Thirteen West

by Jane Toombs

  "Need some help?" he asked.

  She did, there was no use not to admit it. Dressing or undressing catatonic patients was not the easiest task in the world. She'd have preferred to have a woman helping her with Sally but she'd have to take the luck of the draw.

  "I'd appreciate it, Lew," she said.

  Once they had the pajamas pants in place, Lew said, "Want to put the top on too?"

  That meant taking off Laura Jean's T-shirt and exposing her breasts. Sally hesitated, then chastised herself for being silly. Lew was a psych tech. He was used to working with women as well as men. Besides, he'd already seen the other half of the girl while they were struggling with the pajamas bottoms.

  "Good idea," she told Lew.

  "Peculiar as hell, what happened to Laura Jean on nights," he said. "The lights being out like they were and all. As zonked on Thorazine as he was, the Preacher would've fallen on his butt if he'd tried to climb that step stool. But somebody did. You'll never make me believe the Preacher laid a finger on her, either."

  "I agree. But Laura Jean could have heard somebody in the dark and slid off the bed onto the floor, trying to hide. Her nightmares—"

  "You don't still believe that crap about nightmares." When Sally didn't answer, he added, "The whole damn thing stinks—lights out, a stool we keep locked up in the mop closet in here, and her on the floor half-naked. That's no dream."

  "Ms Young thinks Laura Jean was trying to commit suicide," Sally said. "You know—put her fingers in the light socket."

  "I can't see that, even if it's true you never do know what a schiz will do."

  They had the shirt off and the difficulty of working the girl's arms into the sleeves of the pajama top was making Sally wish they hadn't bothered. She sought a way to divert Lew's attention from the way Laura Jean's bare breasts were brushing against him as he helped.

  "I asked Dr. Jacobs for a simple definition of schizophrenia," she said finally. "He told me I should imagine a way of living where I was estranged from myself as well as everyone else."

  "Can't say I'd care to try it. Hate to see it happen to young chicks like Laura Jean. What kind of life is this?"

  When the pajama top was finally in place, Sally breathed a sigh of relief and pulled the covers up over the girl. "Dr. Jacobs said the ECT would bring Laura Jean out of the catatonia," she said, "and then he wants to try group therapy. So she won't always be like she is now."

  "Yeah, maybe. But I worked on the teenage ward and the ones as bad as her don't get all the way better, ECT or not. A lot of tranq zombies over there." He stared down at Laura Jean so long that it made Sally nervous.

  "What's the matter?" she asked.

  "If she wasn't having nightmares," he said slowly, "then someone screwed her into catatonia. Ever think of that? I got my own idea of who could've done it. Smartass bastard, the kind my wife—" He broke off abruptly, turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Sally wondering uneasily what he'd been about to reveal.

  "There you are." Janet Young came into the room. "We got along so well working together last night I thought maybe we could do it again."

  "I'm finished with Laura Jean already," Sally said, hoping to discourage her.

  "But you still have the others to do. I'll help you."

  Unable to find a good reason why not, Sally nodded. Though she didn't give credence to what the Duchess had said, she really didn't want to work with this woman. But there was no way to say so without hurting the LVN's feelings.

  "You live in the singles apartments, don't you?" Janet asked. "In 32."

  "Yes."

  "Maybe I could come by and take a look at your place."

  "Oh. Well, I don't know..."

  "You see, I'm waiting to move into one and I'd like to get some measurements."

  "You're waiting for my apartment?"

  "No, I understand 32 is kept for short term residents—like you are. I'm on the waiting list for the next vacancy in the others. Maybe I could drop by after work tonight. It would only take a few minutes. We can walk over together."

  Sally tried to come up with a reason to keep Janet away. Not that she was afraid of her but she just didn't want the woman in her apartment. She couldn't use David as an excuse because he wasn't here. Besides, she hadn't seen him since that fiasco—maybe he wouldn't want to have anything more to do with her.

  "As a matter of fact," she said, feeling like she was being driven to the wall, "tonight isn't convenient. I have a date."

  Janet's eyebrows rose. "Surely not with David Boyer. Hasn't be been—ill?"

