by Anna Quon
Mr. Song excused himself to go to the washroom. It seemed, he thought, that the mental hospital always made him want to pee. Was it the gloom of the place, despite all the large prints of cheerful paintings, and the rustic touches, like the hand-painted border around the nursing station? Mr. Song wished there was a two-way mirror so he could see what his daughters were up to without them knowing he was watching. But first he needed to empty his bladder.
Adriana read Beth the miraculous ending to the story of Snow White. Beth took the book in her hands and silently examined the illustrations, detailed line drawings in black and white. Without looking up, she asked Adriana, “Do you think we’ll ever have a stepmother?”
Adriana’s eyes widened. She hadn’t considered the possibility for a long time. She shrugged, her hands open. Beth seemed to be waiting for something. “Dad’s not dating anyone right now,” Adriana said. “He’s only had one date since Mom died.” That was the first summer he was alone and the secretary of the engineering firm he worked for, Doris, had her eye on him. But her father didn’t know how to woo a woman. He invited Doris to supper with himself and Adriana. Maybe she was expecting something fancy from an engineer but he served spaghetti, garlic bread and grape juice. There was one rose in a glass vase in the centre of the table. Doris, looking for something to say, commented, “My favourite flower!”, which Adriana thought was lame, because the rose was just about everyone’s favourite flower. Mr. Song proceeded to tell her how he always had a flower on the table because his wife had loved them. Doris’s smile withered and she sat rigid in her chair for the duration of the meal. When they were finished, they all sat awkwardly on the living room couch and played the board game Sorry, which Adriana now thought quite appropriate. It hadn’t occurred to Mr. Song that including his daughter on his date with Doris would be a problem, but clearly it was. They never repeated the occasion and Mr. Song never even mentioned dating Doris again. It was to Adriana as if the evening had never happened, or even stranger, as if it had never registered on Mr. Song’s radar as an event of any note.
Beth gazed at Adriana as though she were trying to make up her mind about something. Adriana squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, Beth. I know you worry, but things will work themselves out.” Adriana didn’t know for sure if that were true but it was the kind of thing her Dad would say, trusting and ever-hopeful.
Beth looked a lot like their mother, Adriana thought, but she didn’t have that hardness at the core—she was just a traumatized little girl. If Viera had been alive, she might have sat Beth down and given her a stern talking to, but Adriana just held her sister’s hand. She had a strange mixture of emotions mingling inside her—pity and anger, judgement and compassion, and misery. Adriana knew that she wouldn’t choose to be the grudging older sister when she got out of the hospital, but she was fearful of what the relationship with her sister would demand of her. Would Beth want her attention all the time, or her approval?
Adriana was still holding Beth’s hand when Mr. Song came back into the room. He sat down in the chair by the bed and sighed happily. He looked like he might be settled in for the afternoon, but Adriana suddenly felt like she needed to be alone, to sort things out in her head. She gave Beth’s hand a squeeze and let go. “Thank you for coming,” Adriana said, smiling at them both. She wasn’t sure how to tell them she wanted them to leave, but Beth stood up, her grey eyes rimmed red. She was ready to go home for a nap, or a little television therapy, Adriana thought. Mr. Song, slightly disappointed, got to his feet. Adriana held out her hand to her father. “I’m a bit tired, Dad,” she said by way of an excuse. It was the first time she’d ever explained herself to him. Mr. Song nodded eagerly, sensing something had changed though he was not able to put his finger on what or how.
“You rest then,” he said, steering Beth toward the door. Beth looked back at Adriana, who waved at her from the bed. She felt as though she were sending her younger sister off on a long voyage, a voyage she too had navigated through storms and gales, without a map. She hoped the Song family constellation, small as it was, would be enough to guide her sister to a safer path than the one she found herself on.
