by Anna Quon
Mr. Song stroked his chin as he always did when he was nervous or sad, as if the goatee he’d worn when he was younger still sprouted there. Adriana could hear him thinking, this is my family, this is all that is left of my family—one sobbing girl and the other mentally ill. He shook his head again then stood up. “I… I’ll be back soon,” he said.
Adriana, at a loss for what to do, began patting Beth on the back, like she was burping a baby. Beth eventually stopped crying and lay in the chair, legs stretched out, snot running from her nose. Adriana got the sense that she didn’t care, that she’d given up, exhausted. “I hate it here,” Beth said, in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice. Adriana didn’t know if she meant she hated the hospital, the town of Dartmouth or life on earth.
Adriana handed her sister a Kleenex. Beth sat up in the chair and wiped her nose. She had cried as much as she could, Adriana thought, and now she was sick of crying. Adriana was sick too, sick of being sick. She sat back down on the bed, exhausted.
Beth was staring at her. Adriana smiled, weak and apologetic. “I know, I look like Aunt Penny, don’t I?” she offered. Beth nodded. “And you look like my—like our mother.” Beth looked up at her, wide-eyed. Adriana could hear the abacus in Beth’s brain, ticking over.
There was a soft knock on the door. Mr. Song entered, holding a tray of Styrofoam cups and cookies in individual paper bags. He sat down on the edge of Adriana’s bed, handing her a coffee and a hot chocolate to Beth. They ate and drank, quietly, thinking their own thoughts. Mr. Song smiled, sad but satisfied that he had provided them with a meal that was more than tears.
After Beth and Mr. Song had gone home, Adriana sat back in bed, unfolding the note from Jazz. She was unsure of what to expect, so she prepared for the worst. If Jazz knew she’d attempted suicide, Adriana was pretty sure she’d be angry and upset. But it might be that Jazz only knew that she’s ended up in the mental hospital because she was depressed.
The note was written on onion skin paper, as though it were an airmail letter. Adriana held it up to the window, and it glowed in the sunlight.Hi Adriana, it began, I miss you, but I don’t want to come to the hospital. You know I hate hospitals worse than fleas, dog dirt, and Oil of Olay mixed together. Please don’t hold it against me. Adriana couldn’t blame Jazz. It wasn’t exactly a laugh and a half in there, and Jazz wouldn’t set foot in any hospital, anyway. Even when Jazz’s grandfather was dying of cancer, she’d refused to go to his bedside; it was easier for her to go to the funeral, to view his corpse
I hope you feel better soon. I haven’t been able to call. I’ve been busy is all.
Adriana knew Jazz would have called if she felt she had something to say—and she didn’t blame her friend for not knowing what to say to her. Adriana wasn’t sure she’d know what to say to Jazz either. She’d avoided calling her because she didn’t know how to tell Jazz she’d tried to die by taking an overdose. The fact which loomed large between them, blocking the sunlight. Adriana was sure Jazz would be angry enough to kill her, if she knew.
She could picture Jazz, sitting at the kitchen table, gripping the phone in one hand and rubbing her brow with the other, as though she had a headache. Adriana felt her own forehead tense with the thought of having that conversation . Still, Adriana could have used the company, even just over the phone. She realized she felt like she was in a foreign country, one where she had no friends.
Adriana felt guilty about that thought. The other patients were as friendly as they could be given their situation. She let a curtain of hair fall over her face and her hands go limp.
The door to her bedroom opened a bit. Adriana looked up. It was Jeff, his eyes seriously dark. He slipped into her room and closed the door, putting a finger to his lips. Adriana felt a smattering of panic. What was he going to do to her?
Jeff whispered. “We’re safe here. There’s a layer of lead under the ceiling and walls which keep out the x-rays,” he said. Noticing Adriana looked unconvinced, he scratched the wall paint slightly. “Look,” he said. Sure enough the scratch revealed a dark grey colour, but Adriana didn’t think it was lead. “This is the room where President Clinton stayed when the G8 summit happened in Halifax,” Jeff continued. I doubt that, Adriana thought to herself, trying to keep her panic at bay. “He had women come to stay with him. It was like one big brothel,” Jeff said, and his voice took on a hard edge. Adriana looked at him carefully.
