The Institution

by Kristen Rose

A plane touches down effortlessly on a thin stretch of tarmac; frost glitters either side of the runway. O’Connell stares out of the small man hole next to his narrow seat watching the cloudy breaths of air traffic controllers as they yell directions to one another. Thick fluorescent coats bulk up their frames, arms pushing against the fabric as they direct the plane towards the gate. Once the plane is docked, the doors open and the seat belt sign is turned off. O’Connell un-wraps his crossed arms and stretches his lengthy legs with a groan. He waits patiently as the man next to him battles with the other passengers for a space in the aisle. When the inside of the plane is still and quiet, O’Connell straightens his legs. Crouching he scurries towards the now spacious aisle to collect his small sports bag from the overhead.

  He steps out of the thin plane; face contorting. He shudders, rubbing his spacious palms against the sleeves of his grey jacket. He makes his way quickly into the depths of the airport where the temperature is mildly elevated and heads to the nearest car rental desk. The line stretches past the designated ropes, patrons pushing against the hard black coils. O’Connell scopes his eyes across the line from start to finish as he adds himself to the end of the long queue. He drops his small bag to the ground and unzips it noisily, pulling out a thick rust coloured coat. He slips into it with difficulty, the fabric stretching against his arms, forcing out the air residing between his flesh and the other two jackets he is already wearing. After taking a baby step, closing the gap slightly between him and the front of the line, the pocket of his khaki pants begins to vibrate. He forces his arm to bend long enough to retrieve his phone.

  ‘Hello,’ he breathes, lifting it quickly to his ear.

  ‘O’Connell, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh, Rogers ... Hi.’ Guilt floods O’Connell’s voice.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, I know it’s your week off and you’re probably at home relaxing.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay.’ He looks around. ‘I was only watching a bit of TV.’ O’Connell lies, quickly placing his hand over the mouth piece of the phone as an announcement is made for a customer to retrieve forgotten baggage.

  ‘Really?’ Rogers’ sounds surprised.

  ‘Yes.’ O’Connell says slowly.

  ‘How loud do you have the volume on your TV?’

  ‘Err ... what?’

  ‘It’s just that, I’m knocking on your front door at the moment and you don’t seem to be answering it.’ Rogers’ is smug.

  O’Connell’s stomach squirms. ‘Oh, well ... that’s because I’m not watching TV at my flat.’

  ‘O’Connell, where are you?’ Rogers’ exasperates, fed up with the charade.

  ‘Okay fine. I’m at the airport.’ He takes another step forward.

  ‘The airport? You never said you were going anywhere. You going back home to see the family? Good on you.’

  ‘Err ... not exactly. You know I can’t afford a plane ticket to Scotland.’

  ‘You could if you didn’t waste your money on jugs of Guinness every night. Where are you?’ He pries.

  ‘Ugh ... Fine. I’ll tell you but don’t say anything to Holmes!’ O’Connell threatens

  ‘O’Connell, you better not be where I think you are!’

  ‘I have to see her. I know she’s not sick.’ He shifts his phone to the other ear and takes another step forward.

  ‘You know? How could you possibly know?’ He patronises.

  ‘Instinct. Plus, I remembered something she said to me the last time I saw her and now everything makes sense.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rogers’ says, confused.

  ‘I think she planned this.’

  ‘Planned what?’

  ‘Planned to leave her life behind, planned to be admitted into a mental institution.’ He whispers.

  ‘Holmes was right, you don’t need a week off you need a year off – preferably at a good health resort.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t believe me either?’ He spits.

  ‘O’Connell ... Look, you have a personal attachment to this woman, and it’s really obvious. Holmes felt that the only reason you were still working on the case was because of her. He had every right to take us off it. I mean, Verdad technically hasn’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘Verdad is a murderer and you know it!’ He whispers into the phone.

  ‘Yes, but there’s no proof and until something comes up there’s no point pursuing the case. He’s not going to do anything if he knows we’re watching him.

  ‘Look, why don’t you just come back home? Hang out at my place for the week.’ He suggests weakly.

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure your wife would love that! I don’t need to be baby sat. I know what I’m doing and it’s not a mistake!’ O’Connell shuffles along the line, he is almost at the front.

  ‘Okay, tell me, what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to get proof that she is not insane and I’m going to find out what she knows.’

  ‘What if she doesn’t know anything?’

  ‘Trust me, she does.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right. Not for the sake of this case but for the sake of your own sanity. I don’t think us boys at the station could cope with another bout of your depression.’

  ‘Shut up!’ O’Connell puts his free palm to his forehead.

  ‘Sorry ... that was out of line. Just, don’t get your hopes up, okay?’

