Rick remained standing until Hefner ushered Clara inside. He offered her a seat, but she would not sit. Instead, she paced back and forth. Her eyes were wide and glazed. She never once looked at him. He took in a long breath, then let it out. All the work they’d done, the modicum of trust they’d formed. Was it all gone? What the hell had happened this weekend?
Rick took his seat and watched her pace. Six steps to the right, spin on a heel, six more steps. She had a bandage above her right eye. His index finger instinctively touched the scar under the combed-over hair on his forehead—in the same place as her bandage.
Rick wondered how to open up the conversation. “I see you’re wearing a new shirt. Or should I say a clean shirt.” Damn, was that truly the best he could come up with? The T-shirt was cute, light blue with a yellow happy face on the front.
Clara stopped in her tracks. She gazed down at the shirt as if she’d never seen it before. “My red one got ripped on Saturday when they threw me in seclusion again. Miss Miller was here this weekend. She let me get into my closet yesterday for a new shirt before she locked it up again.”
“What happened?”
“I just got out of that fucking room on Saturday!” Clara began pacing again, her arms swinging like pendulums. She muttered so Rick could only hear about every other word. “Friday…things happening…Mr. Royal…play.” Her fists opened and shut.
“Clara, can you please talk so I can understand you?”
She kept walking, but spoke in clearer tones. “Saturday, I went to the cafeteria for dinner and as soon as I sat down, Kevin grabbed my apple off my tray.”
Rick wondered what happened on Friday. It was obviously something to do with Mr. Royal. Rick decided to let Clara wear out one subject then bring her back to the other.
She stopped in front of the chair and abruptly slumped into the seat. “I hate the food here. Everything is fried and it tastes nasty. I like the fruit a little, though. It’s mostly the only thing I eat.” Clara’s head drooped and she began grinding her teeth. “I was already mad. I flipped out.”
“What did you do?”
“I grabbed him by the throat and tackled him to the floor. The guards held me and then that bitch…” Clara stopped in mid-sentence. She rubbed the bandage above her eye while shaking her head in frustration.
“Go on, what’s going through your head right now? Talk to me.”
Clara looked up at him with round brown eyes. “I’m losing it, Mr. Rasner. I know I am! I can feel it.” Clara’s bottom jaw trembled as she spoke. “I hate this place! I hate the people! I need to get out of here and I can’t. I’m so…so…”
“Angry?” Rick finished her sentence.
“Yeah. I know you and everyone say I have to control my anger and I’m trying. I really am.”
“I know you are, Clara.”
“It’s getting harder to do, even with the fucking pill they shove down my throat every morning that’s supposed to keep me calm. I don’t think I can do it anymore.” She sighed. “And I don’t know if I even want to.”
“I know it’s not easy but…”
“It’s not easy! Every day Mr. Royal yells at me, calling me crazy, psychotic, deranged. It’s not fair! He gets me mad and then Miss Miller, she…”
Tears poured down Clara’s face. Rick reached out and placed his hand over hers, but she jerked it back. Rick placed his hands under the desk to make her less uncomfortable.
“They all keep throwing my grandmother in my face, asking me how she would feel about the way I act!”
“And you…” Rick’s question was interrupted by the thump of Clara’s foot kicking the front of his desk.
“My grandmother abandoned me! She doesn’t even call or nothing! I don’t care what she thinks anymore.”
The last was said with such sadness Rick couldn’t look her in the eyes any more. His every instinct shouted for him to tell Clara exactly what her file said about communications with her grandmother. Wouldn’t that ease her feelings of disdain toward the woman? But he couldn’t, the notation on the file made that very clear.
“Miss Miller hates me, and that’s fine because I hate her too! She’s always yelling at me, or getting that asshole guard to beat the shit out of me. I just want to…I wish…” Clara’s face pinched, filled with rage.
“What would you do, Clara?”
Her lips were clenched into a straight line. “I want to kill that bitch so bad!”
