Straightjacket

by Meredith Towbin

  The pain made it take longer than usual to strip down to his boxers. Eventually he got back into bed, hoping to get some sleep. It was difficult to find a comfortable position, his bruised ribs sending him a shooting pain with even the slightest shift of his body. Even so, he wasn’t tired and lay there with his eyes wide open, staring at the glowing numbers on his clock. He couldn’t stop thinking about Samuel and what he’d said. He was lonely and miserable and hated this place. Anna was the only person who could see past the disease they’d labeled him with and see him for who he was.

  Samuel was right.

  He’d fallen in love with her.

  He couldn’t explain to himself how it had happened so quickly or why; he just knew that he felt it, and he didn’t want that feeling to stop. Samuel told him he was just supposed to walk away from her.

  That wasn’t an option.

  Chapter Ten

  “Oh, God!”

  Anna’s eyelids popped open. She blinked a few times. Squinting, she was able to focus on her mother and father standing at the foot of the bed.

  “Anna—oh, look at you!”

  Her mother’s high heels clicked against the floor as she walked around to the head of the bed.

  “Your face!” She went to touch Anna’s bruised cheek.

  “No, Mom.” She slapped her mother’s hand away and tried to boost herself up to a sitting position so she’d be ready to defend herself more easily. But she couldn’t manage with only one arm. Her other arm was pressed against her body in a sling. She fumbled for the controls to the hospital bed on the nightstand and the bed hummed until she sat upright.

  “Look at you!” her mother repeated, and then turned to her husband. “Walter, look at her!”

  “Yes, I see,” he answered flatly, settling into a seat in the corner.

  “I can’t believe this would happen, and at a place like this…” The hysteria was flowing freely now.

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “What, I’m not supposed to be upset about this? You’re lying there with half of your face black and blue and a broken collarbone!”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “What I want to know is, what did you do?”

  “What do you mean, what did I do? I didn’t do anything.”

  “Well, people don’t just get attacked for no reason.” She turned to her husband, who was flipping through a week-old issue of People that had been abandoned on top of the radiator.

  “Here, they do.” Anna realized she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her irritation.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Right. I just decided to pick a fight with a guy three times my size.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her mother smoothed her hair back and made sure it was all tucked into her perfect chignon. “You must have done something to provoke him. When Dr. Blackwell called me, he didn’t tell me the details. I want to know what happened right now.”

  “I’m telling you, I was sitting there minding my own business when this psycho guy came over and started yelling. Then he attacked me.”

  Her mother formed her cruel smile, the corners of her lips curving downward. “Well, maybe the reason had to do with that boy you were talking to,” she said, annunciating every word to ensure that Anna understood without question. She threw them like she was chucking grenades.

  For the first time since she was startled awake, Anna remembered Caleb. Since yesterday, all she could think about was if he was okay. But then her temper ignited as she looked at her mother’s smug face, and she felt her entire body burning with rage.

  “He had nothing to do with it! You don’t even know what happened!”

  “Anna, keep your voice down. Don’t you talk to me like that,” her mother hissed. She turned toward her husband, who was still sitting in the corner, although he’d stopped reading to look up when he heard Anna’s shouting. “Walter, don’t you have anything to say about this?”

  He shot up from the chair and walked over to Anna, leaning over her as she sank down into the bed.

  “Don’t talk to your mother like that,” he said slowly, and raised his hand over her head, slapping the air a few inches above her as a threat. Anna flinched and scrambled to the other side of the bed, grabbing the covers with the hand of her uninjured arm and pulling them up in front of her. Her hospital gown slipped down and exposed one of her shoulders. “If I hear you speak to her like that again, that bruise on your cheek won’t be the only one you’ll have to worry about.” He lowered his hand slowly and stepped back a few inches. Anna stayed on the far side of the bed. The only sound in the room was Anna’s rapid, uneven breaths as she tried to tug her hospital gown back up over her shoulder.

  “I don’t know what you did to provoke that fight,” her mother picked up once again, “but we didn’t send you here to find a boyfriend. You need to be spending your time getting all those crazy thoughts out of your head, not finding ways to get into trouble.” Anna was no longer looking at her mother. She was staring down at the bed. The blanket that had been lodged under the mattress hospital-corner-style was hanging out, its corner brushing against the floor.

  “Do you understand?”

  Anna didn’t answer.

  “I’m not kidding here. You disobey me and you’ll find yourself in another facility, and one that’s not quite as luxurious as this one. I’m not paying an arm and a leg for you to act like this.”

  “Whatever,” Anna whispered. She wanted to jump up out of the bed and run out of the room, run out of the hospital, run anywhere to get away from her mother and father. If given the chance, she’d leave that room with just the hospital gown she was wearing. But it was impossible. She’d never get away from them, from their power over her. When she was little, she’d get through the really tough times by thinking that someday they’d be punished by whatever power the universe held. She’d felt guilty for thinking it, telling herself how bad she was for wanting something so selfish and revengeful. But today she’d had the same thoughts and didn’t feel the guilt quite so deeply.

