, Chris got the impression that he had more to say about the matter. He guessed it probably had to do with him and Ray being related, but he wasn’t ready to discuss that quite yet. To head off further questions about Ray, he said, “I had a message from your mother thanking me for coordinating her visit with you. She said it went well. What did you think?”
“It was really good seeing her again,” Paul said with a grin.
“That’s great. The timing was unfortunate with the hold on day passes, but hopefully the next time she visits, you’ll be able to have one outside of this place.”
Paul was silent for a moment. “Uh, do you know when those passes are gonna start again? The supervisor at the clubhouse is offering me more hours in the communications department but they’re on days that the staff don’t take us, so I’d need to have a pass to go on my own.”
Chris shook his head. “They’re still doing the review. I hope it’ll be done soon.” He saw the disappointed look on Paul’s face. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll look into whether our staff can take you for an extra day. Would that help?” Paul nodded with excitement. “You’re leaving quite a good impression on the other members at the clubhouse. Keep up the good work. Who knows where it could lead?”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks.”
“Have a good time outside. It’s a nice day to be out.”
&nbs
p; They walked back to the dining area where a collection of patients and staff had gathered in preparation to going to the airing court. Chris returned to his office.
Chris had no sooner reached his office when he received a call from Alex on Alpha Unit.
“Phillip Bernum is waiting in reception. Says he has an appointment with Marvin. Is that true?”
“No. Bernum isn’t Marvin’s lawyer!”
“Do you want me to tell Security to turn him away?”
“That’s okay, I’ll deal with it.”
Chris raced down to reception.
“Ah, Mr. Ryder,” Bernum said with an ingratiating smile. He stood up and stretched out his hand in an overly dramatic fashion. “Let me introduce myself. I’m —”
“I know who you are.” Chris ignored the outstretched hand. “You’re not Marvin’s lawyer.”
Bernum feigned surprise at Chris’ reaction. “How astute of you. It just so happens that Mr. Goodwin’s lawyer was called away this afternoon, and I offered to drop in to see the poor young man as a professional courtesy. I like to think of my colleagues as extended family who would reciprocate the favour under similar circumstances.”
A look of false sympathy replaced the feigned surprise. “Speaking of family, please accept my condolences on the loss of your father. Losing loved ones can leave such a devastating void in our lives. I know my client, Mr. Owens, has been deeply affected by his loss. But onward and upward, I always say.” A smile returned to his face.
Chris wasn’t buying Bernum’s story that his sudden presence at IFP was an act of altruism. And he was curious to know more.