  Why did Janet speak of him so mockingly? Did everyone know what had happened between David and her and what David had suffered as a result?

  "I've seen you two in cozy conversations," Janet went on. "So sweet."

  The tinge of mockery was still there. I really don't like her, Sally decided.

  "I'm sure your date isn't with Lew Alinosky," Janet said. "He's very much married and so jealous of his wife it keeps him too busy for fooling around. Besides, I'm sure you're not a girl who'd date married men."

  Malicious was the word for Janet. Anger rose in Sally. She was getting ready to say who she dated was no one's business but her own when Janet spoke first.

  "That leaves Dr. Jacobs who, I understand, lives with a woman friend already. And, from the way our dear charge nurse eyes him, you'd have to ace her out as well. So who's the heavy date with?"

  Struck by the similarity to how Em used to act—it was almost like Janet was Em, reincarnated—Sally fumbled with words. "I—I—"

  "I don't really think you have any right to know." Frank's voice came from behind them, making both women start and turn to where he stood in the doorway. "But I'll tell you anyway," he added. "Sally's going out with me."

  Sally stared at him, speechless. How long had he been standing there?

  "Isn't that right, Sally?" he asked.

  Feeling trapped, but not knowing what else to do, she nodded. Looking from one to the other of them, both intent on her, she fled past Frank, who made no move to stop her. Sally couldn't avoid Janet for long, since she'd agreed to work with her. Eventually she joined her in the four bed women's room.

  "I must say I'm surprised." Janet's voice was no longer mocking. "I suppose you know what you're doing but he's practically old enough to be your father."

  "Not unless he was extremely precocious," Sally retorted, determined not to allow herself to be dominated.

  "I've heard rumors—" Janet let her voice trail off.

  Recognizing the ploy, Sally didn't respond. Frank might have a blemished past—he'd more or less said so when he'd come to her apartment uninvited. Though she was curious, she had no intention of asking Janet anything about him.

  "He never takes out girls," Janet said after a long pause.

  "I'm a girl."

  "That's what's so odd." Janet smiled with cold eyes. "Perhaps you'd better reconsider. He could have—unusual tastes."

  Sally fought the urge to laugh at the lengths Janet was going to, all to prevent an imaginary date. It would be imaginary, wouldn't it? Or was it out of the frying pan into the fire? Her stomach began to churn and spasm with tension. Frank really wasn't expecting her to go anywhere with him, was he? Or to come to her apartment? Bile rose in her throat.

  "You're so pale." Janet's voice was tinged with satisfaction. "Don't you feel well?"

  Damned if she'd let Janet know how apprehensive she was about exactly what Frank intended to do. Summoning up an enigmatic smile, she murmured, "It's just the anticipation of a first date with an exciting man."

  * * *

  "Frank said to wait—he'll be back," Alma told Sally near the end of the shift. "He usually walks me to my car." She laughed. "I don't like the dark. Tonight I hear you're coming along?" She raised an eyebrow.

  "I—I guess so," Sally said.

  "Wow, such enthusiasm. Don't you know you're the first girl anyone here knows of him asking out? And the hospital grapevine is ver
y efficient."

  "I heard something of the sort from Janet," Sally admitted.

  "You act scared to death. Are you?"

  Sally's answer was a nervous smile.

  "Then why did you agree?"

  "I—it's all right," Sally insisted, reluctant to explain what led up to it.

  Alma shrugged and gathered up her notes for report. Later, as the three of them walked to the parking lot, Sally found herself in the middle.

  "You be nice to this girl, you hear me, Frank?" Alma said when they reached her car.

  "I hear you."

  Sally gripped her hands together as they watched Alma drive away.

  "My car's here," Frank said, indicating the red Corvette.

  "I—thanks, but you don't have to take me anywhere," Sally said. "I'm really tired."

  "I'll drive you over to the apartments."

  "Oh, no, you don't have to."

  "I insist." He took her arm and led her to his car.

  She didn't look at him all the way there. Neither spoke.

