Reading with the sounds of rain is a relaxing experience and I’m sure that I may actually be enjoying myself. I look up and Lauren Sanders is walking past me. She sits on a bench in the bay window and looks out. Crap, it’s raining on her “birthday...”
I abandon my coffee and book and I slowly walk over to the bench, which is long enough for three people, so I just act like I came to watch the rain. I can see she is crying.
“Hey...um,” I say nervously, “My name is Vada.”
“Hello, I am Lauren.” She is wiping her eyes and trying to smile.
“I heard you talk last night in group and I just wanted to tell you, Happy Birthday.”
“Thanks, shithead,” she says and then looks back out the window.
Should I get up? Should I go back and read? Then she turns and looks at me and smiles. She actually looks pretty normal when she smiles. Her hair is chestnut brown and shoulder length. Up close, I can see she has freckles and is actually kind of cute. She has prominent laugh lines around her smile. She almost reminds me of a junior high schooler in an awkward phase, only she’s an adult and schizophrenic...really though, what’s the difference?
“Did you just say what I think you said?” she asks.
She looks at me bewildered and I don’t know if she’s going to start swinging at me or hug me. She stands up and says, “Come, follow me.”
She takes me down the long hallway, a separate wing from mine with much nicer carpet. It looks brand new and spotless. I’m walking behind her and I realize I am shaking because my nervous anxiety is about to completely overtake me. She stops at 214 and opens her door. Her room is pretty similar to my own. It’s a single with a sitting area and a bathroom. I take a seat and she goes over and pulls out a box from under the bed. It’s a photo box, red and green plaid.
She motions me over and before I know it we are both sitting criss-cross applesauce on her bed and she is showing me pictures. There are pictures from her birthday parties growing up. It looks like she had a fairly good set of birthday parties in her life and maybe she just can’t let them go.
“Is that your husband?”
“That was my husband, until the bastard left me for some woman that he got pregnant, while we were married. She has large bouncing bosoms,” she says angrily.
There is that word again! “Well, my goodness, Lauren, I am so sorry to hear that.”
We keep looking through pictures. I notice that her mother is in the photos when she is just a little girl, and she did appear to have a large rack, but then it appears she is with different families. Interesting. Where is her mother in the rest of these photos?
“Lauren, forgive me if I sound nosy, but who are these people with you in these pictures?”
She pulls one out. “That was my first foster family. They were shitheads.” This photo is a young Lauren with a man, woman and twin boys. They look pretty normal. “Here is the second.” She hands me another picture of herself only a little older and standing with an elderly looking couple. “And this was my last one and I killed them,” she says.
Oh bloody hell! I am with a murderer on her birthday. Oh my Lord, be with me. I need to get out of this room.
“I didn’t kill them...on purpose. You see, they took me in after the second family got sick of me and then Papa Rick, that’s what I called him and Mama JoAnn, that’s what I called her, well they got in a car wreck and died. They were the only ones who ever really loved me, besides my mother. They never could have children of their own, so they got me instead. I know they wanted a child like me. They wanted one who was natural and able to hunt. We used to go hunting together.”
“Oh I am so sorry, Lauren! That must have been terrible for you, how old were you?”
“I was just about to turn sixteen when they died. I have lived in group homes ever since. I keep telling these shitheads that I can take care of myself. I know how to hunt and I can make a place for myself down at the river.”
Shit, this is just awful. “So Lauren, what happened to your birth mother?”
“She was too poor to take care of me and turned me over to the state. But I know she loved me. She kept me alive as long as she could. She dropped me off at a center when I was eight years old.” Lauren looks so sad, and then she smiles and says “It’s my birthday today!”
“I know, Lauren! Happy birthday!” Then suddenly, I have a thought. “Lauren, would it be okay if I came back around five this afternoon to visit?”
She looks confused. “Yeah, sure,” she says, “See ya then.”
I stand up and give her a hug and head for the door.
“Hey, shithead,” she says and I turn around briefly, “thanks for looking at my pictures.”
“Anytime.”
She smiles and I shut the door softly behind me. I think we have just become bosom buddies.
Hypnosis
I head to Dr. Ames’ office for my noon session.
“Hello, Miss Vada,” he says as I come and sit on the comfy couch.
“Hello,” I say back.
“You look a little uneasy today, a little nervous perhaps. Is everything okay?”
No, everything’s not okay. I just had a sit down with the orphaned birthday girl who eats beavers and loves bosoms, and I don’t know what to think. I don’t even know what the hell just happened back there.
“Yes, everything is fine. Rainy day, huh?”
“Yes, everyone around here seems to have a hard time on these rainy days,” he says with a smile.
Well, apparently everyone but you, doc. You seem pretty happy, but I’m guessing it is because you just ate what smells like a Reuben sandwich for lunch, and there’s a little piece of sauerkraut hanging from your big fat mouth.
“Oh, not me. I love the rain!” I say.
