by Anna Quon
Dr. Burke held the bedroom door open for Adriana and they walked a few metres down the hall to the interview room where Fiona was sitting. She was more noticeably pregnant and looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes. She smiled at Adriana and said, “Hello, my love. I’ve been called in to fill in for Elspeth. Hope you don’t mind.” Adriana smiled and shook her head. “I’m hardly fit to be seen, but I know you’ll forgive me,” Fiona said with a wink.
Dr. Burke, as usual, got right down to business. “How have you been feeling over the last 24 hours?” he asked. Adriana thought about it. It seemed she had been on edge ever since she heard about Jazz’s plans. She wasn’t sure what answer Dr. Burke wanted, so she told the truth. “I’ve been worried about my friend. She’s in the Dartmouth General because something went wrong with her abortion. And I’m worried about Jeff. And also my little sister.” Adriana put her hand to her forehead. She knew she had almost no hope of being granted a pass, after absconding to Jazz’s house the other day.
Dr. Burke nodded, pleased, she thought, with her straightforward answer. “I understand you want privileges to go visit your friend in the hospital,” he said. Adriana looked down. Why did she feel like she was asking for a big favour? Dr. Burke, bent sideways to catch her gaze. “Is that right?” Adriana nodded.
“Generally, we would be hesitant to let you go, after the events of the last few days, but these are unusual circumstances. If we let you go, will you go only to the hospital to visit your friend, and then come back here immediately afterward? I’m afraid we can’t let you go see your family yet. You’d have to walk there, because the roads aren’t clear.” Adriana gawked, surprised. She nodded vigorously.
Dr. Burke continued, “If you agree to be back here in an hour, you can go. Be careful on the streets though because a number of trees are down and there are crews trying to clean things up.” Adriana, face red with emotion, nodded. Dr. Burke was taking a chance on her. His face looked kinder than she remembered, softer around the edges.
“Let’s see how your pass to visit your friend goes. If everything’s okay we’ll talk about a weekend pass for you to see your family.” Adriana felt a rush of relief. Finally, something was changing, moving. She needed to feel the air flowing past her, so she’d know it was real.
Adriana put on her sneakers and a jacket, and made her way to the entrance. The air that greeted her was moist and fresh, and the sun was trying to materialize from behind the clouds. Adriana’s mouth hung open at the sight of branches and trash scattered over the lawns and the street, empty of cars but covered with leaves. She felt a bubbling of gratitude that the hospital hadn’t crumbled under the enormous hand of the storm. She wasn’t the only one surveying the damage—everyone looked slightly dazed, as though they had wandered out of a bomb shelter. She couldn’t tell whether they were patients or people living in the neighbourhood, since the hurricane had reduced all of them to astonishment.
The Dartmouth General was just a few minutes’ walk up the street. Adriana could see its ugly bulk on the next hill. She had one hour.
Adriana asked at the information desk for Jazz’s room. She took the elevator up to Jazz’s floor, which seemed unusually quiet. Jazz was lying in bed asleep, her mother beside her. Mrs. O’Connell nodded to Adriana with a tight-lipped smile. “She just drifted off,” Mrs. O’Connell said. “She wondered if you’d come.” Adriana looked at Jazz’s pale face. She looked about 13 years old.
Mrs. O’Connell was rubbing Jazz’s hand gently and soothingly. Adriana was seized with sadness. How hard for a mother to see her child in pain and distress. “Is she going to be okay?” Mrs. O’Connell’s gaze was soft, not judgmental. She nodded at Adriana, her smile flickering like a television screen. It was not the prim, humourless Mrs. O’Connell that Adriana was familiar with who patted the seat beside her, inviting her to sit.
Jazz had an IV in her arm and wore a blue johnny shirt, under the white blanket. Her eyelids fluttered and she turned her head, moaning softly. Mrs. O’Connell’s mouth trembled, as she put a hand to her daughter’s forehead. Jazz’s eyes opened slightly, but she didn’t seem to see Adriana, though she was looking in her direction. Mrs. O’Connell stroked her cheek, and her eyes closed again.