  Sally tried to hurry out of the car before Frank could have a chance to follow her but the seat belt fastening took time to undo and, when she did manage to release herself, he was already outside the car, opening her door.

  "Thank you for the ride. And for rescuing me from an unpleasant situation," she said.

  "I'd like to be invited in for a cup of coffee," he said. "Or tea. Or whatever. We need to discuss Janet Young."

  Resigned, Sally let him follow her up the stairs. He stood aside while she unlocked her door. "Number 32," he said. "Just my age."

  She felt a brief flash of amusement as he followed her in. A father at twelve, according to Janet.

  "Do you think I'm too old, is that it?" he asked.

  I wish he wouldn't loom, she thought.

  "Please sit down," she said primly. "I'll make some tea."

  He waved a hand, dismissing the tea, and once again sat wrong side to on a straight-backed chair. "You didn't answer my question.

  "Your age doesn't make any difference to me," she said truthfully. "I'm grateful for being rescued but it doesn't change how I feel about you."

  "And how is that?"

  She perched uneasily on the edge of the lounge. "You make me nervous."

  "So you're still afraid of what I represent—that specter from your past. I won't accept that it's me. What have I ever done to—?" He broke off and smiled ruefully. "Well, I admit I might have frightened you the other night, but you were wary of me before that."

  "I wish you'd just leave me alone," she said.

  "Leave you to Janet Young?"

  She flushed.

  "What was that all about?" he asked. "Are you interested in her? You looked like a bird being terrorized by a snake."

  "You're no different than she is," Sally snapped. "Why can't both of you leave me be? Pushing your way into my life when I don't want either of you there."

  "Is that what she was doing? Why didn't you tell her to flake off? You've told me in no uncertain terms."

  "Then why don't you?" Sally folded her arms and glared at him.

  He held her gaze, making her again notice the golden wedge in the brown iris of his right eye. "Is it because I'm a man?" he asked. "If that's what it is, I can understand. I didn't realize—I mean, I know I accused you of luring poor David over here because you'd discovered he was no threat, but that was jealousy talking. I hadn't considering that you might actually prefer a woman."

  "No!" Her vehemence surprised Sally. "I mean that's not the reason," she said more calmly. "I don't know why I'm nervous around you. I've never been comfortable with big men. Like you said, you can't help being big. I can't help my feeling, either."

  "Could you try?"

  She shook her head. "Why does it have to be me?" she asked.

  "Because of the way you look—so young."

  "I'm not all that young—I'll be twenty in two weeks. Is it that you prefer younger women?"

  "Not exactly." He got to his feet. "It's too difficult to explain." He looked positively agonized as he added, "I can't talk about it."

  Sally rose, too, for the first time feeling a faint stir of pity. "I'm sorry."

  "That's all right—it has nothing to do with you. Good night."

  After he left, she stared at the closed door for a long moment before crossing to hook the safety chain. Everyone she'd met here except for Alma and Connie seemed to have a problem. Well, maybe Dr. Jacobs was okay but Frank and Janet and poor David... She shook her head.

  Laura Jean had called Grace Geibel a creep and somehow the name fit—Grace was peculiar. Lew Alinosky apparently had marital problems.

  How about me? Sally asked herself. Do I prefer women? In high school she'd liked the few boys who'd asked her out. Then she met Em. But she hadn't picked Em, she'd been chosen by her. It was easy being with Em at first, but then she changed.

  But Janet—ugh. Sally grimaced with distaste. No way. She had no intention of letting the woman into her apartment or her life.

  David? Poor David. She'd liked him kissing her. Maybe she would have liked more, if he'd been able to. Now, though, she'd never be sure she hadn't chosen him because, deep down, she'd known he was "safe," as Frank put it.

  Frank. The other night when he'd grabbed her she'd been so frightened she had actually fainted. For the first time it occurred to her that that had been a rather extreme reaction.

  * * *

  On Thirteen West, Joe Thompson didn't dare try to sleep, not after last night's incident. He'd ordered Willie and Zenda to stay awake as well. When he heard the key in the lock of the inner door to Thirteen West, he knew it had begun, just as he'd figured. He left the nursing station to take a swift look up and down the ward, hoping Willie had been listening to what he said. He was pretty sure Zenda would be okay.

