by E. C. Bell
I looked up. It was the woman who had told me about Building One. Guess we were going to talk.
“Were you a cook?” I asked.
“A chef,” she said. “’Til my life went off track.”
I didn’t ask how. Her being in that room, at that table, told me how. “What would you do to make the food better?” I asked.
“Fire the kitchen staff for starters,” she said, and then smiled when I snorted laughter. “You settling in?”
“No,” I said. “But I plan to get out of here soon. I got a lawyer and the whole nine yards.”
“Oh.” The woman looked down at her meal. “Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”
“It’s fantastic,” I said, and looked around. “Natalie’s still not back?”
The woman started, and then went back to avoiding my eyes. “I already told you,” she said. “She’s gone.”
“To Building One. Right?”
“No,” the woman said shortly. “I was just kidding about that. There are no patients there. Haven’t been for years. She’s probably in another hospital—or maybe in the medical unit here. She’s too fat. They’ve decided she has to be fixed.”
I shrugged. “She didn’t look that fat to me.”
“She used to be an athlete. Then her dad died, and she stopped playing . . .” She frowned. “I can’t remember what game she played. I’m sure she told me once, but I can’t for the life of me remember.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said softly.
“To me it does,” she replied and looked down at the mush, and the bib, and the wheelchair. “My memory is just about all I have left. I lose that, and I might as well die.”
The rest of the women at the table went absolutely silent as I desperately tried to think of something—anything—I could say that would calm her. I’d finally been able to get her to start talking, and I didn’t want her to stop now.
“If she only told you once, it probably didn’t stick,” I said. “Happens to me all the time.”
“Really?” The woman looked at me so hopefully that I almost felt sick.
“Really,” I said. “So, she stopped playing whatever game she played, and what? Took up eating instead?”
“Yeah.” The woman shrugged. “And some other stuff.”
“Other stuff?”
“Drinking and stuff.” She looked around as though suddenly afraid she’d be caught spilling the beans. “I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore. If Rafferty hears me, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Rafferty?” I asked.
“Julius Rafferty.” She looked around again and shuddered. “He’s one of the orderlies here. Bothers all the women. Well, not me, but you know what I mean. ‘Touch my dick, touch my dick,’ he says. ‘I’ll let you watch your favourite show, I’ll get you bubble gum, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch my dick.’”
Julius Rafferty was on my list.
“Why would he care if you talk about Natalie?” I asked.
“Because he was always on her case,” the woman said. “Always with the ‘I got food, touch my dick.’ He never left her alone.”
“Did she tell anyone what he was doing?”
“No,” she scoffed. “She wanted the food more than she wanted him to leave her alone. Besides, who would she tell?” She looked at me. “Has he bothered you yet?”
“No,” I said. “Should I feel left out?”
She snorted humourless laughter. “No,” she said. “He’ll probably get around to you, once they move you out of lockdown.”
“Away from the cameras,” I said.
She looked surprised, then smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “You’re quick. Most of us didn’t even realize there were cameras until—”
“Until?”
“Until Otto pointed them out.” She grabbed her spoon, filled it with the mush, and rammed it into her mouth. “I can’t talk about this anymore. I have to finish eating.”
I mentally put Otto, who was in my group, on my to-do list, and left the woman in the wheelchair to eat her meal in relative quiet. Wondered for a moment if I knew her name, and couldn’t remember if I’d ever heard it.
I’m as bad as her, I thought.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Juliette,” she replied, mush running down her chin. “Like the girl in that Shakespeare play. You know the one?”
“I do,” I said. And then I wondered what Shakespeare’s Juliette would have been like if she’d been allowed to live past fourteen. Maybe like this Juliette.
I never felt so saddened by anything in my life.
I WAS PSYCHOLOGICALLY preparing myself for my next session with Parkerson when Nurse Melodie walked into my room.
“Your session’s been cancelled,” she said. “Dr. Parkerson apologizes. She’ll be back after the weekend.”