“Good then. We are going to try some hypnotherapy today, Miss Vada. That means that I will be putting you under hypnosis. It’s nothing to be alarmed about, just relax and keep an open mind. Before we begin, I have one more question. No more suicidal thoughts, correct?”
Only if I have to see that kraut hanging from your chin for much longer. It may actually drive me crazy enough where I have to hang myself with your lamp cord because it’s so gross and you are making me not want to live.
“Of course not, Dr. Ames, I’m not anywhere near that frame of mind. Actually, since coming here, I think I may be better off than I realized.”
“Well then, that’s wonderful. Are you ready to begin with the hypnosis Vada?”
My Sam Kinison internal dialogue kicks in...YES, but get the fucking briny pickled cabbage off your motherfucking faaaaaace!!!
“Yes, let’s rock and roll Dr. Ames.”
“Hmm...I like your enthusiasm. Vada, do you remember how we talked about this being your safe place? Your box? (haha) I want you to feel completely relaxed. Do you feel completely relaxed Vada?”
I nod.
“I’m going to ask you to picture a place where you feel the most comfortable in the world. The only noise you can hear is my voice.”
I’m imagining being curled up in my bed with Eric and my boys all sleeping and I can hear Dr. Ames’ voice. This must be working.
“Okay Vada, when I count down from ten you will fall asleep. Remember you are safe, relaxed, and remember to listen to my voice....10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2.......
“Vada, are you with me? Are you back in my room? In Dr. Ames’ office?”
“Yes. Am I done? Did you already do it?
“Yes Vada. We are all finished. How are you feeling?”
“I’m feeling rested I guess. Well thanks a lot Dr. Ames. That was fun, a real good time. I hope I didn’t say anything stupid.”
“Oh Vada, I do not judge. You did reveal some things to me. Do you recall what you experienced?”
“Honestly, no I don’t. Will you tell me?”
“Vada, or Vadie as you refer to yourself, I will, but I think it is best that I talk to Dr. Lipton and some of the other therapists before I ha
ve you recall that information. I don’t want to alarm you. It is nothing serious, just standard procedure following hypnotherapy.”
“Well...okay Dr. Ames. I guess I will see you next time.”
“Next time, Miss Vada,” and he nods with a goofy-ass smile as I walk out the door.
I do know one thing. I must have told him there was sauerkraut stuck to his face because it was gone when I came out of hypnosis.
I walk out of the room and notice Gerri, the plastic-face nurse, immediately entering his office and she shuts the door behind her. Something strikes me as odd about this. Call it an intuition, but I walk backwards until I am next to his office. The blinds are pulled so I can’t see in, but I press my ear up to the door. I hope nobody catches me trying to listen in. Just when I think I am wasting my time and need to mind my own business, I hear a moaning sound. It’s Gerri. I swear there is more action in this nuthouse than in a cathouse! He’s married. He’s a scumbag.
“Fuck me like a whore!”
That was Gerri’s voice. Did she really just say that? Eww...so gross. I don’t like the thought of the two of them getting it on, but I can only imagine it would be similar to him humping a blow-up doll. This is too much for me. I just came out of hypnosis; I need to wrap my mind around this. It’s really none of my business, but I hate cheaters. I’m not going to say anything because I don’t want to start trouble, but he’s a pig and have no respect for him...or her for that matter.
I can’t imagine saying that to Eric. I must be so lame. I can’t imagine what breakfast would be like the next morning after asking him to screw me like a whore the night before. I can just see the kids around the table and myself filling up juice glasses and pouring cereal. I’d probably have to eat breakfast in the other room, because I couldn’t look him in the eye. Poor Eric, I am so dull.
I’m getting ready to move along and pull my ear away from the door, when I feel an itching in my nose, I can’t hold it back. I sneeze, a big loud sneeze. Shit! I stand frozen. I don’t want them to see my footsteps outside the door. I hear nothing but silence. Their noisy screwing seems to have come to a halt due to my involuntary expulsion of nose air. They heard me. In a state of panic I take off down the hallway. I don’t know where to go. I just hope they didn’t know it was me, who was listening in.
I am disturbed, but I shake it off and decide to look for Jessalyn. The rain has stopped. I check the Social Room and find her sitting alone and drawing with colored pencils.
“Hey, you lady,” I say.
“Look who it is...the mysterious Vada.”
“So when in the hell are you busting out of this place?” I ask.
“Tomorrow actually.” She looks down.
“Why don’t you look excited?”
“I called my aunt for a ride and to see if I can stay with her and all she can talk about is this damn birthday party for my grandfather. Blah...so what was this big “idea” of yours anyways?”
“You really wanna hear it?”
“Hell, what have I got to lose besides the six pounds I’ve worked so hard to gain?”
“Ha ha...very funny, you skinny little bitch. I think I have an idea for a present on your grandfather’s birthday.”
“Not cool, Vada. What are you talking about?”
“Look, I know that drawing over there in the frame is yours, I can tell because she looks like you and clearly, you draw.” I pointed to what she was drawing now, which looks kind of like a superhero lady with huge muscles and a cape.