Chapter 32
At supper, there was an extra tray with a roast beef dinner on it. Adriana didn’t think twice about forgoing her plastic-wrapped sandwich. A hot meal was still like a revelation to her, after so many meals of hard boiled eggs and cereal. Then she returned to her room, eager to take up the knitting again. She was careful though, aware that this hobby of hers could become an obsession, that it was bordering on one already. When there was a knock on the door, Adriana let the knitting fall in her lap.
Fiona poked her head into the crack of the open door. She looked very tired. “Hi, Adriana,” she said. “Elspeth will be coming back soon. I’m off shift now and won’t be coming back to this unit, but I wanted to tell you that Dr. Burke discontinued your sleeping pill. He thinks you’ll do do okay without it,” Fiona said, smiling encouragingly and smoothing a place to sit on Adriana’s bed with her tanned hand. Adriana realized that was considered progress, here in the mental hospital. Every little movement toward passing through those stone gates was something to celebrate. And actually, strangely, Adriana felt a puff of pride. “So I wanted to say goodbye.” Fiona admitted. Adriana looked at her, regretfully. “Actually I’m going on maternity leave, so I won’t see you before you leave the hospital.”
There were lines on Fiona’s face that Adriana hadn’t noticed before. Crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes, and deep laugh lines around her mouth. Also, little wrinkle lines in the middle of her forehead, from worry. Fiona took Adriana’s hand. “I have a daughter your age,” she said, smiling. “And a granddaughter.” Adriana’s eyes widened. “My daughter is a smart girl, like you, but she followed too closely in my footsteps. She had her daughter when she was 18. And my daughter is depressed, too sick to take care of her child. So that’s my job.” Fiona didn’t look bitter but she did look worried. “I decided to have this baby before it was too late, and so that my granddaughter would have someone to grow up with. I don’t know whether it’s the right decision, but then, no one ever really knows that, do they?” She smiled, sadly, Adriana thought. So it wasn’t Elspeth at all. It was Fiona.
Adriana leaned back against her pillows. Fiona was a grandmother, not the golden girl she had thought. Adriana shook her head. It wasn’t possible. Fiona smiled and patted her hand. “My first daughter was an accident,” she said smiling. “A happy accident. But my second is definitely part of a plan. The father knows about the plan, but doesn’t intend to be a part of this child’s life,” she said rubbing her belly thoughtfully. “That’s his choice. I’m just grateful he did me this one little favour before we parted company.”
“Congratulations, Fiona. I think you must be a great mom,” she said quietly. Her head ached. She closed her eyes. The sound of her voice, saying something so unremarkable, nevertheless felt strange and new.
Fiona got up from the bed and waddled toward the door. “Adriana, my sweet,” she said. “You don’t need to know it, but my first daughter doesn’t want to be admitted to the NS, even though she has been depressed a long time, even though she needs to be here. I don’t blame her. I’m trying to take care of her at home but it’s not easy. You did a brave thing to come here, and I hope you’ll be just as brave when you leave. I’ll have to say goodbye now, but I hope you keep making good choices. Go be happy and healthy and skedaddle out of this place soon,” Fiona smiled, and closed the door behind her.
Fiona was like a beacon, a shining light on the shores of happiness. Even now that she knew Fiona’s story, there was something about her that was like gold. Adriana knew it wasn’t courage that brought her to hospital, but the opposite. She had been at the end of her rope, frantic and afraid. And hopeless. That was the worst of it. And there was Fiona, choosing a life for herself that would have caused Adriana to despair. But she chose it for a reason and she was
clear about what she wanted. Adriana felt like she was still groping in the darkness, not able to see beyond her fingertips.
She looked down at the knitting in her lap. What was it that drove her? Making scarves didn’t indicate any kind of plan. The opposite in fact. She was still trying to keep reality at bay. Jazz had once told her, “Put your knitting needles away, grandma, and come play.” Jazz, who wanted to be a doctor (when she didn’t want to be a chemist or a kinesiologist). She took the right courses at school, even though she struggled with the sciences. She was always planning something.