Adriana understood why Jazz hated the hospital. She was reduced, here, to a level of helplessness that was so out of character for her that she was barely recognizable. Adriana smiled shakily, telling Mrs. O’Connell, “I can’t stay,” without explaining the hour-long pass, and the fact that she couldn’t bear to sit with Jazz’s mother, wavering on the edge of tears. Mrs. O’Connell nodded and gazed at Jazz. “Please tell her I came by,” Adriana whispered.
On the way to the elevator, Adriana caught sight of Elspeth, sitting in a hospital room at the end of a bed. She stopped short, anxious. Was Samantha in that hospital bed? She stood and waved at Elspeth, as if to a stranger whose attention you wanted to catch. Elspeth smiled and waved back. When Adriana reached the door to the room, she saw it was Jeff, not Samantha, in the bed. Jeff was watching television, his neck covered in a clean white bandage. There was no more fear in his eyes. In fact he looked quite cheerful.
Elspeth patted the chair next to her. Adriana sat down, because she didn’t know what else to do. Jeff lifted a hand in greeting, not very high because it obviously hurt his neck.
“I’ll be coming back to the NS tomorrow,” he said, without any preamble. Adriana nodded, shakily. Elspeth looked more at ease here than Adriana could remember. Jeff pointed the remote at the TV to change the channel, and turned to Adriana, his eyes large and dark. “Did you walk here? What’s it like outside?”
Adriana trembled with relief. He didn’t blame her for the jar. “The sun’s trying to come out,” she said in a tremulous voice. “There are leaves and branches everywhere…” her voice trailed off.
Jeff nodded, satisfied. “It’s just like on TV,” he said, and turned back to watch the coverage of the hurricane. For a moment, Adriana felt confused, but then realized he was right. Itwas just like on TV.
Elspeth looked at home here. Adriana wondered what it was that made her relax, compared to at the NS. Maybe the mental hospital reminded her too much of her daughter. Elspeth had never told Adriana anything about her except for that first confidence, and she hadn’t admitted that it wasn’t a friend she was speaking about, but herself.
Adriana was almost afraid to ask Elspeth anything. But when Jeff’s attention was riveted by the TV, she turned to Elspeth, and in a low voice, ventured, “and Samantha?”
Elspeth shook her head. “I can’t tell you anything, Adriana, you know that.” But she was smiling and Adriana knew she wouldn’t be if something terrible had happened.
Adriana’s body slowly relaxed, overcome by exhaustion. She leaned back in her chair and gazed up at the ceiling, wishing she was a little child and could sit on Elspeth’s lap, nestle against her bosom and sleep. Elspeth stood at the window, surveying the hurricane damage. From the back, Elspeth looked substantial, her shoulders broad and solid—but Adriana noticed she stooped slightly and that there was more grey in her hair than she’d noticed before. Adriana felt a twinge of sadness. Elspeth was like a mountain peak, always strong and always there. It was frightening to think that Elspeth would fade into old age, like everyone else.
Adriana knew her hour was almost up and it was time to return to the mental hospital. She stood up, and Elspeth turned around, smiling regretfully. “You’re going back?” she asked. Adriana nodded. She’d escaped twice and returned once on her own. This time she would go back to keep her promise to the doctor. And Fiona.
Elspeth sat down heavily in her chair. “Mental hospitals are going the way of the dinosaur,” she said. Adriana wasn’t sure if Elspeth was speaking to her, or to herself. “There’s got to be a better way of treating people,” Elspeth continued, shaking her head. “I never want my children or their children to have to come to a place like the NS,” s
he said.
Adriana stood with her mouth open. She’d never heard Elspeth talk about the mental hospital that way before. In fact, Elspeth had once told Adriana that she’s made the right choice by admitting herself, but maybe it was because it was the only choice.
Usually Elspeth was the one who listened, her head cocked to one side. She smiled at Adriana, slightly embarrassed. “Now you’ve heard my rant,” she said. “I know you need to go back. Just don’t stay there long,” she said. “Don’t let it grow on you.”
As she walked up the street to the NS, Adriana thought about what Elspeth had said. She wondered if Elspeth was really afraid that she’d get used to the hospital and not want to leave. There were some people, she knew, who lived in the hospital for years, and others that returned as regular as clockwork, their lives so dreary or their illness so severe they couldn’t stay away from the place.
