Weaverton has expressed being unhappy with her new roommate, Vada Bower. Request for roommate transfer will be granted pending administrative approval.
That bitch! She wanted me out? I gave her my pudding cup!
Her file is thick and filled with disgusting details of encounters with various men including several male teachers in high school and community college. She has been involved in countless sexual shenanigans with married men and was once married herself, to a truck driver, named Orville Merrifield. Who would have thought Bath Salts Mary could bag so many dudes? I’ve only been with one and I married him. This girl has put me to shame. Even though she’s a home-wrecker, I’ve got to hand it to her. The girl gets her freak on. Funny that it doesn’t say she’s been with women although I know she was with one last night, but you know, we all have our secrets.
I feel I have done enough Magnum PI-ing for now and I fold up her papers and stick them in the bottom of my suitcase. Although, I’d still like to find out who this gal was who spent the night with her last night. I imagine it’s just a sex thing and I should really just stay out of other people’s business.
Katelyn comes in and says I have a visitor. She seems kind of giddy though, and I can’t figure out why. She leads me to the room with the big double doors and I see my brother Heath sitting at a table. I expect him to hop up and hug me, but he doesn’t. He is looking right past me. He is looking at Katelyn. Oh for crying out loud! He waves to her and I immediately glance back at her. She has this flirty little grin on her face and gives Heath a little finger wave, then heads out the door.
“Do I need to leave, so you can visit the nurse?” I ask.
“Shut up, Vada. What’s her name anyways?” he asks.
“Katelyn. But I’m here, so if you’d like to ask me how I am doing in the hospital, I will answer you. If not, I can have her come back and sit with you and I’ll get back to recovery.”
“Oh yeah, well, I wanted to come check on my little sis and make sure you were okay. How are they treating you in here?”
I give him the rundown on the place and tell him I am fine. I also tell him that if anyone finds out I am here I will hurt him—badly. He fills me in on his latest moving jobs and says that business is pretty slow right now, but should pick up once it gets warmer. I’m really glad he came to visit me. It’s nice to know that he cares and Heath doesn’t judge. He’s just a big brother checking up on his little sister and checking out his little sister’s smokin’ hot nurse.
After a good visit we hug goodbye. He tells me he’s going to go see my boys and help out if they need him. I thank him very much and then out the double doors he goes, off to my home to see my kids. I want to go with him. I just want to kiss their faces.
I leave and walk to the Social Room. It has a lot to offer and I’m not being sarcastic. There are shelves lined with hundreds of books and board games to choose from. There is a ping pong table and an air hockey table over in the corner. The walls are decorated with artwork from patients over the years, some of which are quite good. There are paintings, sculptures made of clay, even some display cases with handmade jewelry. One drawing on the wall in a frame catches my eye. It was done in colored pencils and it’s of a woman’s face, but she has no mouth. Her eyes look so familiar and I feel like I know this girl. I study it for a while, and then make my way to an empty couch in the T.V. room. Lucky for me no one is watching it and there is a Kardashian marathon on!
After my fill of Khloe clearly being the funniest one, Scott being a dick to Kourteney, and Kim pouting, I decide to head back to my room. I stop and take one more look at this drawing and I get no further in my evaluation of who this is. There is no signature or date, but it sticks in my mind. I make my way down the long corridor towards 109 and I notice right away that my door is slightly ajar. I cautiously enter the room to find a tall man with a blonde ponytail standing there wearing latex gloves. He is not looking happy. Oh God! I hope this isn’t like one of those prison shake downs and he’s going to give me a cavity search. I’m allergic to latex. Wouldn’t that be a fun rash!
“She told me about you!” he says. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but I can’t place him. Maybe he’s from the men’s ward and he’s escaped and he’s going to strangle me. Maybe he thinks I am someone else. Maybe I am about to be murdered in a mental institution by a crazed lunatic. What are they going to tell my children? I’m so scared that I may possibly piss in my pants.
He repeats his words again, “She told me about you.” His navy blue pants and white button down shirt don’t necessarily make him look like he could be a patient here. It almost looks like he’s...a janitor...yes, he works in housekeeping. Room 74 must be the janitor’s room. This is the woman who was banging Bath Salts Mary last night! Eww. Only he is not a woman, he is a man. But, what the hell is he doing in my room?
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” I ask him, trying to sound tough and bad-ass. I’m using all sixty inches of height to intimidate him, although I’m not sure it is working.
“You tell me what you are doing with her chart first. And why the fuck is there blood on it. She said you were weird. Are you doing some sort of sacrificial obsession role-play thing or something? You stay away from her okay? You got that, you crazy bitch? I’ve seen people like you in here before.”
Am I really hearing this? Am I really hearing this?
“You don’t understand. It’s all a mistake, just calm yourself down. First of all, I don’t even know her, and second of all,” I lie, “I didn’t mean to take her chart. I thought it was my chart. I was trying to sneak it out from Dr. Lipton’s office and I got the wrong one. I grabbed it so quick I got a really bad paper cut, okay? That’s why there is blood on it.”