“If you did kill her, you would get out of here, but it wouldn’t be better. Do you know where you would end up?”
“Jail.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No, but it’s not fair. I don’t know what I did to deserve this life. My mother used to beat the shit out of me. Then my father gets locked up. Then the family workers threw me in some group home where I got beat up. Then they throw me in this place to get beat up all over again. My life just keeps going from bad to worse.” Clara grabbed her head with both hands and tapped it with her fingers. “Maybe it was the judge who put me in here, I don’t remember. You know, I never heard from any of them since I got here. It’s like I’m just completely forgotten.”
Rick remained silent, battling his own demons, while Clara calmed herself.
“Life can seem unfair, I know.” Rick spoke slow and clear. “You have the power to help make things easier on yourself. Do you know how?”
“Control my temper. I know. I’ve heard that from everyone all my life.”
“Yes. And as we’ve discussed before, understand who has the power. Show them the respect they’re asking you for…”
Clara launched from her seat and slammed her fists on the desk. “They don’t deserve my damn respect!” That said, she dropped back into her seat. The sudden awkward moment of silence left both uncomfortable.
Rick broke the silence first. “You do understand who has the control in this place, Clara?”
“Not me.”
“No, not you. But the more you defy the ones who do, the more they can make things difficult for you.”
“My life is made difficult! So what do I do when everything about my life sucks and I can’t get out of it, Mr. Rasner?” Clara finally looked at Rick. He knew she waited for an answer. A way out of this mess. He couldn’t give it to her. How could he when he faced the same demons in his own life every day?
“I hope you’re not talking about killing yourself.”
“No…no, I won’t off myself. I’m a survivor. But I really hate it here. I want to leave. If I can’t, well, I thought I wanted to die, but I really want to see Miss Miller die.”
“Wishes won’t fix your problem, but if you can’t get out of the situation, then try to change it from within. If the problem is the class you’re in, maybe that’s the change you need. Perhaps I could speak to Miss Miller about moving you up a grade. You’ll be with kids closer to your own age and you’ll have a different teacher. It would be like a fresh start for you.”
Rick expected to see a glimmer of optimism, but instead saw even less hope than before. “I would do anything to get out of the class. But that evil bitch will never let me do it. She likes to watch me suffer.”
“Let me try.” Rick smiled but he had a feeling Clara was correct.
The door to the therapy suite unlocked; Sharon Hefner and Mr. Royal stepped in. “Clara, return to class immediately,” Hefner ordered.
Clara stared at Hefner. Rick was also surprised by the sudden and unexpected interruption.
“Come on, girl, I’ll escort you.” Hefner turned her attention to Rick. “Miss Miller wants to speak with you right away.”
She led Clara out by the arm. Both Royal and Clara exchanged dirty looks as Clara clumped past.
“I need to speak to you first,” Royal said.
He watched the Security Director close and lock the door. Then he crossed to Rick’s desk and glared down at him. Rick almost told him the intimidation treatment wouldn’t work, but didn’t bother.
; “Did Clara say anything to you regarding the trouble she had Friday afternoon?”
“To what exactly are you referring?”
“Clara made some ridiculous and dangerous accusations about me. Needless to say, we don’t need allegations from an irrational, and clearly psychotic, child, do we?”
Rick attempted to process what he considered an unusual and possibly hazardous discussion. This must be what Clara alluded to at the outset.
“Are any of her accusations true?”
Royal’s posture assumed an uncomfortable attitude. “Of course, they’re not true. I have reason to believe she was not under the influence of her normal pharmaceutical component. She tends to spit out her morning pill on occasion. It was apparent on Friday she must have done just that.”
“I wasn’t aware.” Rick stood up from his chair. He really wished he could stay and urge information from this moronic teacher, but Miller was waiting. He had a feeling she wouldn’t tolerate tardiness on his part. “If you’ll excuse me.”