Adriana stepped over branches on the sidewalk She realized she was between worlds—ill enough to be hospitalized and healthy enough to traverse a street turned upsidedown by a hurricane, in order to comfort a friend and to keep a promise. Who was she, besides a mental patient? A daughter, a sister, a friend. She considered herself to be loyal, discreet and by nature an extrovert, though since puberty she hadn’t given any indication of that side of herself. She liked depressing music, hated crowds, and had a penchant for fading into the background. She enjoyed being alone and didn’t mind the dark, could speak English and a smattering of French, liked Chinese food and road trips. She remembered fishing with her dad at the lake at dawn, how it felt to sit beside him on the rocks at the shore and breathe in the smell of the still water, and feel her forehead relax and her whole body loosen. That was who she was, under all the layers of worry and illness.
Adriana checked her watch. She had five minutes to spare, so she sat down on a bench under a maple in front of the Purdy building. Some of the branches had been stripped of leaves, but for the most part the tree was lush and intact. Adriana looked up into the crown of the tree, which reminded her of a brain on its stem, the branches and twigs like a network of neurons. It was so mysterious, this green world, inhabited by birds and caterpillars, like a secret planet unto itself.
It was time. Adriana walked into the Purdy building, as she’d agreed. It didn’t feel so much like a prison now, but a temporary resting place, from which she would soon be released. It surprised her to feel whole and hopeful, as though she’d misplaced herself somewhere and had just now found herself again.
Chapter 29
Adriana Song signed her name in the book at the door to Mayflower. Usually she simply scribbled her signature to get it over with but today she lingered, staring at the plump cursive. That was her, Adriana Song, whom Elspeth said had a beautiful name.
The halls were quiet for once. She savoured the silence but realized it might not bode well, after all. Where was Marlene? Had Redgie come back? And what about Samantha? She felt herself begin to vibrate with anxiety, but she wanted to preserve her calm, so she took a deep breath in and out.
She sat down in the kitchen, where the stainless steel countertop and the tile floor gleamed. Adriana was glad to be alone here, even if she realized that it wouldn’t last. It occurred to her that since her mother had died she’d always been most happy when she was alone with her thoughts. Even Jazz hadn’t been able to enter the door that lead to her private mind, and that was the way Adriana wanted it to be—her memories tucked away inside the sea horse’s pouch. She had too many shameful, dark and selfish thoughts that she didn’t want to share with anyone.
Adriana proceeded to her room and saw the staff in the back office in a sombre meeting of some kind. Colin, the student doctor stood in the hallway looking shattered, his hands over his face. Marlene was rocking in a chair in the common room, as though it were serious business, as if she could rock herself to some distant location. The hurricane had gripped and shaken this place, and she had come loose from it, like a leaf from a tree. It was time for her to go.
Samantha’s bed had been made neatly. There was no sign of her belongings or her comforting messiness. Adriana stood in the door of the room without going in, until she saw the note on her bed. She picked up the onion skin paper and unfolded it. Samantha had written something in a blue fountain pen.Dear Adriana, it began.They’re moving me to Laurel unit. I hope you will visit me.
Adriana sat down on the bed. It was as if Samantha had never been there. If Adriana chose to ignore this note, she could pretend she and Samantha had never crossed paths, that Samantha didn’t even exist. When she left the hospital, she could leave it—all of it—behind. But she thought of Samantha’s sad eyes, her big helpless hands. Samantha, who had no one. She couldn’t just let go of her, even though that would be the easiest thing to do. A visit was in order.
Adriana went downstairs to the vending machines to buy ketchup chips for Samantha. On her way back up in the elevator, she found herself humming one of her mother’s Slovak songs. Because her mother only sang it when she was sad, Adriana thought of it as a sad song. But within the sadness was a seed of happiness, a persistent grain of sand in the oyster of her depression.