“He was a fucking joke,” Jeff said. “But he was safe here.” Jeff sat down on the chair near the door. He looked exhausted. Adriana felt herself trembling. There was no way she could get out of the room without him stopping her.
Jeff’s skin looked grey and his eyes glittered. In this moment he looked like an old man, but Adriana estimated he was about her age.
“Wanna play cards?” he asked, taking a packet from his jean pocket. Adriana wasn’t sure what to answer, so she shrugged. “I know an Italian game,” he said, coming to sit on the edge of her bed.
He began dealing out cards and creating piles, all the while explaining the rules. Adriana couldn’t follow them and her hands shook. Then there was a knock on the door and Fiona’s head appeared in the doorway. Jeff jumped up scattering cards everywhere and put his hands on his head as if to shield it from something—radiation? Adriana wondered.
Fiona smiled, her eyes glancing from Adriana to Jeff. “You guys are playing cards?” Jeff nodded, but Adriana discretely shook her head no.
Fiona got the message. “Jeff I think Adriana is pretty tired. Maybe you could play cards tomorrow?”
Jeff said nothing but scrambled to gather all the cards and put them in their plastic bag. Fiona stood in the doorway until Jeff left, then sat down in the chair near the door. “Jeff likes his card games,” Fiona said, winking at Adriana. “He’ll play anybody, whether they’re sick or asleep.” Adriana smiled weakly. “You’ve got some new meds tonight,” Fiona told her. “Are you nervous?”
Adriana wasn’t sure what to say. She was more anxious about the thought of the medication that someone was putting in her food than the official stuff. Fiona squinted at her. “What’s wrong, hon?” She asked. Adriana put her face in her hands. Fiona, looking worried, came to sit at the foot of the bed.
“It’s alright, you can tell me sweetie.”
Adriana thought of mentioning to Fiona about the drugs in her food, but instead she said, “Jeff is afraid of the weather. He was watching the Weather Network, and he’s frightened.” Fiona squinted at her. “Don’t worry about Jeff, darling. We’re looking after him Are you sure there isn’t anything else bothering you?”
Adriana wanted to shout and cry and throw things, but that was not the way she’d been brought up. In her family, it was her mother who was the angry and impassioned one and Adriana was the dutiful daughter. She shook her head at Fiona and rolled over, her face to the wall. Fiona got the message. “Alright, hon, I’ll leave you be. But if you ever want to talk you know where to find me.” Fiona closed the door behind her.
Adriana felt lonely, as soon as she was gone. Her room seemed small and cramped and claustrophobic, its dull colours filling her with dread and loathing. She wished there was something beyond the four walls of this room to look forward to but, out there on the unit, it was just one sick person after another, one screwed up human being after another.
Adriana closed her eyes and slept. In her dreams, she got out of bed and somehow all her molecules dispersed and she filtered through the window like sunlight. Outside, she floated into the lone tree that stood on the north end of the hospital grounds, near the swing set. She hid in that tree, branches sticking through her, as though she were a cloud. Adriana felt safe in there, where she could spy on any humans that made their way across the back lawn, but she also felt terribly lonely.
Chapter 18
Adriana woke up after dark, groggy from too much sleep, her hair stringy and damp with sweat. She heard the nurse
yell, “Medications”, so she knew she’d better get in line behind the others. There was Redgie, looking morose, and Marlene, dressed as usual in her red parka, though underneath she was wearing pyjamas and a pair of hospital slippers. Melvin was silent, glowering under his sunglasses. Jeff hung out at the back of the line, wearing an old tweed cap. He still had that haunted look, which made Adriana afraid for him.
Jeff turned to Adriana when she joined the back of the line. He tried to smile. “You must be someone special to get the room with the lead lining,” he said quietly so the nurse wouldn’t hear him. “If you’re a spy for them, believe me, I will find out.” Adriana stared at him. She wanted to scream that he was crazy, that everyone was crazy here, that she couldn’t wait to get out. The line shuffled forward and Adriana said nothing to Jeff, merely turned away when he stared at her.