Rick attempted to make his way around the desk, but Royal grabbed his sleeve and peered down into his eyes. Rick wanted to but didn’t shake off the contact. “If she says anything suggesting wrong intent on my part, I know you’ll come and tell me immediately. And then we keep it between us. After all, we need to watch out for one another around here.”
Rick wasn’t agreeing to anything with this person. He tried to yank his shirt from the man’s grasp, but Royal’s fingers only tightened. Rick’s headache surged to the front. Pressure and pain nearly buckled his knees. He managed to convey only one response. “No problem.”
Satisfied, Royal released him. Rick hurried out of the office, unsure what to do. The rules said he was supposed to keep the door locked at all times, but still, no one had brought him a key and his officemate, Janet Murphy, was late. He decided to leave the door and worry about it later. As he walked down the hallway, he noticed Hefner eyeing him from outside the open doorway of Royal’s classroom.
“Someone needs to lock my office door,” Rick said to her.
“Where’s your key?”
“It stopped working. I reported it the other day and was told I’d be issued another, but…” He let the sentence hang and hurried to Miss Miller’s office.
As Hefner twisted the key in the lock, Royal bent and whispered something in her ear.
Chapter Seventeen
An hour and forty-five minutes later, Katherine Miller had yet to summon Rick into her office. He’d heard she often did this. It was an intimidation tactic. In his case, she was probably making him do penance for his tardy appearance. He tried, but could hear nothing coming from inside. Surely, if she were on the phone, he’d hear the murmur of voices.
No bench and no chairs here. Probably another way to intimidate. Rick alternated from leaning nonchalantly against the wall to pacing in a two-step circle near the secretary’s desk. The secretary, a spare woman with short, gray curls and wire-rimmed spectacles, typed on a keyboard in front of a huge flat-screen monitor.
Suddenly, Miller burst from her office and marched past him as if he wasn’t even there. She approached the secretary. The woman didn’t cower per se, but her fingers arched on the keyboard and remained tense as Miss Miller barked, “I am sick and tired of speaking to the parents and guardians of our patients about absolute nonsense! Do you really think I have nothing better to do than to take these calls?”
“The mother insisted on speaking with you.”
“If these outside people need to speak to someone over such issues, you put the calls to the therapists. That is exactly what they are for!” Miller motioned in Rick’s direction without looking at him. “I do not want the calls sent to my office! Have I made myself clear?”
“Understood, Ma’am. I made a mistake and I do apologize. It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Miller’s foul mood disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The respite was short-lived. The attitude returned when she focused her attention on Rick, standing patiently behind her. He had his arms crossed in the traditional stance of someone who’d shut down—he knew it and he knew she knew it.
“I don’t appreciate having my time wasted, as you can see, Mr. Rasner,” Miller growled.
“I understand,” Rick answered, ignoring the irony of her statement after standing around in the office for an hour and forty five minutes.
“I’ve been informed Doctor Harold Obenchain will be visiting the facility tomorrow. I understand you are one of his mental patients.”
Mental patients? The choice of words along with the condescending tone was not lost on Rick. “I used to work with Dr. Obenchain, yes. The relationship has changed since…”
“The question is, are you aware of why, all of a sudden, and after several years, Doctor Obenchain has decided to tour my facility?”
“Why would you expect me to know anything about it?” Rick realized his voice trembled. His trepidation rendered him unable to return her angry glare. The mere thought of displaying a loss of temper caused a stinging feeling across his forehead. “Really, I have no idea.”
“I would certainly hope not! I would be quite peeved if we were being presented to a member of the board in a way that would put us in a negative light, Mr. Rasner. I certainly would not tolerate it coming from one of my subordinates.”
“Not at all, Ma’am.” Rick shuffled his feet, preparing to be dismissed.
“Good.” Miller’s lips tightened. Instead of storming into her office, she remained there, eyeing him as though she had something else to say, or accuse him of.
