Conditional Voluntary
Page 27
“So, did I blow it?” Patrick asked Dr. Kearney that afternoon.
“Blow it, Patrick?”
They were meeting in the psychiatrist’s tiny office once again. Nothing outward had changed but Patrick still felt ashamed of himself.
“What I did to Anthony, doesn’t that affect my discharge?”
The doctor shook his head.
“It was an isolated incident. Regrettable, yes, but not part of a behavior pattern that concerns us. You’re still on track to leave sometime next week.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Patrick said with a sigh. “I… I still don’t know what got into me, exactly. That’s not something I usually do. I never do things like that, really!”
“How d’you account for it, then?” Dr. Kearney asked. “Any ideas?”
“All I can say,” Patrick muttered, “is that I was just so frustrated with Anthony. I couldn’t stand the scene he was making. It had to stop. But… but maybe it wasn’t just him.”
“Oh?”
“Maybe it was more than him,” Patrick elaborated, thinking out loud. “It might have been everything. I have to admit it’s frustrating just being in here. I want out, simple as that.”
“Of course.”
Patrick smiled and allowed himself to laugh nervously.
“What’s that for?” Dr. Kearney asked with a smile of his own.
“It had nothing to do with the DEA,” Patrick announced proudly. “It… it’s a normal problem, right?”
“As normal as anything gets around here,” the psychiatrist agreed. “The incident itself has been addressed and dealt with. You may feel free to put it behind you.”
“So, do I get a twelve-hour pass this weekend?” Patrick asked after a shy hesitation.
“We’ll see. Now, you tell me that the drug authorities had nothing to do with what happened in the art room yesterday.”
“That’s right.”
“And you don’t feel like they’re watching you anymore?”
“I know that now.”
“Spend much time worrying about them lately?”
“Not really. I know it’s nothing personal now. I doubt the DEA even has a file on me. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but how does the DEA figure into things for you right now?”
“Figure into things?”
“What, if anything, do they have to do with your breakdown?”
“Oh, I’ve told you: maybe I’m just an insignificant little ant to them but what they’ve been doing was making me paranoid. Some drug users get arrested, some of us get our minds fucked with.”
Patrick paused and cracked a nervous grin. He apologized for the profanity; you didn’t swear like that in front of your grandfather.
The psychiatrist laughed again and told Patrick that he had served in the Marine Corps during the Big War against the Axis. Four-letter words were hardly shocking to him.
“And now that you don’t feel that the federal narcotics authorities are making a special effort to persecute you, how d’you feel about leaving this hospital when the time comes?”
“I’m not worried at all anymore,” Patrick said forthrightly. “I’m only worried about staying in here too long.”
Dr. Kearney nodded.
“And isn’t that a healthy thing to be worried about?”
“Indeed it is. As is your remorse over the incident with Anthony.”
“God, that’s some relief,” Patrick said, exhaling. “So, you were saying last time that I’m supposed to be getting outpatient treatment as a follow-up?”
“That’s right. It’s being looked into right now. We don’t just send you home without a support system in place.”
Patrick nodded but he still wondered if what the staff called a support system would become an intrusion for him. There would be more pills, though. That was a given. Once Patrick’s prescription ran out, he’d have to get more through some sort of outpatient clinic. Best to cooperate with that.
A sudden scream penetrated the office door. Dr. Kearney sprung out his chair with surprising speed for a man of his age and size.
“Stay here!”
Patrick stayed in the office but stood in the open doorway to try and see what was happening. He thought about his doctor’s military experience. There he was, storming that beach again. Was it Normandy or Guadalcanal?
Justine was the one doing the screaming. As that fact dawned on Patrick, he disobeyed Dr. Kearney and walked fearfully out into the hall. He lagged behind a group of staff members following the psychiatrist: Stacey, Gloria, Frank, and Brenda.
“Look what’s going on!” Justine shouted, pointing at her half-opened door. “Go in there and do something about it!”
Patrick watched Frank and Dr. Kearney take the lead, pushing open the door. The nurses were right behind them while Brenda lingered outside. Patrick saw the opportunity to hurry down and meet Justine.
They spoke in the smoking room, as usual. Justine had become so flustered, she hadn’t even brought a pack of cigarettes with her.
“They were fucking in there!” Justine told Patrick breathlessly.