“Where’s she gone?” I asked. I actually didn’t care. Was glad of the reprieve. I put down my hairbrush and walked to my bed. Sat down on the edge and stared at the small black dot on the wall and sighed.
It didn’t matter where she had gone, she was going to see everything anyhow.
“A conference in Denver. It was kind of a last-minute thing. That’s why she forgot to tell you about it. But you don’t have to worry, we are all here for you until she comes back. Understand?”
“Yes, I understand,” I said, though I didn’t. Conferences were rarely last-minute things. Who knew, though. Maybe it was. A last minute, spur of the moment conference in Denver that she forgot to tell me about.
I called bullshit.
I figured something personal had happened that had pulled her away from the hospital, and me. I almost laughed at that last thought. Like I had any impact on her comings and goings. I was just a small cog in this great big wheel. Someone else—out of hundreds, probably—she had to keep track of, figure out, and drug into submission.
“Can I get out of here for a while?” I tore my eyes from the little black dot and looked at the nurse. Her smile tightened for a second, but returned, full force.
“Out?” she asked.
“Out of this room,” I said. “You know, just for a while. Stretch my legs. Talk to somebody besides myself for a while.”
She blinked, her smile frozen. “I don’t know,” she said. “Dr. Parkerson didn’t mention you being allowed out—”
“She’s letting me eat in the cafeteria,” I said. “And she’s letting me out to group, and—” I was allowed to go to her office for our sessions. And that was all. But Nurse Melodie seemed to be considering, so I tried turning on the charm.
If I could get out of this room, even for a couple of hours, I could do a little investigating. I needed to talk to Juliette. Maybe Otto. And I needed to check out Julius Rafferty. I couldn’t do that in lockdown. So, I smiled for all I was worth.
“Just for a while,” I said. “Maybe I could watch some TV or something.”
“Let me talk to the staff,” she said, her smile back to warm and inviting. “You’ll need to have someone with you the whole time, you do understand, but if anyone steps up, I might be able to let you watch TV for an hour. How does that sound?”
Sounded horrible, to be honest, but I smiled back at her. “Great,” I said. “Sounds just great.”
“Well, get your hair brushed,” Nurse Melodie said. “And let me see what I can do.”
And then, she was gone, and I was alone with my hairbrush, and the little black dot on my wall. Watching me and watching me to make sure that everything I did was normal.
Ten minutes later the lock turned in my door. I expected to see Nurse Melodie, there to tell me that I was stuck in my room until the next morning for breakfast, so I was surprised when one of the male orderlies walked in.
“Marie?” he asked. His eyes crawled all over me, and I wished I hadn’t brushed my hair. Wished that I was dressed in something more than my pyjamas. Maybe a coat of armour or something, but I don’t even know if that would have blocked his gaze.
; “That’s me,” I said. I pulled my housecoat off the end of my bed and hurriedly pulled it on. “What do I call you?”
“Julius,” he said in a fairly smarmy cowboy drawl. I wondered where he was from. Nowhere near here, by the accent. I wondered if he was faking it.
“Are you Julius Rafferty?” I asked.
“That’s me,” he said, then frowned. “How did you know my name?”
I blinked, then smiled. “I think I heard somebody mention it in the cafeteria,” I said. “Or maybe it was from one of the nurses.”
“Oh,” he said. The frown wasn’t gone, but it had lessened. “From Nurse Melodie? The one who asked me to take you to the TV room?”
“It might have been,” I said. “I honestly can’t remember.” I smiled and pointed at my head. “I’m on a lot of drugs. I can barely keep a thought in my head for a minute at a time.”
He finally smiled. “Like a goldfish,” he said, and cackled rough laughter.
I didn’t understand, and he could obviously tell from the expression on my face. “Goldfish can only keep a thought in their heads for a few seconds,” he said. “Just like a lot of you.”
