“It could, yes.”
“I wouldn’t want to give up my gardening.”
“It would be part-time. You can continue your work assignment, if you wish. The team feels you are ready for the next step, working toward discharge. I agree. I think you’re ready. Luanne?”
“Is …is that back in the OT building?”
“That’s the Sheltered Workshop, United Boxworks and Bugsy’s Fly Fishing. And that’s an option. The hospital supervises the workers, almost seventy-five of them. Their pace is slow, but their work is paid by the piece, so the companies are pleased.”
“I talked to Grace on our floor. She has a friend who works there, Jimmy Wildfong.”
“Jimmy’s one of our old-timers. I think he’s been at the hospital almost forty years. Some of the others, not that long, but most of them have been in the hospital awhile. We’re trying to expand, give some of the newer patients a chance to work for pay.”
“I’m interested. I think I could learn to fold boxes, but I’m not so sure about tying lures.”
“Well, as I said, that’s an option, but what I’m suggesting for you, Luanne, is a job outside the hospital.”
“Really?”
“Yes, we’ve expanded the program this year to include two placements downtown. It’s the first time we’re sending our patients out into the community to work. I think you’d be perfect for the program, Luanne.”
“You think I can do it?”
“Absolutely. You have retail experience and you’re making very good progress in your treatment.”
“I’d get paid?”
“Um-humm. I don’t know how much, not a lot.”
The thought of a job that pays something pushes me to take the risk. In occupational therapy, I’d torn rags for rugs used on the hall, hemmed dishtowels for the hospital linen closet. I’d done housekeeping before I got the gardening job. I worked hard, but never got paid.
The day is already sticky with heat, the kind of morning that leaves the meadows all misty, the first rays of sunlight setting the grasses aglow. The dew glistens on the thick lawns, held there by the humidity. On my way to Cottage 23, I stick to the walkways to keep my tennis shoes dry. Work crews of patients are setting up for the 4th of July Carnival near the bandstand. It’s early; I haven’t had much time to be anxious about my job interview.
Taking a deep breath, I step up the front stairs of Cottage 23 for my interview for the position at Murdock’s Fudge. Even though I’ve been told the cottage is non-secured during the day, I wait at the door a good ten minutes before I remember there’s no key man.
“Luanne? I’m Mrs. Braverman.” A tiny woman with big hair stands up and holds out her hand. As I shake it, the woman smiles, her lips pulling back over large yellow rabbit teeth. “I see you have a recommendation from Dr. Murray for the job opening at Murdock’s Fudge. Have you had any retail experience?” She smiles again, and motions for me to sit down. I try not to stare at the woman’s mouth.
“Yes. My first job was behind the candy counter at Woolworth’s when I was a senior in high school. After graduation, I got a job as a sales clerk at JC Penney. I was there three years, two more part-time …until my son got sick.”
“You have the experience. How do you feel about re-entering the work force, Luanne?”
“Pretty good. I know I have the skills and experience. I’m a little concerned about how I’ll handle customers who aren’t very nice, but Dr. Murray thinks I’ll do fine.” Actually, the thought of working outside the hospital terrifies me, meeting people, trying to act normal.
“The job starts right after Cherry Festival, three afternoons a week and will start at $1.15 an hour. That will increase to $1.20 after your probation.”
“That sounds great.”
“From here, you will attend an orientation right down the hall. Then you are scheduled for an interview with the shop owner, Mrs. Dietz, tomorrow.”
I calculate my pay, almost $15.00 a week, no need to rely on Mom for cigarette money. If Dr. Murray thinks I’m ready, I’ll give it a try.
After my orientation, I walk back to Building 50 across the lawns, stopping at the flower beds tended by the other gardeners. I sit down on a bench and raise my face to the sun. I’m starting to feel lighter. After my last med change, I feel more alive.
Thinking back, I can see it first came in pleasant surprises like the time I laughed with Isabel over my high school memories. I can’t exactly pinpoint when it started, but my thoughts are clearer. I’ve stopped planning ways to kill myself. But, with less medication, thoughts of Alexander’s illness and death creep into my mind— flashbacks, night terrors, and rage. The kitten dreams are becoming more frequent.