“Who?”
“Cindy! She was doing that ugly creep Gus!”
“My God!”
They heard a muffled argument from her room; one of the staff had closed the door. Patrick and Justine stood in the threshold of the smoking room. Brenda might have tried to wave them off but she herself seemed intent on listening in through the door.
Just a moment later, Frank escorted Gus out of the room. The patient seemed calm. This was not a restraint situation. Gus actually looked pleased with himself, a first since Patrick had seen him. Gus was mumbling something about having given Cindy a good time.
Patrick felt queasy, wondering if Cindy had just been raped.
“Sure, she’s capable of it,” Stacey was saying as she left the bedroom alongside Gloria. “I hate to say it but Cindy probably was the aggressor.”
Gloria was shaking her head. Both nurses seemed preoccupied, uninterested in Patrick and Justine.
“Well, there was that incident in her intake history,” Gloria commented, her voice trailing off as she disappeared from view.
Brenda followed right behind them. Patrick realized that Dr. Kearney must have been counseling Cindy in the bedroom. He was willing to let the good doctor tend to this more pressing concern. Besides, Patrick was dying to hear more from his girlfriend once they settled onto the sofa.
“So you just walked in on them?”
“Yeah! He was right on top of her, his pants were pulled down, I could see his ass!”
Justine shuddered and gripped Patrick’s left knee.
“Disgusting!” Justine shouted as Patrick nodded in agreement.
“Maybe they were both desperate,” he suggested.
“They’re both a couple of lowlife animals. Deserve each other…”
“That’s a little rough.”
“No it isn’t!” Justine snapped irritably. “I have to share a room with that fat cow. And you…”
“What?” Patrick asked when she paused, feeling impatient himself.
“That old bastard called you a faggot in front of everyone at the assembly and now you’re defending him?”
“No, he’s still an asshole. But, hey, why do you have to hate people so much?”
“What d’you mean?”
“You… you get so worked up over what the other patients and the staff do around here. You… you should relax.”
“Listen, jerkoff,” Justine replied in a soft yet edgy voice, “you haven’t put in the kind of time in these places that I have. Maybe everyone seems nice and sweet to you now but they’ll screw you over if they think there’s… there’s something in it for them. You’ll learn that sooner or later. You don’t want to believe me? Then just you wait. You’ll get it right up the ass when you least expect it!”
“Sorry,” Patrick mumbled, me
aning he was sorry that he’d tried to reason with her.
“And I don’t need you to criticize me,” Justine added. “I need you for something else.”
She leaned over and kissed him. Patrick had braced himself for a hard kiss like the one she’d planted on him in front of those witnesses in the day room. This time, however, she kissed him lightly, almost daintily.
Opening his eyes, Patrick saw that hers were brimming with tears. He felt a sudden chill as one tear rolled down her cheekbone.
“Hey… I’m really sorry…”
“It’ll be all right,” Justine sniffed, putting her head on his shoulder.
“I was going to tell you, Dr. Kearney is giving me a pass this weekend. Or he’s thinking about it, at least. I suppose I’ll be out of here next week.”
“Good for you. I had a pass two weekends ago, remember? And one yesterday, too. That son of a bitch Adams won’t schedule me for discharge!”
“Don’t cry.”
“I’m not crying,” Justine told him as she wiped her cheek.
“I have an idea,” Patrick whispered. “If I get out of here, you can do more than come visit me for… you-know-what.”
“What do you mean?” Justine whispered back.
“You don’t like living with your parents, do you?” Patrick asked, his pulse starting to throb desperately. “Who says you have to? Y-you’re not a minor, after all. You could move in with me.”
Justine stared at him.
“You… you shouldn’t make promises like that.”
“Why not? I mean it.”
“What about your brother? What if he doesn’t want me there?”
“I can handle Scott.”
“What about the staff?”
“What about them?”
“You think they’d discharge me to your apartment? No way!”
Patrick laughed nervously.
“You aren’t getting it,” he whispered rapidly, fearing that somebody would intrude on them before he could finish. “You slip away from here and come to me.”
“Escape… into your arms?” Justine grinned. “Yeah…”
“You like the idea?”
She nodded.
“You know what the staff calls it when you skip out while using your privileges?” Patrick asked.
“I think I –”
“They call it… elopement.”