“Oh,” I said, then faked laughter. It did not sound convincing to me at all, but he seemed to believe it. “Yeah, just like that. You going to take me to the TV room?”
“If that’s what you want, little lady,” he said.
“Yeah,” I replied. Even though I didn’t want to go anywhere with this guy, I really didn’t want to be alone in this room with him for any longer. There was a camera, sure, but it would take someone time to come to my assistance if he tried anything. He was a creep and deserved to be on that potential bad guy list. I could just tell.
I walked to the door, acutely aware of him standing behind me—too close—and pushed it open. “Which way?” I asked when I was out in the hallway.
He pointed in the direction of the rec area where I’d met with my father. “Go ahead,” he said. “I gotta lock up your room.”
I shuffled down the hallway. Heard the lock click, and then heard his shoes on the highly polished floor as he walked up behind me. Felt my skin prickle and crawl as he placed a hand on my shoulder, and then slid it down my back to my hip.
I jerked away from him.
“Just making sure you’re safe,” he said. I noticed the drawl slipped. Fake. Of course. “Sometimes the drugs you’re on can make you unsteady on your feet.”
I felt his hand back on my shoulder again and wanted to punch him in the mouth for touching me. “I’m fine,” I said. “Leave me alone.”
“I just wanted to ask you a question,” he said. He was walking beside me now and pushed his hand across my back and around my far shoulder until he was holding me in a really unwanted hug.
“What?” I tried to think of a way to knock his hand off me without causing a scene, because I dearly wanted to get to the area with the TV and see if I could chat with some of the others about the people on my list. Including this creep. Couldn’t come up with a darned thing, and so had to suffer smelling his too-strong aftershave and coffee breath.
“I just wondered if there was anything that you needed,” he asked.
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, you know,” he said. “Candy, or something.” He glanced around, and then leaned his head closer to mine and lowered his voice. “Booze. Or maybe some blow. You know, whatever you’d like. I can get it for you.” He laughed again and hugged me even closer. “It’ll make the time go faster,” he said, and I felt his fingers running up and down my arm. “Know what I mean?”
“I do,” I said. I tried to jostle his arm away, but he just clung tighter. “And what would you want in return?”
“Oh, we’ll come up with something,” he said. “But let’s keep it between us, OK? Don’t need to get the nurses all in a lather, do we?” Then he hugged me once more, so hard it hurt.
“No,” I said. “Wouldn’t want that.”
Finally, we were at the rec area, and he let me go. The room was half full. People were scattered about, one or two to a table, with a dozen or more huddled around the television attached to the wall next to the shelf full of old board games and jigsaw puzzles. Two ghosts were sitting with the TV watchers, but I didn’t recognize either of them, so I figured I probably wouldn’t have a problem with them trying to talk to me. I could just ignore them the way everybody else did.
“You wanted TV, right?” Julius said. I nodded. “Well, head on over,” he drawled. “I’ll be right there,” and he pointed at the far wall where other orderlies were huddled together. “You got an hour.”
I wound between the tables, scanning for people I knew that I could talk to about my “bad guy” list. I was looking for my meal companions—specifically for Juliette. I had the feeling she’d been in this place long enough to have dirt on everyone.
I didn’t see her, but I did see Otto, the schizophrenic from group. And he saw me.
He waved at me from his place at a table with three others from group. “You wanna join us?” he called. “We got room!”
I did want to talk to him, but not at a table full of people. I wasn’t ready to let everyone know I what my business was. And Otto was too loud and attracted way too much attention. I shook my head. “I’m here to watch TV,” I said. “But thanks.”
“Oh, TV’s no good this time of day,” he yelled. “And we’re playing Monopoly! Come on! It’s fun!”
It didn’t look like anyone at that table was having much fun, and then I noticed that most of the people at the other tables had stopped what they were doing and were staring at Otto—and me. This included the two ghosts. Didn’t want their attention, so I plastered a smile on my face to keep things light. “Monopoly does sound like fun,” I said. “I guess I’ll join you.”