  ‘Yes, okay, fine. Look I have to go.’ O’Connell is next in line. ‘Promise me you won’t say anything to Holmes.’

  ‘I promise. Take care.’

  ‘You too. Goodbye.’ O’Connell slaps the phone shut and pushes it back into his pocket just as the woman behind one of the counters calls him over. He dumps his bag at his feet upon arrival and smiles at the young woman with tiger striped hair sitting opposite him.

  ‘I’d like to hire a car for the day.’

  ‘Just today?’ She asks, bored.

  ‘Yes, I’m flying back out tonight.’

  ‘Okay. Just a minute.’ She turns her attention to her computer and drums rapidly across the keyboard. ‘May I see your driver’s licence?’

  O’Connell pulls out his tattered wallet and hands her the necessary document. She collects it monotonously and resumes tapping her keyboard.

  ‘Do you want insurance?’

  ‘No, that’s okay.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ She raises her styled eyebrows.

  ‘Yes, I only need the car for one day. I think I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Okay, but just so you know if anything does happen to the car you will have to pay for the full extent of the damages, unless you get insurance.’

  ‘I’m more than aware of that, thank you.’

  ‘Is a standard four door sedan alright?’

  ‘Does it have GPS?’

  ‘All of our cars have been fitted with GSP.’ She says plainly.

  ‘Well, in that case a four door sedan would be perfect.’ He smiles. She punches the necessary details into the computer.

  ‘That’ll be seventy-five fifty please.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘One day-ers are more expensive.’

  O’Connell scrunches his face up, reluctantly pulling out his scratched MasterCard. She takes it from his grasp and swipes it into the computer quickly, placing it on the counter signature side up along with a black ball point pen. The printer sitting next to the computer comes to life, spitting out a short invoice. O’Connell signs it unwillingly.

  ‘Here you go.’ She hands him his copy in replace for the signed one. ‘Just follow the dotted line around to the back and exit through the glass door. Someone will be along with your car shortly.’

  ‘Thanks.’ O’Connell retrieves his receipt and credit card slipping both inside his wallet. He collects his bag and nods goodbye to the woman, following the huge yellow dots on the ground around a corner towards the right. He slips through the glass door at the end of the trail into a stretched parking bay. Roaring engines break through the calm, strong odours of petrol and
grease fill the air. He stands along the side of the parking bay and waits impatiently shivering amongst an already cluttered mass of people. After the passing of twenty minutes his name is finally called. He is handed the key to a shiny navy sedan. He hops inside quickly, inhaling the leather interior and pulls out the overly creased piece of paper that Ian Barns had given him detailing the address of Grove Hospital. He programs it into the GPS and takes off just as a large grey four wheel drive begins honking behind him.

  He remains silent for the two hour journey, deep in thought.

  SEVEN AND A HALF YEARS AGO

  It was late afternoon. Thunderous storms had been plaguing the city all week and in a moment of weakness had subsided long enough to drag Jennifer outdoors.

  She was sitting on the steps leading into her apartment complex, a bottle of water loosely held in her left hand, a cigarette in the other. She was dressed in sweats; a grey jacket hung lazily off her shoulders. Her hair was down, unwashed and messy.

  The stairs she sat on were dull, wooden and chipped and they led to a door that was half open.

  Jennifer was lost in thought, her face empty and hollow. She looked up towards the noise of a spluttering car engine making its way to the side of the road outside the complex, coming to a stop. Recognition flooded her eyes when she took in the white third hand Barina. O’Connell exited, a look of concern on his young face. He was dressed casually in jeans and wore a slightly aged cream cabled jumper. He spotted Jennifer sitting on the stairs and ran up to her, positioning himself on a stair a couple lower than hers. He looked directly at her face.

  ‘Jen, I’ve been calling you for the last three days, why haven’t you been answering your phone?’ He said hurriedly. ‘Has something happened?’ He demanded. She shook her head stiffly. ‘Come on. I’ve never seen you like this, what’s wrong?’ He reached out, rubbing her arm.

  She took a drag from her cigarette. ‘Why don’t you talk to Marc anymore?’ She looked over at him.

  He frowned at her odd question. ‘What do you mean, I talk to him.’ He said bitterly, turning away from her and coughing into his hand. ‘Do you think you could put that out for me?’ He gestured towards her cigarette. ‘Asthma.’

  ‘Sorry.’ She took one more drag then stubbed the cigarette on the steps, blowing smoke out of her mouth simultaneously.

  ‘Since when do you smoke?’

  ‘Since Friday.’ She paused. ‘You talk to Marc, but not like you used to. You used to enjoy talking to him, now you talk for the sake of it, like you have to, because I’m there. Why?’ She insisted.

