Seasons After Fall

by Reginald Linsao

  “I’m sorry, Brian.”

  “Don’t be. I made a mistake. I now realize that I’m not as alone as I thought I was. Sometimes it’s only through the perspective of great loss and tragedy that we’re able to open our eyes to a lesson we need to learn. With my sister’s help, I’m going to make something of myself and be proud of that. I don’t know how, exactly, but I will.”

  Rowan slumped over. “I think I’ve felt what you’ve felt. It’s scary to be alone.”

  “It is. Just hold on to the people that love you and never forget that their feelings don’t just disappear for no reason. You don’t want to end up like me.”

  “But it’s hard to avoid having anxiety about this kind of stuff, you know?”

  “I understand. It takes time to get over these fears.”

  “I suppose so,” said Rowan. He wondered whether or not the terrible, lonely fate that befell Brian would one day consume him as well, but he wrestled away the awful vision before it could fully snap its jaws on his mind.

  Dr. Robinson soon appeared with a clipboard in his hand. “Hey Rowan, are you ready to come and talk?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brian sat up straight. “Hey doc, make sure you help this kid, all right?”

  “So, I see you two have gotten to know each other.”

  “We’re like brothers now,” said Brian. “Except I’m the older brother who never did anything with his life, unlike this kid. He’s gonna make it out there. He’s going to college.”

  “Is that so, Rowan?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’d like to hear more about that. Come with me.”

  Rowan followed Dr. Robinson around a corner past the weight scale where he had checked in, which led to a set of cubicles that were quite a distance away from the patients. He sat down in the office chair next to Dr. Robinson’s computer and immediately felt scrutinized by surrounding posters about various mental illnesses. Brochures littered the desk in front of him, some concerning the side effects of anti-psychotic medications, and some concerning the treatment of narcissistic family members.

  Dr. Robinson pulled out a pen. “Okay Rowan, would you like to tell me what happened yesterday at school?”

  “I said something stupid out of pure anger. I didn’t mean it.”

  “What exactly did you say?”

  Rowan sat still for a moment. “You know what I said.”

  “I want to hear your side of the story. Tell me everything.”

  “I’m just stressed out, all right? I told my best friend that I wanted to kill someone who was being an asshole—but I didn’t mean it. I’ve been overworked lately, and I didn’t mean it.”

  “Have you ever lashed out like this before?”

  Rowan ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “Not like this, but I’ve gotten angry before, yeah. But I’m not always this intense. It just depends on what happened.”

  “Okay, I’ll make note of that. And you’re planning on going to college, yes?”

  “Yeah. I’ve got to help out my family as best as I can. I can’t do that without a degree.”

  “How stressful is school?” Dr. Robinson flipped through several pieces of paper on his clipboard. “This says you’re ranked first out of everyone in your class. I imagine that’s difficult.”

  “School and homework consume my life. I needed to work as hard as I did in order to get into Harvard, and if I still want to go there and succeed, I need to keep up my work ethic.”

  “Harvard? That’s impressive. But that’s quite far from here.”

  “Yeah, it is, and that’s one of my problems.” Rowan watched Dr. Robinson write down a few notes. “Going there is gonna separate me from my friends and family.”

  “Have you never been away from your friends or family for an extended period of time?”

  “Never.”

  Dr. Robinson scanned through the notes on his clipboard once again. “So let’s recap a bit. You’re stressed out from school and you’re afraid of moving out to Harvard because you’re scared of losing people, correct?”

  “I guess so.”

  The doctor wrote something else down. “Okay, is there anything else you’re worried about? Anything more specific?”

  Rowan took in an aching breath. “Leaving my best friend Caitlyn.”

  “How long have you and Caitlyn known each other?”

  “We grew up together,” said Rowan, looking away from Dr. Robinson in order to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. “And I don’t know how I’ll feel when we start growing up apart from each other. If I really do move far away from her, I’m going to miss important things in her life if I can’t afford the ticket back home, or to whatever college she goes to. What if I miss her birthday? Or what if a really good movie comes out that we both really love, but we can’t even watch it together?”

  Rowan paused for a second to clear the lump in his throat. “Caitlyn and I are going to become adults one day, and the less time we spend with each other while we’re young, the worse I’ll feel. Time only gets scarcer and scarcer the older we get, and I don’t know how often I’ll even get to see her when we’re both older and working and have actual adult responsibilities in our lives. All that I’ll have left will be these memories of the things we used to do.”

  Dr. Robinson stopped writing for a moment. “Maintaining relationships is hard. And you’re right—the older we get, the less time we generally have. But that doesn’t mean anything. Relationships aren’t defined by the length of time you spend with others—they’re defined by the rich experiences you have with those people. I’m sure that you and Caitlyn will always make time for each other, even when you’re older. Relationships don’t diminish unless you let them—and I know you won’t let your relationship with Caitlyn diminish. Will you?”