Otto beamed and grabbed a chair from the next table over. Pulled it next to his and patted the seat. “I’ll teach you how to play,” he said as I sat down. “You can have a couple of properties, and some money. We’ll all give you some—”
“That’s communism!” one of the other people at the table screeched. I recognized him. Ralph, from group, who thought his wife was trying to kill him. “I’ll have no communists playing my game.”
I could see Otto gearing up, so I laughed and said, “No communists here. How about if I just watch?”
That seemed to appease Ralph, but Otto didn’t look happy, so I tried again.
“I can learn better if I watch,” I said. “It’ll be fun.”
That was probably the biggest lie I’ve ever told in my life, because I couldn’t imagine anything less fun than watching the last half of a Monopoly game, but everyone calmed down, and play resumed.
“So, what do you think of Nurse Melodie?” I asked after everyone took a turn. Ralph was kicking butt, and I understood his “communism is bad” statement. He looked up at me and glared.
“We’re playing a game here.”
“Sorry,” I replied. “Just trying to get the lay of the land, you know? Who I can trust and who I can’t.”
“Oh,” Ralph said. “All right, then.” He picked up the dice and rolled, even though it wasn’t his turn, and then cheated on the count so he landed on one of his own properties. He glared at me again, as though challenging me to say anything. When I didn’t respond, he smiled. “Melodie’s a pretty good egg,” he said.
“Better than Bitch Willoughby,” a young man I didn’t recognize said. “She’s a nasty one.”
He reached over, stole Otto’s pile of one hundred dollar bills and stuffed them in the pocket of his housecoat. Otto didn’t notice. It appeared that he’d been mesmerized by the clapping and cheering emanating tinnily from the television.
“Oh,” I said. “Why do you think she’s nasty?”
“She pinches,” Otto said. He didn’t turn away from the direction of the television. “And she’s always in a hurry.”
“And she never smiles,” the money thief said.
Everyo
ne around the table nodded. Apparently never smiling was the worst sin around here. Not the most helpful information in the world, but maybe there was something to it. If she hated working here, maybe she hated the patients too.
Otto managed to pull himself away from the lure of the TV and turned to face us again. “She’s better than Nurse Melodie, though,” he said. “That one creeps me the heck out.”
Ralph sighed. “We’ve already established that Nurse Melodie is much better than Nurse Willoughby,” he said. “Try to keep up, Otto.”
Otto’s face spasmed and his hands clenched. “You are absolutely wrong,” he said. “Nurse Melodie is the devil or something. Smiling all the time, but all she thinks about is hurting us.” He glared at Ralph. “You’d understand if you had my abilities.”
“And what abilities would those be?” Ralph asked acidly. “The ability to get yourself locked up ’cause you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut?”
Otto quivered. “I have abilities,” he said, his voice rising. “And you know it. Just because the doctors can’t recognize what I’m able to do . . .” He gathered himself, and I realized he was preparing to flip over the game. Possibly the table. Which would bring the staff down on us like a swarm and end my visit to the rec area.
I laid my hand on Otto’s arm. “He’s not saying you don’t have abilities, are you, Ralph?” I glared at Ralph, and he nodded quickly. He didn’t want the game to be over any more than I did.
“That’s right,” Ralph said. “You definitely got abilities.”
“Why are you always bugging me about them, then?” Otto asked.
“Just to get a rise out of you,” Ralph said. “Come on, you know me. Always joking. Let’s finish the game.”
Otto looked down at the board like he’d never seen it before, then sighed and relaxed back into his chair. “Whose turn is it?” he asked.
“Mine,” Ralph said, even though it wasn’t. He reached for the dice again, and everything was as it was before.
They played a round, everyone finally having a turn, and I figured things had calmed down enough that I could ask about more people on my list.
It looked like Ralph and Otto knew everyone who worked here. I quickly found out that the two names on the list I didn’t recognize belonged to two janitors who worked in Building Ten.