“Yeah, so what?”
“Well, she’s missing a mouth, stupid. I think you should get a present on his birthday, not him. It’s time to give you a voice. We are going to expose that sick prick for what he really is. No wonder you are such a damn mess, no offense, but you’ve kept this secret all these years for him! For him! Not for yourself. You said the other night you wanted to talk about it and I think it’s time, don’t you?”
“What’s the point now Vada? He’s so old and it’s over.”
“But it’s not over for you, Jess. If it was over for you, you wouldn’t be in this place getting help. You are still suffering after all these years. I say we let him suffer for a while, hell he’s ninety anyways, he ain’t gonna live forever.”
“I may have to think about this...”
“Of course. Think about it and let me know. I’m here to help if you decide to go through with it.”
Jessalyn sits quietly and stares out the window, twirling her hair. I grab her hand and give it a comforting squeeze, and then get up to leave. She grabs it tighter, pulls me back and says, “Vada, I’ve thought about it long enough. Let’s show everyone who their hero really is.”
I immediately make a call to Sabrina. Like I said, she’s there whenever I need her. I give her instructions and tell her I will make every effort to meet her tomorrow night. We have a party to crash, and I’ve got to think of a way to sneak out of here.
Mission for Cake
I am now on a mission to find some cake. I walk back toward the kitchen area and find two ladies straight from lunch lady land preparing the trays for tonight’s dinner. The larger one with glasses is going on about how her children never call unless they need something. She says that’s all she’s been good for over the years, free babysitting or money out her savings to help with car repairs. The little one is scooping out some sort of cherry pie filling into cups. Hmm...wonder what that’s for. It looks good. I don’t think little lunch lady is listening to a single word big lunch lady is saying. She’s just concentrating on her task.
I walk up slowly and pull out a gun. I’m just kidding. I walk up slowly and clear my throat to get their attention. They both look up surprised.
“Hi ladies, how are you today?” I ask as sweet as sugar.
They look at each other almost frightened. I wonder if any of the crazies have ever talked to them before. I’m guessing that would be a no, considering their deer in headlights looks.
“Should we call security?” says big lunch lady to little lunch lady.
“Umm...really, I’ll leave. I just needed a favor and I thought I would just see if you could help me out with something. If it’s too much trouble then never mind.”
Big lunch lady turns to little lunch lady and says, “See, even the crazy girl only comes to talk to us if she needs something.”
“Oh, now you be nice, Gloria,” says little lunch lady. “What can we help you with, sweetie?”
Ooh yay. Now I’m sweetie. Little lunch lady likes me and now we are getting somewhere.
“Well, I have a friend, see, and I really need a cake.”
“Oh dear Lord, she must be one of them crazy schizophrenic women and she has an imaginary friend. I’m calling security.” Gloria throws her hands up and heads for the phone, her jowls shaking this way and that in frustration.
“Stop it Gloria, right now. I’m sick of you always thinking everyone’s out to get you all the time, always complaining. This girl looks no more crazy then you or me. Well, at least me.” Ouch.
Gloria, although obviously annoyed at the situation, decides to pipe down.
“Alright, sweetie, my name is Loretta and you just tell me what kind of cake you need,” says little lunch lady.
Loretta sounds like she may be from the south. She’s a little bitty old grandma with gray hair that’s probably long, but is tucked in a twist behind her head. She has on hot pink lipstick and pink cheeks to match. Her eyebrows are drawn on in brown pencil, which doesn’t match her hair, but does seem to match her sweet personality. I think she’s as cute as a bug and lucky for me she’s kind of feisty too.
“Thank you so much ma’am. I need a white sheet cake with pink icing.”
“Come back in an hour, sugar, and I’ll have it ready,” Loretta says with a hot pink smile.
Gloria just goes back to her trays shaking her head, mumbling under her breath like one of them crazy schizophrenic women.
My Gang
So now that I have a ca
ke ordered, I’m not sure what to do next. I figure that if I’m going to throw Lauren Sanders a birthday party, I can’t do it alone. I need to recruit New Outlook’s finest. I must gather the elite society of the mentally ill. Of course I snatch up Jessalyn, who is busy preparing letters for tomorrow, but she can take an hour. I fill her in on the plan and then she and I go on a search. Where do the cool kids hang out in the asylum? Jessalyn tells me she has seen Lauren hanging out with a panic attack chick and they seem to have become chummy. I don’t know her name but I’m calling her Panicky Pearl. We find her and invite her along. She seems pleasant enough and whatever kind of dope they have her on must be working because she doesn’t seem to be panicking, at least for the moment. I ask Katelyn because she is not that busy and she’s a freaking nurse for crying out loud. She should be there in case we need her. Plus, she’s sweet. I think we need at least one more to come along...hmm...Bath Salts Mary? No. The toenail biter in the south corner with no bra and dirty hair? No. Then it hits me, what about that sweet little lunch lady, Loretta? She’s so grandmotherly and warm. I’m sure she would join the party.
The Unbalancing Act Page 11