Adriana didn’t know what it was that held her back. She had guessed by now that most people didn’t have a long-dead mother sitting in the back of their head, waiting and watching. The medication seemed to keep her at bay, but she was aware of her mother’s eyes on her just the same. It occurred to her that she had spent more time trying to placate or avoid her mother than she had thinking about her future. And her relationship with Peter was just one more attempt to be someone, in that case a girlfriend, instead of herself. And it had been a failed attempt.
It felt like something had shifted in Adriana’s head. She realized that her brain no longer felt like a murky slosh, but more like a darkened room, where someone was moving furniture around. There was a ray of light, illuminating dust motes that floated like tiny sea creatures in the dense shadow of her mind.
She got out of bed wrapping her latest scarf around her neck. It was fuchsia and orange, too bright for a depressed person. Adriana guessed she would have to choose between her scarf and her diagnosis. She decided on the scarf.
Chapter 33
The hallway was deserted and there were just a couple people in the common room. One was a sleeping man. He looked somehow familiar, although she was certain she hadn’t seen him on the unit before. The other was Samantha, her massive frame squeezed into the rocker, her legs stretched out in front of her. She beamed at Adriana.
“I came to see you,” she said. Her mouth crumpled a little. “Tony is off shift so they let me visit.” Adriana sat down cross-legged on the couch across from her. Samantha looked just the same, but her face was tastefully made up. “They said you were sleeping so I waited out here for you.”
Adriana smiled, and Samantha let out a loud guffaw, which she stifled immediately with her large hand. The orderly looked at her with disapproval, and the sleeping man on the couch, opened his eye blearily and rolled over, his back to the room.
Samantha leaned toward her, confidentially. “Things are better over on Laurel,” she said, with a sidelong glance at the orderly, who glared at her. Samantha smiled back sweetly, and whispered aloud. “They don’t treat you like a criminal for expressing yourself over there,” she said. The orderly stood up and went into the back room of the nursing station, clearly miffed. Samantha laughed, a lovely peal that overflowed itself, and the man on the couch stirred slightly. She clapped a hand over her mouth again. “Don’t want to wake up the poor soul,” she said. “He looks like he needs all the sleep he can get.
Adriana played with the scarf around her neck. There was something she wanted to ask. “Samantha,” she said.
“Yes, my pet?” she asked.
Adriana took a breath. “When you were my age, did you know you wanted to be a woman?”
Samantha smiled and nodded, her eyes bright. “I knew since I was a little boy,” she said. “Since I was two years old.”
Adriana let that information sink in. She didn’t remember anything from that young age. She suspected Samantha might be imagining it. “Did you ever wonder whether you were making the right decision, when you became a woman?” There, she’d said it. Did Samantha have doubts? Regrets?
Samantha reached over and took Adriana’s hands. “I never doubted myself. Not for a single minute.”
What would that feel like, Adriana wondered. To know something with such clarity, and something so huge, so life-changing. She had never felt that sure about anything. And then to wake up, in the body of your choice. Would it be like dying and going to heaven, Adriana wondered? To finally be in the body you craved, would that be as freeing as having no body at all? It was something Adriana couldn’t imagine. She had spent so much time trying to fade into the background, that to launch something as spectacular as a war on her own body seemed unthinkable. But then there were her haircuts, lopsided, striking in their unconventionality. She had allowed Jazz to do many experiments with her hair, without a word of protest. She may have been trying to blend in but a part of her obviously wanted to stand out.
Samantha leaned back in her rocker and closed her eyes. She seemed happy, Adriana thought. Despite the whole thing with Tony and the shock of the hurricane, she was smiling. Adriana felt ashamed of herself. “Sam, do you want to go downstairs and sit out back?” Adriana asked. Samantha’s eyes popped open. Adriana realized she had never called her Sam before, and had never asked to do anything that took them away from the unit. Samantha grinned, and Adriana noticed how small her teeth were.
“Why I would be delighted!” Samantha said, in her best southern belle drawl. “Just let me go get my jacket.” She heaved herself out of the rocker and went off toward Laurel.