  “May I come in?” Dr. Blackwell asked as he poked his head through a narrow opening in the doorway.

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Anna’s mother answered, motioning him with her manicured hand to enter.

  Anna moved herself carefully so that she sat upright against her pillow. She was so accustomed to putting on the appearance of normality that she moved to where she should be on the bed without thinking about it.

  “Doctor, thanks for stopping by,” Anna’s father said. He walked over and shook his hand.

  “How is everyone doing?” Dr. Blackwell asked, focusing on Anna.

  Before she could say anything, her father answered.

  “Oh, surviving.”

  Anna’s mother shot an aggravated look toward him. She despised hearing him answer that way, making people think he was miserable. It was all about appearances, after all, and that kind of comment was at odds with the one she was trying to create. She’d be scolding him in private later on.

  “And, you, Anna? How are you feeling?”

  Anna didn’t feel nearly as warm toward Dr. Blackwell as she had a few days ago. He’d betrayed her by telling her parents about Caleb.

  “I’m fine.” She offered nothing else. Instead she concentrated on her feet, which formed two small bumps underneath the blanket at the foot of the bed.

  “I think she’s doing much better, thank you, Doctor,” her mother added. She had smothered her voice in sweetness. “We appreciate you calling us so quickly when everything happened.” She looked disapprovingly in Anna’s direction.

  “Yes, yes.” He sat down at the foot of the bed so that his eyes were level with Anna’s.

  “Anna, I know this must have been traumatic for you, but I want you to know that we’ve dealt with the patient who attacked you. Believe me, you’re safe here, and I’m confident that something like this won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” her mother said,
her words overlapping the tail end of the doctor’s remarks. “My husband and I have made it clear to Anna that we do not approve of her behavior, and if she continues to act like this there will be consequences.” She let out a confident sigh as she finished.

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Dr. Blackwell said.

  “She must have done something to provoke the other patient.”

  “No, this wasn’t Anna’s fault. The man who attacked her is dealing with some serious issues, none of which had anything to do with Anna. She was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “I suppose,” her mother answered. “But the boy she was sitting with at the time—I don’t want her having anything to do with him. She is here to get well, not fool around with boys.”

  Her mother shook her finger violently with every other word.

  “I suppose I have to agree with you to some extent,” Dr. Blackwell said.

  “But—but Caleb had nothing to do with it! If it weren’t for him, I might be dead.” The intensity of her voice dulled when she saw her mother’s narrowed, angry eyes resting on her.

  “Anna, it’s come to my attention that the two of you have become close,” Dr. Blackwell said.

  Anna’s mother let out a disgusted moan.

  “I’m glad to see that you’ve started reaching out to other patients, but I feel very strongly against starting up any kind of romantic relationship while in treatment.”

  “Romantic relationship?” Her opinion of the doctor was taking a nosedive. “What are you talking about? That’s not true—” She stopped at the concerned look on Dr. Blackwell’s face. She was never good at lying, and anyway, he’d already made up his mind. Her mother’s face was burning with rage and horror.

  “You listen to the doctor,” her mother scolded. “If he says this Caleb is a bad influence, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” She nudged her husband with her elbow.

  “Listen to your mother,” he said, offering Dr. Blackwell an embarrassed smile when he was finished.

  “Don’t misunderstand me. Caleb isn’t a bad influence. It’s healthy for Anna to form relationships with other patients, but we just don’t want her developing any romantic relationships. Let me explain it this way: In order to be successful in therapy, a patient must be self-aware. A romantic relationship causes all of the patient’s energy to be focused outward, toward the other person, instead of inward, where the work needs to be done. Believe me, I have nothing against Caleb. We just need to make sure Anna stays focused on herself. She’s been making a lot of progress and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished so far.”

  “Yes, we’re very proud of her ourselves,” her mother said.

  Anna wanted to punch her.

  “Good,” Dr. Blackwell said. “Well, I’ll leave you some time to visit. And please remember that we’re taking very good care of your daughter.”

  “Yes, I know.” Her father offered a handshake once again.

  The doctor turned to Anna. “We’ll talk more about this during your next session. Sound good?” He would never hear her utter Caleb’s name to him ever again. Nevertheless, she mumbled a yes and he walked out, closing the door behind him.

  “I cannot believe how you spoke to him!” her mother chided as soon as the door was shut. “Who do you think you are? To embarrass us like that in front of him, as if you know better. No daughter of mine is going to run around with some lunatic boy.”

  Her mother kept ranting, but after a while Anna ignored her. She allowed the words to pass through her but didn’t decode their meaning. Her mother only caught her attention when she heard the angry pounding of her heels heading toward the door. She snatched her purse from off the floor and hooked it violently around her shoulder.