  “No,” said Rowan quietly. “I won’t.”

  “Okay, then.” Dr. Robinson looked at the clock. “I want to come back to the comment you made when you lost your temper. You said you wanted to kill someone, so perhaps instead of seeking retribution, you might consider de-escalation instead. I need you to think about changing the way you direct and channel your anger.”

  “But I didn’t mean it.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you meant it or not. We’re going to look into the ways you resolve problems, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  The doctor checked off a few boxes on the sheet of paper he had. “We’ll resume this conversation a bit later once I go through and absorb all of this information, all right? But for now, it seems that you’re facing a lot of stress and anxiety, so let’s come up with a preliminary plan to have you de-stress.”

  “What am I supposed to do? I’m going to be stressing out just by being in here.”

  Dr. Robinson placed the sheets of paper he was holding into a folder. “I want you to try to understand yourself, Rowan. Try to really understand yourself. Understand how you think, how you act, and how you react to things. You’ll find that you may be able to frame your thoughts in a much healthier manner, and in turn, you’ll be able to cope with the stress and anxiety you’re facing.”

  “How am I supposed to do that, then?”

  “Are you creative, by any chance?”

  Rowan stared at the doctor for a few seconds. “I enjoy writing, I guess.”

  “Perfect. We’re going to use that as way to get you to de-stress and give you an opportunity to start re-framing your thoughts.”

  “So you’re telling me you’re going to let me write? Am I allowed to have a pencil and some pieces of paper, then?”

  “Well, no. You can use the pencil as a weapon, even if we gave you a dull one. But we do have a closed off environment that I could grant you access to. There’s a room with a computer through that door over there.” He pointed to a door that Nurse Maria came out of. “Although, that room is only one door away from the main lobby of the hospital, so you could actually try to run away, which we obviously don’t want. You’re going to have to l
et me know if you want to start writing so I can send a chaperone in with you. Unfortunately, the computer is out of commission today, so you won’t have access until later tonight or until the very early morning.”

  “How long will it take for me to prove that I’m good enough to get out of here?”

  “As long as we need, Rowan. I’ll be doing periodic check-ups on you and we’ll be charting your progress, so sit tight and make yourself comfortable. You’re free to go back into the lounge area.”

  As he left, Rowan took a lingered gaze on a poster about the effects of sleep deprivation on growing teens. He scoffed and began to make his way back to the seat he had next to Brian, but a towering figure stood firmly in his path. Rowan looked up to see the scowl of a deathly pale man, whose condescending glare terrified him.

  “How did it feel?” asked the man.

  Rowan attempted to walk around the impassable shroud, but he was met by the shuffling of feet and the extension of a bulky arm, which nearly collided with his chest.

  “How did it feel?”

  Rowan backed up a few steps, but the man did not cease to encroach on his personal space. He reluctantly responded. “How did what feel?”

  “Haven’t you noticed something since you’ve been in here?”

  “I just got here.”

  “I guess you haven’t been around long enough to see it then,” said the man. He placed his right hand on his chin and shook his head. “But even though you’re new, there’s no excuse for you to not see what’s so obvious. You must be stupid, right? That must be why you’re in here.”

  “Sure,” said Rowan, gritting his teeth. He didn’t think it was wise to pick a fight with a guy almost twice his size. “Whatever.”

  “I’ll make it simple for you, then. The people who say they’re taking care of you here are actually against you. They look down on all of us. Are you following me?”

  Rowan nodded his head, prompting the man to continue. “They act like we all have some sort of disease that only they know how to fix, but I know how this shit works. I have a friend that was in one of these hospitals once. His name’s Quigley. He told me all about how the doctors assume they’re better than us, like we have something to learn from them.”

  Dr. Robinson peeked around the corner. “Decker, it’s time to go.”

  Brian stood up from his seat and walked toward the pair. “Rowan, get over here.”

  Decker turned around and approached Brian. “Hey, fuck off. Can’t you see I’m having a conversation?”

  “Calm down. I didn’t say anything to you.”

  Rowan attempted to move around Decker, but the giant shoved him backwards and began to yell at him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  The boy backed away and looked for a weapon, but there was nothing in sight. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Dr. Robinson came to the pair and was able to immediately coax Decker into his cubicle by hiding something behind his back. “Sorry about that, Rowan.”

  The boy stormed off and sat down next to Brian. “I hope that piece of shit gets a lobotomy.”

  “Don’t be so extreme,” said Brian. “Decker is like that to everyone here. Don’t mind him too much. Find a way to avoid any more problems until you get out of this dreaded place.”

  “I know, I know. I just get heated a lot, that’s all.”

  “Decker is the one guy you shouldn’t be arguing with. We all try to avoid him as best as we can in here.”

  Rowan frowned. “It was a little difficult to avoid him there.”