Dr. Murray calls dreams “the royal road to the unconscious,”, but she says she can’t take credit—she got it from Freud. Dr. Murray loves to explore dreams. Now she begins almost every session with “Any good bad dreams?”
I can’t help but pinch off a few deadheads as I pass my flower beds. It’s going to be a scorcher. My blouse is sticking to my back and it’s only ten a.m. I ring the bell and hurry in to change into my work clothes.
The next day, I catch the hospital van into town for my interview with the owner of Murdock’s Fudge. I wear a madras skirt and a white blouse from the emporium. The van lets me out at the corner and I walk half a block to the store. A bell jingles as I open the front door. The smell of chocolate makes my stomach lurch. An image of Alexander with a chocolate Easter bunny flashes in my mind. He was still eating last April, still looked and acted like himself, still laughed with excitement when he found his Easter basket.
“May I help you?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m Luanne Kilpi. Here about the job?”
The interview is short. Within ten minutes, I have the position. Mrs. Deitz shows me around the shop and talks to me about my duties. “Are you sure you can handle this, Luanne? I mean, we can’t have you being absent. You know, when you’re not …not feeling well.”
“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Deitz. I’m never sick.”
Chapter 34
Carl brings lunch and we sit down at a picnic table near the Willow Lake reflecting pool. We eat together on the days I’m not at Murdocks.
“I always thought I’d be passing the Reinbold wisdom down to my son someday, or daughter. Stewards of the land my dad called it.”
“My dad loved gardening, too.”
“Looks like you got his green thumb.”
“Yeah.”
“We got our work pretty much done for today, how ‘bout we go over to the old barns. I’ll take you on a tour, greenhouses and storage, too. You can see all old the farm machines. Heck, guess you’d call ‘em antiques now. I been drivin’ a Massey since I was seven years old. I remember Mother called and called to get me off the tractor and out of the fields to practice piano.” Carl laughs, takes a bite of his tomato sandwich.
“I saw some really big machines at the end of Yellow Drive.”
“Yup. Those are the snow removal rigs. We got a new Sno Cat last winter—Tucker 342. I’m backup driver when Stan Denny is off. Lordy me, that thing can howl. I wrestle the wheel, arms vibrating, jostling in the seat like I’m breaking a bronco. The Cat operates the same as my Massey, only difference is the tracks. The growl of the engine and the clattering of the steel tracks through the drive sprockets can be heard for two miles on a calm, crisp winter day. Over and above that, the grousers clack when I hit the plowed road. Man, I love driving the thing, as long as I remember my earplugs. Here, take one of these apples. MacIntosh.”
“Thanks.”
“’Bout ready?”
We drive down Blue Drive toward the abandoned barns. Carl tries one of his keys in the padlock. He leans back and slides the big door on its tracks. We step into a gigantic building, dust riding on beams of light through the cracks. Looks like searchlights coming from the ceiling. Cobwebs hang from the rafters and huge beams support barreled ceilings.
“Wow. Reminds me of a chur
ch.”
“Yup, yup, it’s somethin’ alright.”
“Where did the cows stay?”
“Well, there used to be a hayloft, a second floor, and the hay was dropped through that chute in the roof. See, right there. The cows were on this floor. They had their pens over against this wall, milking was done right down the middle here.”
“How many were there?”
“There’s two of these big dairy barns. Hundreds of cows, Luanne.”
“And you supervised the whole thing?”
“Yup. Never had any problems …well, that’s not exactly true. There was stealin’ goin’ on. A little semen here and there we could put up with, but then this guy Joe Doremire, he was a bad apple that one. He went a step further.”
“What happened?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Can you remember?”
“Yup. I can remember alright. Seems like it happened yesterday. It was during second shift. I was off, but drivin’ through after dinner in the canteen with Judy. There’s a truck parked where it shouldn’t be. I walked in and found a couple of guys by the calf pen. Them the new heifers? I asked.
“Yeah. Joe Doremire backed toward Ralph Langley.
“Bill of lading? I held out my hand for the paperwork.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m taking care of it, Carl. No need for you to be here on your night off, Ralph said.