Adriana stood by the pay phone. She wanted to call Jazz but something told her to give it a little more time. Adriana wasn’t used to heeding her own instincts, but she figured that it might be time to start.
The phone rang and she jumped, then collected herself enough to answer it. “Mayflower Unit,” she said. There was a pause and then a rather prim female voice asked, “Could I speak to Bartholomew?” Adriana tried to think. Was there a Bartholomew on the unit? She didn’t think so. “He’s rather new,” the voice on the phone said. Adriana stepped around the corner where the man lay on the couch facing the wall. His eyes were open. “Are you Bartholomew?” she asked. He turned to look at her, and in his eyes there was a faraway light. It was him—Bartholomew Banks, the spiritualist that Jazz had taken her to see, a whole other life ago.
“That’s me,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep. He slowly pushed himself to a sitting position. The phone wouldn’t reach him.
“There’s a chair here by the phone,” Adriana said and he rose stiffly, but almost majestically, she thought. She handed over the receiver. He wasn’t wearing a buckskin like that night at the Westin, she noticed, but a neat buttoned down shirt and jeans with the same cowboy boots.
Samantha buzzed in and walked toward Adriana, but was clearly intrigued by Bartholomew, now that she saw him upright. Adriana had to admit he was quite a striking figure with his shaggy head and neat cowboy attire. She pulled the johnny shirt around her. She doubted it was cold outside but it was October now. She realized suddenly that it was her father’s birthday, the day after China celebrated its national holiday. Her father hadn’t mentioned it when he came to visit and Beth probably didn’t even know. Adriana felt a pang of sadness. Her dad always remembered her birthday. Damn brain.
Samantha leaned toward her. “Who is that charming fellow?” she whispered.
“Bartholomew Banks” Adriana answered, apprehensive. He looked up from his conversation, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light. Samantha smiled, hungrily. Adriana took Samantha’s elbow and steered her toward the exit. “He’s a spiritualist,” she offered.
“ A… what’s that?” Samantha asked.
Adriana sighed. It felt like too much to explain. “He talks to dead people,” she said, heading for the stairs. “Let’s go outside.” Samantha was clearly perturbed by the appearance of the handsome stranger, and the fact that Adriana knew him. She even forgot to buy herself a bag of chips and a pop from the machine in the basement when they passed it.
“How do you know about all this?” she asked. Adriana shrugged.
“Jazz took me to see his show before I ended up in hospital” she said.
Samantha was awestruck. “He does shows? Where he talks to the
dead?”
Adriana shrugged again. “Hesays he talks to the dead, anyway,” she allowed, pushing open the door to the back of the hospital. Samantha, lost in thought, sat down under the overhang on the first low plastic bench she came to. It looked like it had sat there since the 1970s.
The harbour was calm and grey, reflecting the clouds overhead. There were crickets in the grass, calling to one another from between the goldenrod and aster. Adriana thought about Jeff, and wondered what had happened to the cricket when he broke the jar that was its home. She imagined it crawling under the bed, away from all the blood, and she shivered.
Samantha seemed to forget about Bartholomew Banks. “Are you cold?” she asked, concerned. Adriana realized she was. Samantha stood up. “You should have brought a sweater.” Adriana shrank. It was something her mother would have said. But Samantha wasn’t criticizing her. She put her enormous arm around Adriana’s shoulders and laughed. “You are such a young person. Young people never think about things like whether they’ll be too cold. It’s only old ladies like me that dress for the weather,” she said and gave Adriana’s shoulders a gentle squeeze.
They sat side by side on the plastic bench until a wind swept from the harbour across the sewage pond. Samantha held her nose and Adriana stood up. “Let’s go back inside,” she said. Samantha got to her feet and stretched upward, grasping her hands high above her head. “It’s been ages since I did yoga,” she said. “I’m all tied in knots.” Adriana looked shocked. She couldn’t imagine Samantha doing yoga. Samantha glanced at her, sideways and shy. “Yoga is for everyone,” she said, “even old ladies like me.”