He looked like he was buying it. He dropped his hands and his circus-like face softened a little.
“I think Ba-I mean Mary is a pretty nice lady from what I can tell. I have no problems with her. I wish she was fonder of me. I know she doesn’t like me, but I’ll stay out of her way. I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.”
“What?” he says angrily, “Who’s this boyfriend? If she’s lying to me then I’ll...”
“No, no I meant you. What is your name?”
“Jeremiah.”
“I meant you, Jeremiah. I didn’t know you and she were in a relationship.”
“Well, we are and things was going just fine till you showed up and then I couldn’t have my overnights with ‘er. Once you came and we couldn’t sleep together she didn’t even wanna see me. Nows that the doctors have seen how crazy you are...they locked you up in here, I finally got her back. Good thing they put you alone. Serves you right.”
“Okay, that was quite rude...and wait just a minute, Mr. Clean. Does the hospital know that you’re banging one of the patients? Is that in your job description next to cleaning floors? Hmm...I wonder if the administration would care to hear that after you empty the trash, you stick your dick in it.”
Ooh...I wonder if he has a carpet cleaner...the floor in my room could use a good scrubbing and I won’t walk on it with bare feet. I realize I am standing on my tip-toes and my feet hurt in these flip flops. I go and sit down and ask him to have a seat so we can work out a little deal. These floral patterned chairs are really coming in a lot handier than I would have predicted. He’s the one who looks scared now and I know I am in control of this situation. I’m starting to feel a little bad for the guy; he looks like he may cry.
“Jeremiah, I’m not going to tell anyone. Calm down.”
He looks relieved as hell and gives a really goofy smile revealing some extremely neglected teeth. “So you think that we can keep this thing between us? Hell, I just came in here to empty your trashcans and run the sweeper.”
“Well, I’d like to ask you just a few more questions, Jeremiah.”
“Make it quick, crazy lady, ‘cause I got the whole rest of hall to do and I’d like to clean myself up before I see Mary tonight.”
“
Alright, knock the ‘crazy lady’ shit off. Your girlfriend’s the one... oh never mind. What’s the point? Listen, I think I can help you with Mary.”
His eyes light up. He looks like a baby getting ready to take in a spoon full of mashed apricot dessert from a jar, the poor bastard.
“You need to make her feel special. You need to spend the night with her tonight with no sex.”
“How’s come you think you know what I should do?” he asks.
Oh my gosh, he’s so stupid. “I’m just giving you some advice, if you don’t want it then don’t take it.”
“But wait just one dang minute. Did you say no sex? What the hell? Then what the hell are we supposed to do? Just rub each other’s privates with our hands?”
The mental picture I just got means I’m skipping dinner and will probably skip foreplay for the rest of my life. Oh well, at least Eric’s going to benefit from this.
“No. Look at me...I said no. No boob action and nothing down south either (which in her case is all pretty much the same). Nothing but smooching.” I am doing my best to speak his language. Ol’ Jeremiah ain’t none too bright. “Here’s exactly what you are going to do, now quit sitting here looking at me like you have a leech on your nuts, this is not the first time in history a guy has ever stayed with a girl without having sex.”
“Well, then what the hell we s’posed to do? Play checkers?”
“Umm…why not? There’s a checkers game in the Social Room. Do you get a break before your shift ends?”
“Not a scheduled one, but I can take fifteen here and there.”
“Listen up then. When we are done talking, which I hope to be soon, I want you to run to that little gas station, I think it called the “Fill-Trip” down on the corner before the interstate. I want you to go buy those little roses that come individually wrapped, get twelve of them, but for Pete’s sake take the wrappers off. Get a bottle of wine, but hide it good. Use the paper cups we get for rinsing our teeth as your wine glasses. Tonight you and Mary are going to have a date; wine and roses and games. Then lie down next to her and tell her how you really feel about her. See, Jeremiah, she needs to know that you want more than sex from her. You do, don’t you?”
“Yes ma’am I sure do. I never liked anyone so bad in all my life.”
“She needs to know that. You and I both know I’ve seen her chart. I think she needs a meaningful relationship. She needs to feel like you care about her, so try this and just see how it goes.”
“Whatever you say ma’am. I’ll try anything.”
“I’m afraid I’m going to need access to the janitor’s closet as well. You do a piss poor job of keeping these floors clean and in order to keep my mouth shut about this, I’m going to need some cleaning supplies. Got it?”
He looks confused, but pulls a key off of his bungee cord key chain. It must be a spare. He gets up from the chair and heads for the door, slowly, like he’s trying to remember everything on his to-do list.
“Oh and Jeremiah...one more thing to get at the store...”
“What is it?”
“Something chocolate...and with caramel...and King Size.”
“Okay, I can do that. You sure she likes chocolate?”
“Oh no Jeremiah, that’s for me. You can leave it on my dresser.”
Assorted Nuts
Oh, what a day this has been! Things were not supposed to get this complicated. I have a group session and maybe dinner if I get my appetite back. I’m just ready for my meds and then I can go to sleep. Tomorrow I will go to yoga and then see about leaving this place hopefully within the next day or so. I’m starting to really miss my boys, all four of them.