  Joe turned to face the opening door, "Hello, Dr. Fredericks," he said without surprise.

  "Good evening, Mr. Thompson."

  Jesus, he's a big bastard, Joe thought, watching him advance.

  "I thought I might take a stroll about the ward," the superintendent went on. "No, don't let me keep you from your duties. I prefer to go by myself."

  Joe nodded.

  Dr. Fredericks didn't move. After a moment, he said, "I understand from Mr. Luera, the night supervisor, that you normally make rounds as soon as you come on duty, take care of any problems encountered, then ready the charts—new sheets or whatever—for the next day. Rounds are made every two to four hours, depending on what type of patients you have. Here on Thirteen West, two hour rounds are in force. Correct?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "I believe the night shift also does routine clean-up chores—wheelchairs and so on?"

  "We do, Doctor."

  "Then, at this time of night, having finished your first rounds, you would be tending to the charts?"

  "I was doing that when you arrived," Joe said.

  "Very good. Where are the other two techs?"

  "Both Mrs. Holm and Mr. Rhone are out on the ward. I'm not quite sure—"

  "Fine. I'll come across them, no doubt. Thank you, Mr. Thompson. Don't let me keep you from the charts."

  Joe watched Nellie continue on. I hope to hell they heard him come in, he thought. He pinned me here awful damn neat.

  In the day room, Sven Taterson sat glaring at Willie Rhone. "No, I won't go back in that room. I'll sleep out here if I have to."

  "You're the one asked for another roommate. So, you got one." Willie laughed. "What'd old W.W. do, make a pass at your asshole?"

  "Aw, shit," Tate said. "No use talking to you."

  "Watch it, man. Careful what you—" Willie broke off, conscious someone was coming. The door opened.

  "Uh, hello, Dr. Fredericks," Willie said.

  "Dr. Fredericks!" Tate jumped to his feet and rushed over to grasp the doctor's arm. "You got to listen to me."

  "Okay, Tate, take it easy," Willie said, putting a hand on Tate's shoulder, "Don't bother t
he doctor. Come on back to your room now."

  "No, let me talk to him," Dr. Fredericks ordered.

  "They put me over here and I don't like it," Tate said. "I used to have friends on my old ward but they put me here and first I had a crazy jump me and now they got me in with one of them homos. It's not right."

  "What's your name?" the superintendent asked.

  "Sven Taterson. I used to be on Twelve East, wasn't so bad over there, I was getting better. Here, my nerves are all shot."

  "I'll look into it, Mr. Taterson. Meanwhile I suggest you go to bed."

  "I can't. Didn't I say they put me in with a homo? I won't sleep in there."

  Dr. Fredericks looked at Willie.

  "Uh, W.W.—Mr. Weebles—won't bother him, never has bothered nobody. Tate—Mr. Taterson—just don't like the man."

  "Then I suggest we find him another room." Dr. Fredericks smiled at both men. "We want you on Thirteen West, Mr. Taterson. We know having you here is good for others of our patients and for you, too, although you may not be happy right at this moment. In group therapy perhaps you can ferret out your dislike of Mr. Weebles. For now I'll see your room is changed. Is that satisfactory?" Dr. Frederick's manner suggested it better be.

  "Yeah, well, it's something," Tate grumbled.

  Dr. Fredericks walked to the door.

  "You want me to come with you, Doctor?" Willie asked.

  "No, that won't be necessary. Go ahead and arrange the room change with Mr. Thompson. Good night, Mr. Taterson."

  Zenda was in the women's four bed room, changing Mrs. Exeter, one of the incontinent patients, when she looked up with a start to see Dr. Fredericks.

  "Isn't it customary to offer some privacy for this?" he asked.

  "Oh, my, yes, sir. That is, I used to close the door on days but there's no one around at night so..."

  "I'm around," he said.

  Zenda pulled up the side rail of the bed and walked over to close the door.

  "You've been with us a long time, Mrs. Holm," he said. "One of our most experienced and trusted employees."