  ‘Well ... I guess you could say we had a disagreement.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ He looks away.

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  O’Connell ignored her question. ‘What’s wrong? Is this to do with Verdad?’ He asked, eyeing her oily, limp hair.

  ‘You never really approved of me seeing him, why?’ She looked directly into his blue eyes.

  ‘I don’t know … male instinct I suppose. He’s much better looking than me, and rich, better not forget that.’ He grunted. ‘A man like that is pretty intimidating.’ He paused. ‘Why? Did you two have a fight or something?’ His eyes widened, elated with the thought.

  ‘Not yet.’ She looked down into her lap.

  ‘What does that mean?’ He scrunched is face up.

  There was silence. Jennifer’s mouth remained locked. Her eyes staring into the distance. O’Connell brought his hands towards her face and tilted her chin up so that he was staring directly into her murky eyes. ‘Jenny, Verdad is not a nice man. I know you don’t like hearing me say this, but he’s not. Look, if you need help just ask. I can make it so he’ll never find you.’ Jennifer sat still, acknowledging nothing. ‘What did he do? Did he hurt you?’ O’Connell asked desperately.

  Silence.

  ‘Jenny?’

  ‘No ... at least ... no.’ She said emotionless.

  ‘Did you see something?’ He probed, taking hold of her shoulders. Jennifer didn’t answer. ‘You did, didn’t you? You can tell me you know, I’m your friend, I always will be.’ He held her tightly.

  ‘I know.’ She assured him.

  ‘Look, come with me to the police station, we’ll sort something out.’ He took hold of her hand and tried to coax her down the stairs. She resisted.

  ‘No, if I go to the police, I’m dead.’ She pushed his hand away, fearful.

  ‘No, trust me, nothing bad will happen.’ He promised.

  ‘Yes it will! Look, don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing. If things get too bad, I have a plan.’ Her voice is shaky. O’Connell snorted disbelievingly.

  ‘You have a plan? Well that makes me feel a whole lot better now doesn’t it.’

  ‘Don’t be an arse.’

  ‘Well excuse me for caring about you.’ Tears formed in the corners of his eyes. He sat still for a moment. ‘What’s your plan, run off to another country under an alias? Do you know how many people have done that and get found within days, weeks?’

  ‘Yes I do know, don’t worry, I’m not going to do that.’ She said sternly.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, I can’t tell anybody, it wouldn’t work if I did.’

  O’Connell’s forehead creased with frustration. ‘Well good luck, I hope it works out for you.’ He said angrily. They sat together in silence for a minute, using the time to calm down. It was Jennifer who spoke first.

  ‘Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be insane Pete?’ Her tone was no longer angry, if anything, it was contemplative.

  ‘What?’ He looked up at her confused.

  ‘Insane, I bet those people don’t have a care in the world. All they know is the crazy existence that goes on inside their head.’

  His brow furrowed with trepidation. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Nothing, just a silly thought I have from time to time ... I wonder how you know if someone is insane, like, really insane.’

  ‘Do you think Verdad is insane?’ He sits up.

  She shrugged. ‘Maybe we’re all insane. I’m insane for talking this way, you’re insane for wearing that jumper in the middle of summer.’ She snickered.

  ‘Hey, it’s cloudy, and there’s a slight cool breeze you know.’

  ‘I also know you’re not wearing a T-shirt underneath your jumper.’

  ‘Okay you got me. I hung all of my shirts out on the line last night and they all got drenched by the downpour. This was the only dry thing I had.

  ‘Come on, come with me. I can help you get away from him safely.’ He pleaded disregarding her change of subject.

  ‘No. I don’t need you.’ The words burned into him. His mouth opened disbelievingly.

  ‘Fine! In that case, I guess this is goodbye.’ He stood up in one quick movement. ‘I’ve tried to help you Jenny, more than once. If you don’t want my help then that’s your decision but I can’t sit here and watch you let him destroy your life.’ Anger burned through his cheeks.

  ‘Pete, don’t be stupid.’ She motioned him to sit back down.

  O’Connell stared at her for a second before firmly shaking his head. He turned angrily and stomped down the stairs.

  ‘Pete!’ Jennifer called weakly. He ignored her.

  When he arrived at his car he turned and faced her once more. She was standing, leaning on the railing staring down at him, her eyes pleading for him to come back. He stared straight into them, malice carved into his cheeks. He yanked the car door open and thundered into the seat. The car flew off, tyres screeching.

  *

  The feminine voice of the GPS tells O’Connell to take a left. He drives two hundred metres before the voice reveals he has arrived at his destination. He stares into the elegant black and gold gates of Grove Hospital, smiling.

  #17 Another Visitor