“Well, I’m here now. Let’s see the paperwork. Ralph looks at Joe. Somethin’ was startin’ to smell bad.
“Give it to him, go ahead, Joe said. Ralph handed me the stack of papers.
“Ah, you’ll see it’s all in order, Joe said.
“I ran my finger down the page. Then I stepped closer to the pen, pointing around to each calf, counting out loud. We got ten calves in the pen, and the lading says ten, but the second sheet says twelve. I waited for the men to answer.
“We got ten here, Carl, Joe said. That’s easy enough to see. Must be a misprint on that second page.
“Hummmm. I walked over to the bulb hanging from the ceiling, held up the first sheet of paper. Somethin’ not right here. You boys got any idea why there’s been erasing on this, the Number 10 written on top, here?
“The men looked at each other. Nope, Ralph said.
“No idea. Joe shrugged and looked away.
“Where’s your vehicle?
“Why?
“Thought I saw a truck parked outside. Not in the designated parking lot.
“Don’t know, Joe said. Listen, Carl, what’s up your ass? We’re here trying to do our job. Now why don’t you leave and let us do it?
“I’m going outside and take a look at that truck. I started to walk toward the back entrance.
“Holy Christ, Carl. Ain’t no big deal. Hospital’s got more cows than they know what to do with. Joe threw up his hands.
“I caught ‘em red-handed.”
“Did they get fired?”
“Nah. There was stealin’ goin’ on all the time. Even now, leftovers from holiday dinners, chickens, turkeys, whole sides of beef come up missing from the meat lockers.”
“You mean they got away with it?”
“No. I didn’t say that. I reported them and they were reprimanded. The day Joe Doremire got kicked off the farming operation, it was like pulling a rotten tooth. He got transferred, but he’s still here—and he’s still trouble.”
Chapter 35
How was your leave, Beth?” Dr. Murray asks.
“A whole month. We missed you.” I really did miss Beth. And I’m happy for her—she got a home leave and will probably be discharged soon.
“It …I …discouraging.”
“How? Don’t your parents own a big house on the lake?” Heidi always seems surprised at Beth’s unhappiness.
“Home for the entire month of July. As soon as I got there, they suggested I play the piano, wondered if I would like to invite some friends up, watched every mouthful of food I ate. Unbelievable—they actually expected me to get into a swimsuit and participate in their pretentious summer rituals. Don’t they know everyone thinks I’m a freak?”
“I’m sorry to hear it was so difficult for you, Beth,” Dr. Murray says.
“I just wanted to stay in my room. But the first morning, my father cracked the door of my bedroom. Why don’t you come out on the dock, sweetheart? For goodness sake, open a window up here, it’s stifling. I’m freezing to death, even with a fisherman’s sweater, sweatpants and wool socks. We’re all out on the boat. Come down, sweetie. Thank God he left. I sat in my chair in front of the curved glass and watched them. Even with a wool afghan over my lap, I’m shivering. My fingertips are blue.
“I observed the show from my box seat. My parents entertained several couples on their cabin cruiser anchored near the dock. All the players wore beachwear, their bodies like burnt toast. The women wore large-brimmed hats, sipped drinks from tall glasses filled with crushed ice. Clones of my mother, they lined up across the bow on chaise lounges. The men stood at the stern, drinks in hand, watching the boats pass by, making comments about the women in swimsuits.”
“Why were you so cold?” Isabel says. “Didn’t you say you gained a little weight?”
“The weight started dropping off as soon as I got home. I tried to hide out in my room, but I walked a thin line with my parents. I watched my dad walk down the path, wearing his ridiculous captain’s hat. When he reached the end of the dock, my mother looked up and mouths something. He shook his head.
“Later I strolled down the path, waved to them. They both smiled and waved, then their friends smiled and waved. A couple of women motioned me toward the dock. I flashed a smile, shook my head, sat down on an Adirondack under the maples. So, I was out of the house at least. That should’ve pleased them.”
Dr. Murray folds her arms. “Beth, as I’ve said to you before, you are a master magician, adept at hiding inside yourself. It sounds like you were teetering on the brink of discovery.”