“A moment ago, I received a call from Mr. Royal. He says Clara Blue is refusing to complete her class assignment. She’s insisting she is being transferred from his class. This came about after she returned from session with you.”
Miller’s eyes narrowed with the accusation. Rick wanted to respond, but she didn’t give him the chance. “Phone calls from teachers on such issues are also a waste of my time! Now, where would Clara Blue have gotten such a ridiculous idea, Mr. Rasner?”
“It was an idea we were discussing in her last session. She seemed motivated by the opportunity. We thought…”
“So now it’s our patients who decide which classes they are placed in? Very irregular, don’t you think, Mr. Rasner? That a student who is not only unsuccessful, but is one of my biggest headaches in this facility, gets to change the rules as she sees fit?”
“Actually, it was my idea.” Rick’s head throbbed like a bass drum. He wished he could lie down ’til it went away.
“Well, that’s even better,” Miller snarled, “So now you are the director of this facility? You determine the rules and procedures I must follow?”
Rick wanted to shout, “It’s not about you, you stupid cow.” He even opened his mouth. That’s when the pain rocketed to the forefront. “Ow!”
His outburst brought a frown to her tight mouth.
“I’m not trying to come off like that at all.” The thrumming increased in volume. All other sounds ceased to exist. He pressed a pair of fingers to his scar. The touch did nothing to ease the hammering. Rick was sweating now. It dribbled from his armpits and down his ribcage. The waistband of his pants were probably soaked. Obenchain’s words became interlaced with the throb of the pain. I’m concerned…boom…that the pressures…boom…of the facility…boom…are affecting your own…boom…healing process.
“What did you say?” Miller’s voice exploded over the doctor’s words in his brain.
“Excuse me?” Rick said.
“Please speak clearly and legibly.”
“I, uh…I just feel that considering how long Clara has been working with Mr. Royal…and since things aren’t working out, that perhaps a change could lead to positive results. At least she’d be with other children her own age so she’d feel less awkward in her class…”
“My rules are stern, but fair. Success in class leads to promotion to the next grade. I will not
reward unsuccessful results, particularly those caused by negative behavior.”
“I don’t see it as rewarding her, Miss Miller, I see it as…”
“It does not matter how you see it. I am the director of this facility and I run it as I see fit!”
Although Rick wholeheartedly disagreed, and he had many points to present, he realized this was not a discussion he could rationally have, let alone win. He stood in silence, one hand still tight to his head.
Miller wouldn’t let up. “I set the tone here, not anyone else. Am I understood?”
“Yes. Understood.”
She was enjoying this. He wondered if she took courses in browbeating people when she’d been at college. Intimidation 101. Maybe he should look up a class in dealing with it.
“Good!” Miller said. “And in the future, I would appreciate you not planting ludicrous ideas in my patients’ heads. It distracts them from their intended treatments. It also makes my teachers’ jobs all the more difficult.”
A black band wrapped itself around his line of vision. What he could see in the center blurred. Woozy, he reached out, finding the wall for support.
“Mister Rasner.”
Rick realized his eyes were closed. He forced them open, against the intense explosion of pain caused by the light in the room.
“Return to work,” Miller snapped, at some point she’d transformed from an irate boss to a parent scolding a disobedient child.
“Yes Ma’am, I…”
“Just go!” Miller screamed.
She whirled past his shoulder, bumping it and nearly toppling him over. She disappeared into her office. The slamming door did bring him down. His knees folded and he crumpled into a heap.
A hand touched his shoulder and a soft voice spoke in his ear, “Are you all right? Should I call an ambulance?”
Rick shook off the dizzy feeling. Several blinks of his eyes returned some of his sight.
“Mr. Rasner?” Miller’s secretary bent close to him. Her hand moved from his shoulder to his right forearm. She repeated his name.
“I’m all right.” He moved into a sitting position.
The Rasner Effect Page 12