  “Well I’m not sticking around to be treated like this. Come on, Walter.”

  Her father trailed her to the door in silence.

  “Aren’t you going to say anything to her before we leave?”

  “You remember what your mother said.” And with that, they slammed the door behind them.

  Anna wanted to scream. Instead, she punched her pillow. A few of the goose feathers from inside shot out but then floated slowly to the floor.

  “I hate them,” she said slowly, over and over again in barely a whisper. 3RF9 Just as clearly as she felt she was falling in love with Caleb, she could feel the purest hatred for her parents flowing. She started to fantasize about not having to see them ever again, hear her mother’s poisonous words poking at her like a hot branding iron. Her mother didn’t love her. She didn’t know how to love anything except the idea of having a perfect daughter who obeyed her every command. Anna had taken that away from her, and now her mother would punish her for it. It would be even worse when she came home.

  She started to cry convulsively, her body shaking with anger. The hopelessness was overwhelming. There was no way to escape from them. She might go away to college, but she’d still have to come home for vacations. And anyway, her mother would cast her looming shadow over her even if she were a few hundred miles away. She didn’t even have to be in the same room with Anna to inflict her damage.

  She cried for a long time before realizing the pain medication was starting to wear off. Her collarbone began to ache, the sensation growing stronger by the minute. She wiped her eyes with her one hand and went into the bathroom to throw some water on her face. One glance in the mirror proved that her mother was right; the entire half of her face was bruised and swollen. She whipped her head around, not wanting to see it or think about it. When she returned to her bed, she rang the nurse for more pain medication.

  “What can I do for you?” the nurse asked when she stepped into the room.

  “I’m starting to feel pretty sore. Can I get some more medicine?”

  “Sure, hon. Give me a second.” She started to leave.

  “Um, wait,” Anna said meekly. The nurse turned to face her. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “I wanted to ask about a patient in the psych ward. He was in the same fight as me yesterday. His name is Caleb. Would you be able to tell me what happened to him?”

  “I’m sorry, hon,” she said as she tilted her head to one side. “We can’t release information about a patient to anyone besides family. Are you family?”

  “Um, no, I’m not.” The corners of her mouth arched downward. The need to cry again would overwhelm her any second.

  “Well, I’ll be right back with that medication,” the nurse answered cheerily, and walked out the door.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over the last twenty-four hours, the red bruises on Caleb’s face had taken on a tinge of black. The swelling around his eye would have gone down if he hadn’t refused the ice pack. Instead, a slight puffiness settled in around his eye socket. He didn’t care. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror since yesterday and had ignored his body as much as he could. It was only the pain around his bruised ribs that he couldn’t forget, especially when he coughed or sneezed. Then it was excruciating. But he still refused any medication. He didn’t want anything foreign surging through his system, altering him on any level. For all he knew, they’d slip something into that plastic cup that did more than dull the pain.

  He’d spent the entire day in the common area, waiting for Anna. He didn’t know how long she’d spend in the main hospital and there was no one he could ask. Actually, there were plenty of people he could ask, but none of them would offer him any information, so he didn’t bother. Instead he sat in the same chair in the common area, drawing all day long, his eyes darting up toward the doorway each time someone came or left. His mind obsessively ran through everything that happened in the courtyard over and over again, and it always ended the same way—the vision of Anna’s body lying broken on the ground. Every one of his muscles tensed with worry.

  A few times he left the common area to walk by her room, but she wasn’t there. The bed was made, with no sign of her having slept in it the ni
ght before. One time, Chrissy passed by him in the hallway as he was checking Anna’s room. She flashed Caleb a huge smile and asked in her most irresistible voice if he’d like to join her next door, in her room. Then she flipped her long, thick hair back over her shoulder. Caleb answered her with a blank stare, like her existence hadn’t even registered, and walked back to the common area to see if Anna had come back while he was gone. But when he walked through the doors and looked around, he realized the room was the same as he’d left it. He went back into his corner and carried on with his drawing.

  Late in the afternoon, he sat drawing numbly, his hand scribbling something that his mind hadn’t told it to. Drawing had become a way to pass the time, which was something it never had been before. Thinking that he’d only grind his pastels down to stubs for no reason, he dragged himself over to the couch in front of the television. A sleazy talk show was on; he’d caught the part where the audience could vote on whether each guest, all of them dressed like prostitutes, was a man or a woman. The host of the show laughed outrageously every time he offered his microphone to one of his trash-talking audience members. Their hoots and hollers made Caleb even more restless than before. He went back to his chair and carried on with his aimless doodling, letting the pastel in his hand skate over the surface of the paper.

  Caleb sat uninterrupted, sketching and daydreaming for hours. He pumped up the volume on his iPod in hopes that nothing around him could find its way inside.