When he reached the counter in the half door that led to the medication room, Jeff held out his hand for the tiny plastic cup of pills and the cup of juice to swallow them with. He swigged the liquid and opened his mouth to show the nurse he’d swallowed the pills. But when he turned to leave, he stuck out his tongue at Adriana. She thought it was an obscene gesture at first but then she saw the meds, stuck to the bottom of his tongue and realized it was actually a gesture of defiance.
Jeff would go to the bathroom and spit them out, Adriana thought. But instead he walked past the washroom door to his own room, which he didn’t leave for the rest of the evening.
The nurse had handed Adriana a tiny cup with two white pills. “These are the antidepressant and the sleeping pill that Dr. Chen ordered. Would you like water or juice with those?”
Adriana held the cup of pills for a minute. “Why do I need the sleeping pill?” Adriana asked. Dr. Chen had said she slept too much.
“It’s to help you sleep better at night, so maybe you won’t need as much sleep in the daytime,” the nurse explained.
Dr. Chen hadn’t mentioned the sleeping pill to her. She panicked a little, wondering whether this was a ploy to get her to take poison. She stood with the tiny cup of pills in hand, as the nurse waited for her to swallow them. “Is there something wrong?” the nurse asked her. Adriana felt the nurse was looking at her strangely.
She turned and walked away without swallowing the pills. “Adriana,” the nurse called. “You can’t take those pills away. Swallow them here where I can see you.”
Adriana turned around. She threw the cup of pills at the nurse. “I won’t take your poison!” she yelled. People stood aside to let her pass, and someone clapped. The nurse had a stunned look.
Adriana went back to her room. Shakily, she sat on the bed and looked down at her slippers. No doubt someone would come by to talk to her soon. She took the slippers off and got under the covers. Eventually someone opened her door a crack and saw her lying there asleep, and closed the door.
The next day Adriana woke up groggy. She walked out to the washroom with her toothbrush and saw that Fiona’s name wasn’t on the board, meaning she wasn’t on shift. Adriana felt disappointment and relief. She was pretty sure Fiona would have something to say to her about last night. It would no doubt be on her chart that she threw her pills at the nurse doling out meds. Adriana felt something akin to smugness, but she was also terrified. What if Fiona was in on the poisoning attempts? Somehow Adriana didn’t think so, but it was impossible to tell.
Adriana knew the staff would be busy till about 9 a.m. while the doctors did their rounds, and she expected a knock on her door shortly. She tidied the newspapers and pens, put some clothes in her locker, but didn’t get dressed. She figured they’d put her in TQ. Such a terrible thought.
There was a knock on her door and it opened a crack. The young student doctor, dressed in blue, nodded to her somewhat awkwardly and smiled. “Dr. Chen wanted me to introduce myself,” he said brightly. “I’m Colin.” Adriana looked at his shoes. They were slightly too long for him and turned up at the toes. “Can we have a chat?” he asked.
Adriana nodded once. Was he in on the poisoning too? She sat cross-legged on the bed, shoulders hunched and peered at him through narrowed eyes, as though challenging him to come closer. But he stood in the doorway and made no move to enter. Adriana motioned to the chair, and he finally sat down, leaving her door wide open.
“You like flowers?” he said, engagingly, leaning forward on his knees and nodding at the bouquet her father had brought her. The tiger lilies had drooped and shed pollen all over the window sill. Adriana shrugged. Didn’t everyone like flowers? “I’m Colin,” he said, straightening up, and arching his back slightly, as though it ached. “I’m a medical student, just doing a rotation here at the NS for a few weeks.”
Adriana nodded. She wasn’t going to give him any ground. He half-smiled. “You’re Adriana.” She looked at him, and waited.
Colin cleared his throat. “Um, last night,” he said, “You were pretty upset.” Adriana waited. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head. “Because it might help us help you, if we knew what you were upset about.”
Adriana crossed her arms and pouted. She felt slightly childish but also very afraid, almost wildly so. Her heart beat loudly, and she put her hands over her ears, so he wouldn’t hear the blood pulsing through her. He looked concerned. “Do you hear something?” he asked. She shook her head.
His eyes were very blue, or maybe it was simply a reflection of his shirt. “Look, Adriana,” he said, earnest and confiding, like a cop trying to get a suspect to talk, Adriana thought. “You’re here in this place to get help, aren’t you?” Adriana refused to look at him. “We can help,” he said with confidence, “but you have to let us.”