  “Sorry, I know. Just… avoid him from now on. He’s really full of himself, and he holds some really bad grudges. He’ll do anything to make your life worse here if you make him angry in the slightest. He might even kill you if you look at him the wrong way.”

  “Fine. I won’t have to deal with him once I get out of here, anyway.”

  “That’s a good attitude to have.” Brian smiled in approval. “Anyway, speaking of getting out of here, I didn’t mention something to you earlier. My sister came by before you got here. She’s going to sign some papers tomorrow and pick me up so she could take care of me for a few days. Or a few weeks. However long I need, I suppose. Just until I’m a bit stable.”

  “That’s great,” said Rowan. “Hopefully I’m out of here soon after, too, since I don’t think there are too many other people in here to talk to except for you or the doctors.”

  Brian laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so either, but not everyone in here is so bad. Everyone in here is just trying to get help, that’s all. Even if it isn’t their choice to begin with, that’s what they’re here for.”

  “I guess so. It’s just that I’ve been primed by society to think that all people with mental illnesses are awful and scary or something.”

  “I wholeheartedly agree with you on that one. Everyone looks down on people with mental illnesses. People expect us to do something wrong. They treat us like villains. It’s a rare case that any of us even does something violent. It happens, but not always. The media perpetuates mental illness as a violent thing, but there’s already enough violence in the world. Why make it worse?”

  “I don’t know,” said Rowan, shutting his eyes. “Maybe that’s all the world ever thinks about.”

  It was night now. Rowan’s fatigue grew stronger in response to Brian's deep slumber beside him, but he could not find the comfort, or perhaps even the will, to sleep. There was a slew of mumbling all across the room, not to mention the screams. It was a little disturbing and jarring, but the noises themselves were not what really prevented the boy from closing his eyes.

  Every howl reminded him that he was in a place far away from the people he loved. Just like the rest of the patients, Rowan wanted to scream, to wail, to cry out in anger at the world for placing him in this awful predicament, but he did not. His rage would only keep him in here longer. After all, it was his rage that got him in here in the first place, and Rowan had enough self-awareness to understand that there was something about his behavior that needed to be rectified. He needed to do something that would actually get him back home.

  He stood up from his seat. As he wandered over to the cubicles where he expected Dr. Robinson to be, he thought about what Brian had said about Decker. Would Decker actually kill someone if he held a grudge against them? For what it was worth, Decker didn’t kill any of the doctors even though he hated them all. Maybe he was thinking about it, though, but he just didn’t get around to doing it yet. Maybe he simply didn’t have any opportunities so far. Either way, Rowan needed to do his best to avoid running into him. If Decker didn’t hold a grudge against him now, it seemed like he would develop one quite soon.

  Rowan returned to where he had been questioned that morning, and to his satisfaction, he found exactly what he was looking for. “Dr. Robinson?”

  The man turned away from his computer. “You’re still up, Rowan? It’s already 3 A.M.”

  “Is the computer available yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, it is available now. I can send a nurse to escort you to the room.” Dr. Robinson’s face lit up with a semblance of achievement. “Take your time in there, Rowan. The point is to get better, and if this indeed helps you de-stress, then I’m all for you being there for as long as you need—until we have our meetings, that is.”

  “Thanks, doctor.”

  A young woman soon led Rowan to the place that he decided would be his room of solace. “We have explicit instructions to disallow patients from browsing the web, by the way.”

  Rowan sat down in front of the old computer at the far end of the room and looked up at the woman. “What if I need to do research for anything that I’m writing?”

  “I guess you can do that.” She leaned her back against the wall behind him. “And don’t worry, I won’t be reading anything you’re typing.”

  “All right. Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Rowan opened up a word document a
nd began to think about what he wanted to write about. He wasn’t too sure where to start. He thought about journaling his day, and perhaps of the previous day as well, but he still felt a lingering sense of unease about the watchful eyes behind him. Would this writing exercise even really help him de-stress? This suddenly felt like a waste of time, but since he was here, he figured that he might as well do something.

  He decided to start with a poem. Unsure of where to begin, he etched out a few possible lines and looked them over:

  I cannot leave, I cannot go.

  This place is my home, my life, my soul.

  But in the end, I think I know

  That this time, I no longer have control.

  Rowan mumbled the words to himself. “I cannot leave, I cannot go… this place is my home, my life, my soul.”

  “Something the matter?” The nurse began to walk over to him.

  “No, I was just muttering to myself. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Okay, just tell me if you need something. I’ll just be on my phone.”

  Rowan looked over his poem once again and decided to scrap the idea. Sifting through his thoughts, he cleared his mind and started anew.

  4

  Rowan hadn’t noticed that the nurse who was initially watching over him had already been replaced by a much older, yet equally apathetic woman. It must’ve been morning now, as his eyes desperately strained to not only read the letters on the monitor in front of him, but also to remain open. He had sacrificed sleep for a little bit of mental comfort, and though he was completely drained, this may have been a fair trade in the grand scheme of things.