by Jamie Mackay
***
When Tatum woke up, she felt renewed and energized. She started organizing her apartment and putting things in, at the very least, the right rooms. She worked for an hour or so and then realized that her other task for the day was yet to be accomplished, and it was already starting to work into the late afternoon.
She had skipped her run that morning so that she could get right to work on her reno project, so she thought on-foot would be the perfect way to check out her new place of business. Tatum slid out of her cut-offs and pulled on her running shorts; she left her hair in a ponytail, but replaced her t-shirt with a tight fitted gym top. She always felt confident in her running gear, she knew she looked well-toned and she was starting to sport a bit of a tan.
.
The hospital was not far from her apartment. She had planned it that way. But despite her chosen close proximity, Tatum took the long way around so that she could get in some running prior to her tour. She timed her run.
Yup, she thought to herself, the whole perimeter of town in under an hour.
She slowed up as she neared the north end of town where the hospital was located. She couldn't see it from the street; the entire grounds were guarded by strategically planted trees and shrubs that created a sort of fortress around the institution.
The 'Units' as the locals referred to it was a mental hospital erected by the province sometime around 1900. No one seemed quite certain of the actual date it was built. Tatum suspected that the lack of certainty was less about poor collective memory and more about the fact that the hospital had been built in stages as more need for patient room was realized.
Wainwright had been put on the map by the hospital and its proper name, Wainwright Mental Institute (WMI), proudly proclaimed the small town's ownership. About two decades previous, most of North America had adopted a policy of de-institutionalization, moving patients with mental health issues out of institutions and into the community. Few institutions had survived, and those that did housed only those with the most disturbed mental health, those with serious neurological or developmental disabilities and no family or alternate care, and those who posed a serious threat to the rest of society.
WMI was revered for its research focus intent on studying and improving mental health interventions around the globe. The institution had somewhere in the vicinity of 200-300 patients, depending on the month, and 176 staff. WMI was the primary employer in Wainwright and its presence was something that the locals held dear. They had become much accustomed to having supervised patients walking the streets and shopping in the shops. Even Wainwright's citizens themselves were surprised by their ability to accommodate to the strange sights and sounds that sometimes resulted from WMI's presence in their town.
The WMI internship had been sought by many talented potential interns; Tatum had been chosen on a recommendation from Dr. Zubert. She impressed upon the evaluation committee that Tatum not only had excellent scholastic credential, but also possessed remarkable empathy, compassion and understanding for patients, and held herself to a high level of ethical practice.
Tatum neared the entrance of the grounds with a sense of anxiety. She was both entering her new place of employment and also trying to complete a bit of a covert mission. She was hoping to get her first glance at the Units without anyone noticing her. She wasn't ready to meet her new employers and co-workers in her running gear.
It was nearing early evening and the grounds seemed to her to be a bit deserted.
Likely a combination of dinner hour and shift change, she thought to herself.
Similar to her first response to Main Street, Tatum's first response to WMI was that it seemed exactly as she would have seen on a movie. Only, this time, instead of a feel-good small-town USA chick flick, it would have been one of those suspense movies where everything looks serene at the beginning but eventually all the characters go crazy and start killing each other.
The grounds were perfectly manicured and revealed acres and acres of uniformly cut grass. With the exception of the missing diamond shaped cut-ins, Tatum thought that it could have been the perfectly kept turf of a professional ball diamond.
The driveway was long and both sides were dressed with cedar shrubs that stood nearly nine feet high and had been carefully groomed into a well-shaped border for the stately drive.
Tatum caught herself gawking as she moved to the end of the long driveway and took in, for the first time, the true expansiveness of her new place of work. She had been told that WMI was nearly a mile around, but it was something she supposed everyone would have to see to believe.
The main drive was the only entrance in, but at the end of the main drive was 'Ring Road', a circular driveway that encased the entire structure, as well as a series of small jaunts and drives that allowed access to the series of buildings making up the larger structure. Like everything else in Wainwright, the institution's architecture seemed to be from the early 1900s and bricks and lions' heads were definitely the dominant theme.
The red brick buildings seemed to run into one another, but each had a large and stately marble staircase in the immediate front, allowing an onlooker to determine that each similarly situated structure was, indeed, a separate unit.
Tatum had seen lots of marble staircases in Chicago, marble tended to be the material of choice for libraries and museums. But, she had never seen marble like this. It was as if every inch had been scrubbed with a toothbrush. The glow from the staircase was so intense that Tatum was unsure whether they had been meticulously polished, or whether it was the intense Saskatchewan sun making them shine.
She wiped her forehead. She could not remember a time when running had been so hard and when she'd sweated so much. Chicago was known for its summer humidity, how could she possibly sweat more here?
Intent on continuing to say out of sight, Tatum worked her way around Ring Road concealed behind whatever form of shrubbery happened to be available. She took in the stately grandeur of the buildings and continued to admire the seemingly endless miles of flawlessly groomed grounds. Rarely had she seen something so beautiful and serene. She thought the entire place was a strange contradiction. As picturesque and stunning as any estate ever created, but with the eerie aura of a place with stories many would be reticent to hear.