There was a commotion in the hall. A nurse ran by Adriana’s door, shouting for help. Colin jumped to his feet. Then it seemed like a whole stream of people ran by in a stampede. Colin excused himself and stepped into the hall, closing her door behind him. Adriana made out from the shouts and stray exclamations that someone had taken an overdose. Soon paramedics were on the scene and someone was being taken away on a stretcher.
Adriana opened her door a crack, but a nurse in the hallway had motioned for her to stay back. She felt both trapped and exposed. What if someone came into her room and killed her while everyone was concentrating on helping the person who’d overdosed? Her mind felt hot and roiled as though it were boiling.
Adriana heard Redgie and Marlene walk by her door. “Such a damn shame,” said Redgie. Adriana imagined him shaking his head. “Just a young man, in the prime of his life. Why’d he want to end it?” Adriana thought Marlene nodded, and spoke in a hoarse and quavery voice. Then she stopped not far from Adriana’s door. Adriana pictured her patting Melvin, disconsolate and lonely, on the shoulder. “He’ll be back, don’t you worry. I saw his face.”
Adriana pictured Jeff, pale and resigned, being carried away on the stretcher. Outside the rain was beginning to fall, and wind lashed the harbour-side of the hospital. He’d tried to outrun the storm but they’d pump his stomach and give him charcoal to drink, and the thing that terrified him would pass, leaving him to face the futility of delusions, and the emptiness of his life without them.
Chapter 19
Adriana sat down to breakfast. There was a oblong plastic bowl with grey porridge, a hard-boiled egg, a piece of toast, and a small plastic mug of hot water to make tea. Any of it could have been tampered with, except perhaps the egg, which was still intact. Adriana cracked the egg against the table top and peeled the shell. She carefully bit the top off the egg and tore open the little packages of salt and pepper to sprinkle on the remaining egg.
A male nurse was leaning against the kitchen countertop watching her. Adriana felt terribly self-conscious, and panicky. What if the nurse was in cahoots with the people who were poisoning her food? Adriana made a point of covering her toast and porridge with a paper napkin.
The nurse, a muscle-bound, dark haired man wh
ose name tag said “Tony”, took her tray. “You didn’t eat much,” he noted. Adriana felt a surge of anger but said nothing. If he wanted to make a note of the fact that she left her breakfast, let him, she thought. He couldn’t force her to eat.
Melvin, wearing his sunglasses as usual, was looking down at her tray, as though mesmerized. “Are you hungry” she asked, in a hoarse whisper. Melvin nodded. Before she could say a word, he took the toast and porridge from her tray onto his. Adriana was terrified. “Don’t,”she said loudly, gripping his wrist. He looked at her mildly, and the male nurse watched, from behind the counter, with eyes narrowed with concern.
Adriana bent her head toward Melvin. “They’re poisoned”, she said, feeling the words escape her lips like a snake. He looked at her for a moment, considering, then smiled. “I’ll be okay,” he said. That was the only thing she’d heard him say since she had been admitted, and the high, bell-like clarity of his voice surprised her. He made the sign of the cross and waved his hands over the food, laughing soundlessly. He began to eat and Adriana she felt half dread, half humiliation.
She went back to her bedroom to lie down. Something didn’t feel right in her brain. She pictured her hippocampus, tethered but drifting. Her mind wandered over Jeff’s delusion about the lead ceiling in her room—the idea of a man who had lost his bearings. Or was it?
Adriana thought she saw a glimmer above her in one of the small holes in the ceiling tile. Could it be a hidden camera? Or had she, like Jeff, slipped somewhere between the lining and the outer garment of reality? She felt hemmed in, narrow, constricted—it was impossible for her to get off the track her mind had taken, like a street car on its rails.
Even in turmoil, there was something sluggish, viscous, about her thoughts. What was wrong with her? Had the hippocampus, she panicked, shifted position? She could almost feel it, floating free in the porridge of her brain. There was an illness she’d heard of, something one contracted from a mosquito bite, that turned one’s organs into mush, but Adriana thought it was a tropical disease. Anxiety clawed at the back of her throat.