For now, I am going to rest for forty-five minutes. After I am all power-napped and yawned out, I decide to call Sabrina. She says she’s been worried about me being in trouble for our little “party” the other day. I tell her everything is fine and she tells me to let her know if I need anything, anything at all. She tells me that my boys are crazy and that Ben was in trouble when she went over there to check on them. Apparently, he decided that it would be a really exciting to try and clean the bathroom with hand soap. Sink, toilet, floors, walls and all. I guess the bathroom was so covered in Warm Vanilla Sugar bubbles that Eric shut the door and waited until my mother got there because he didn’t know what to do. I guess I am needed after all. Hell, that wouldn’t even bother me because it is soap. If it was syrup, or hair, or some other fluidy substance, it might put me in the fetal position and I’d be trying to pull out one of my canine teeth. However, soap is not a problem for me. I say, “Way to go Ben!” You clean that bathroom. If I were home, he wouldn’t have been in trouble. I would have simply showed him my Swiffer and Clorox wipes and we’d have had a good time. So I guess if that’s the worst thing that’s happened, they are in pretty good shape.
I check my face and curl my eyelashes to look alive. I throw on a gray sweatshirt and yoga pants to blend in, and then head to the Solarium. This group session tonight is not just for the pukers. It’s a delicious concoction of the depressed and manics, the obsessives, the compulsives, and the addicts. It’s for the anti-socials, the narcissists, the hair-pullers, the hair-eaters, (hopefully not sitting next to each other) and the phobics. It’s like a circus full of freaks and the group session is, in theory, to let us know that we are all in this together. It’s my first one of this kind and I am actually quite excited to see what goes on, although I plan to keep my mouth shut and just listen. This is not a required event, but why not go? When in Rome...
This is a decent turn out I would assume, although I have nothing to base it on. At least it looks like it. I’m guessing maybe forty of us sitting in the beautiful Solarium. All I can think now is that I should have brought a hand mirror. I would gaze in it and say, “Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s the craziest of us all?” Actually scratch that. I’m too afraid I would see my own reflection. And scientifically speaking, I would.
There are small trays of food placed around on the tables. I see mini-sandwiches and fruits and veggies with dip. I also see some bowls of assorted nuts, which is just fucking mean, given the situation we are in. Maybe I take things too personally. I find a cozy spot next to a beautiful and overweight woman who seriously has the prettiest face I have ever seen. Her black hair is wavy and shoulder-length. It is so shiny you can almost see your reflection bounce off of it. She has olive skin, bright green eyes with thick, long eyelashes, pretty full red lips, and I am completely awestruck by her beauty. She gives me a sweet smile and sits quietly. She must be a newbie too because she seems a bit out of place. I look around for anyone I might recognize. I see Jessalyn walk in, but she doesn’t see me and sits on a purple chaise lounge over in the corner. I do recognize a couple ladies I have seen at dinner, including the ones who ate my brownies. I wonder if it would be awkward if I talked to them now. Why would I, though? I’m not here to make friends.
The quiet noise of small talk comes to a halt when a tall and pretty black woman stands up. She is probably in her late forties and dressed in a purple suit.
“Good evening, ladies. I’d like to thank you all for coming to this session tonight. My name is Amelia Peters. As you may know, I am the administrator here at New Outlook. This particular group therapy activity is a relatively new idea. We believe that by exploring new methods of therapy and communication, we are giving our patients a better chance of recovery. By hearing the stories of others, even if they are different than yours, you will gain an understanding of what your peers are going through. My hope is that it may help you gain a better understanding of your own illnesses and experiences.”
The pretty lady and I are both on our second sandwich at this point. They are just little ones, for crying out loud. I have figured out these are turkey and Swiss, and it looks like the table down from us has some sort of BLT situation going on. I’m going to need to investigate this further as no one informed me there was bacon in the building. I get up half way and my back is in an arch.
I look like I am trying to dodge gunfire, but at least I’m making my way to the next table. Trying hard not to make eye contact, I grab up two BLT’s and shimmy my way back to my seat. I hand one to my new girlfriend sitting next to me who smiles gratefully and we enjoy. These were worth the trip.
I actually realize there are people standing up and talking. I must have zoned them out. I try my damndest to pay attention. An elderly woman goes on about her days as a prostitute and how she used to lot lizard the truck stops in Toledo. She has maybe two teeth that I can see, and she probably made a good living like that. Lots of fellas like the toothless gals at the truck stops from what I’ve heard on day-time talk shows. Apparently Ol’ Granny Gum-Some-Cum is having a hard time dealing with her loss of self-respect, so she’s taken to the meth. Well, that is not going to help her dental situation, but I guess you’ve got to give her some credit for standing up here talking about it. Apparently, this is her last stop on the intervention train. Her family has agreed to pay for her stay here as long as she’ll turn her life around. I just hope that if she makes it through recovery, they’ll throw in a set of dentures.
The Unbalancing Act Page 9