Beth runs her hand over her downy cheek. “Yes. How long could I hide Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Boy under my sweater? I’m covered with fur on my back and stomach. I shave my legs, but shorts are out of the question. My legs are thin, very thin.”
“Fur?” Autumn asks.
“Yes. It’s a soft downy fur, quite thick, actually.”
“It’s called lanugo, the body’s reaction to starvation, Autumn.”
“Jeez.”
“The last straw was later that night at a family cookout. My mother hits me with the big surprise. Honey, guess what? I ran into Wendy Beal and Lisa Stoppert, and they’d love to see you. I invited them to spend your birthday weekend with us. I can’t believe it. They’re not even at Interlochen anymore. I know she called them.
“I …I’m …I guess ran into them is the wrong way to say it. I talked to them on the phone and … She talks a mile a minute. I ask her point blank if she called them.
“Well, yes …Your friends are still here, sweetheart, they want to see you. I …I just wish you’d give it a try.
“I totally lose it. I stumble, fall onto the lawn, roll back and forth, retching with dry heaves. I’m like a maniac.”
“I don’t get it. Wasn’t your mother trying to help you?” Estee says.
“Are you kidding? Oh my god …my friends …see me looking like …like some kind of ghoul …carnival freak …lunatic. I had to stop her.”
“Okay, try to calm down, Beth. Take a couple of breaths.”
“I yell, Take it back. Take it back. Call them back right now. Please, Mother. Call them. Say you’ll call them … It’s kind of a blur, but I crawl across the grass and grab my mother by the ankle. CALL THEM! Please …please …call them and tell them not to come. Daddy? I’m desperate.
“My father is tending the shish kebobs. He just stares at me, tongs frozen in his hand. He comes over and rubs my back and assures me nobody will come. It’s a close call.” Beth leans back in her chair, her hands shaking, her thin hair wet with perspir
ation.
“Did this incident affect your eating?”
“Not really. To tell you the truth, I stopped eating.”
“I thought you said your parents were watching you,” I say.
“Well, it’s not that hard. As usual, I shove the food around on my plate trying to create empty spaces, the appearance of a meal in the process of being eaten. I nibble on a mushroom, and when my parents are engaged in conversation, I slide a chunk of steak from my plate and put it in my pocket. I always have my pockets lined with waxed paper just for that purpose. Later, as they watch the neighbors waving from their boat, I snatch another piece of steak. Toward the end of the meal, I manage to add the third cube to my pocket. My father always overcooks the meat, so there isn’t much grease to stain my clothes.”
I’ve never heard Beth talk so frankly about how deceptive she can be. Maybe she won’t be leaving the hospital after all.
Chapter 36
THE OBSERVER July 28, 1969
Page 3
HOSPITAL TAKES TOP PRIZE
Winner of the grand prize for the best float in the Cherry Festival Cherry Royale Parade is the Traverse City State Hospital! Photo by Jerry Wade.
Page 6
WHITE COATS IN COMPETITION FOR THE CITY TITLE
Our men’s softball team, the White Coats, have stolen another victory. They defeated the Bay Beachbums by two runs in extra innings. They are now tied with the Beulah Bombers for first place. Thanks everyone for turning out to support your team. See you at the tournaments!
Page 9
MORE FUN THAN A BARREL OF MONKEYS
The hospital community has been busy, busy, busy this summer. We had two great concerts at the bandstand, The Liberators, and Time Travelers. Marching bands played continuously on the front lawn of Building 50 during the Cherry Festival, and we have lots of opportunities for outings and field trips: Platte River Fish Hatchery, Sleeping Bear Dunes, Old Mission Point Lighthouse, and the hospital park. Our patients are the luckiest ducks in the north!
I’m riding shotgun with Carl on an outing to Old Mission Peninsula. He reaches from the driver’s seat, pulls the handle. The folding door to the bus squeals open as Dr. Murray hoists herself up the steps, sits in the first seat behind him. As Carl explains it, excursions outside the hospital are perks designed to keep the patients socialized and, more importantly, to demonstrate to the community that patients are just plain folks, like them. Staff members take turns volunteering as chaperones.
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