Laurel unit was only across the hall from Mayflower, but to Adriana it felt like she had landed on a strange planet. The rooms were laid out in a mirror image to the rooms on Mayflower, and much was the same—the blaring television set, the listless people waiting in the kitchen for the next meal, the slamming of doors, and the clipped footsteps of nurses. But there was something in the air, maybe a brute reality, which was different from Mayflower. It may simply have been because Laurel was on the north side of the building and didn’t see as much sunlight as the south side, but Adriana felt entombed as she made her way through Laurel, looking for Samantha’s room.
Adriana located her across from the laundry room, from which could hear the muffled sound of someone’s washing tumbling in the dryer. There were three other names on the door, which Adriana paid no attention to. Samantha lay stretched out on her side on her bed, her panty-hosed feet twitching. She had a melancholic look, but when she saw Adriana, she brightened. Adriana felt ashamed of herself for even considering forgetting about Samantha.
“Well, hello!” Samantha called out and struggled to sit up. Though she sounded cheerful, there was something bleak about her eyes. Adriana stood in the doorway, exposed and awkward. Samantha waved her in and reached out a hand for the ketchup chips. “My favourites!” she squealed. The bump under the bedcovers in the opposite corner of the room snored and rustled. Samantha covered her mouth with her hand and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You do know me!” Adriana resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Everyone knew Samantha liked ketchup chips.
Everything was about the same here as in Mayflower; same chair, bed covers, locker. The same smell, not antiseptic, but as if someone had cleaned half-heartedly and tried to cover up the scent of decay. Samantha looked stranded here, whereas she had seemed quite at home on Mayflower.
“They didn’t want me around Tony,” Samantha said softly. “They thought I was too attached. They don’t know anything about love.” Adriana nodded warily. She didn’t understand the way these decisions were made, or by whom, but she thought it very likely that Tony had had some say in it.
Samantha lay back on her bed, and breathed. “Will you read to me?” she asked, turning her massive head toward Adriana, who nodded and looked around but didn’t see a book. Samantha gestured toward the bedside table. “It’s in there,” she said. Adriana opened the drawer and shuffled a couple magazines aside. There was only a small hard cover notebook, which looked quite old, and a cookbook. She picked up the cookbook and stared at the cover, which was decorated with a photo of red and yellow apples. “Not that one,” Samantha said, closing her eyes.
Adriana pulled out the notebook, its yellowing pages rasping at her touch. She opened it to a handwritten page with a faded newspaper article taped opposite it. There w
as a photo of a young man, a teenage boy, striding through a ribbon at a finish line. The caption said, “Samuel Johns Wins the Race Walking Competition in Brighton Saturday Past.” Adriana stared at the photo. There was Samantha’s nose and eyes and puffy hair. Could this be her brother?
Samantha closed her eyes and smiled. “My finest hour,” she said. Adriana stared at the book in her hands, afraid to look up.
“Adriana,” Samantha said, startling her. She glanced up into Samantha’s sad eyes. “I have been a woman for more of my life than I was a man.” Samantha sat up, put her legs over the side of the bed, with her back to Adriana and began to unroll her knee highs. Adriana’s face felt hot. She realized she was flushed with anger.
“I didn’t tell you, because it didn’t seem important. To our friendship,” Samantha continued, “which I treasure.” She looked shyly over her shoulder at Adriana. “You are my first friend in a long time.”
Adriana took a breath. She was surprised to realize that Samantha was her first friend too, in years. Besides Jazz, her father, and now maybe her sister, she didn’t really have anyone else. Samantha swung her legs back onto the bed again. Adriana noticed the scars for the first time. “My father used to beat me, with a broom handle,” Samantha said, “When he caught me dressing in my mother’s clothes. He was so afraid,” she laughed softly, “that I’d grow up to be a pouf. It was almost a relief to him I think that I became a woman.”
Adriana was speechless. Samantha looked at her kindly. “It’s a shock to you? Some people know right away that I wasn’t born a girl. It takes them a while to adjust to me. But you,” she smiled, “You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice.” Samantha lay back in her bed, eyes closed. Adriana noted her big hands, her coarse features. How had it never occurred to her that Samantha had been a man? It seemed so obvious now. Adriana experienced a shudder of revulsion, an involuntary, visceral reaction—and then a flash of shame, like the sting of a jellyfish.