Admissions (18 page)

Chapter 35

H
ow was your leave, Beth?” Dr. Murray asks.

“A whole month. We missed you.” I really did miss Beth. And I’m happy for her—she got a home leave and will probably be discharged soon.

“It …I …discouraging.”

“How? Don’t your parents own a big house on the lake?” Heidi always seems surprised at Beth’s unhappiness.

“Home for the entire month of July. As soon as I got there, they suggested I play the piano, wondered if I would like to invite some friends up, watched every mouthful of food I ate. Unbelievable—they actually expected me to get into a swimsuit and participate in their pretentious summer rituals. Don’t they know everyone thinks I’m a freak?”

“I’m sorry to hear it was so difficult for you, Beth,” Dr. Murray says.

“I just wanted to stay in my room. But the first morning, my father cracked the door of my bedroom.
Why don’t you come out on the dock, sweetheart? For goodness sake, open a window up here, it’s stifling.
I’m freezing to death, even with a fisherman’s sweater, sweatpants and wool socks.
We’re all out on the boat. Come down, sweetie.
Thank God he left. I sat in my chair in front of the curved glass and watched them. Even with a wool afghan over my lap, I’m shivering. My fingertips are blue.

“I observed the show from my box seat. My parents entertained several couples on their cabin cruiser anchored near the dock. All the players wore beachwear, their bodies like burnt toast. The women wore large-brimmed hats, sipped drinks from tall glasses filled with crushed ice. Clones of my mother, they lined up across the bow on chaise lounges. The men stood at the stern, drinks in hand, watching the boats pass by, making comments about the women in swimsuits.”

“Why were you so cold?” Isabel says. “Didn’t you say you gained a little weight?”

“The weight started dropping off as soon as I got home. I tried to hide out in my room, but I walked a thin line with my parents. I watched my dad walk down the path, wearing his ridiculous captain’s hat. When he reached the end of the dock, my mother looked up and mouths something. He shook his head.

“Later I strolled down the path, waved to them. They both smiled and waved, then their friends smiled and waved. A couple of women motioned me toward the dock. I flashed a smile, shook my head, sat down on an Adirondack under the maples. So, I was out of the house at least. That should’ve pleased them.”

Dr. Murray folds her arms. “Beth, as I’ve said to you before, you are a master magician, adept at hiding inside yourself. It sounds like you were teetering on the brink of discovery.”

Beth runs her hand over her downy cheek. “Yes. How long could I hide Jo-Jo the Dog-faced Boy under my sweater? I’m covered with fur on my back and stomach. I shave my legs, but shorts are out of the question. My legs are thin, very thin.”

“Fur?” Autumn asks.

“Yes. It’s a soft downy fur, quite thick, actually.”

“It’s called lanugo, the body’s reaction to starvation, Autumn.”

“Jeez.”

“The last straw was later that night at a family cookout. My mother hits me with the big surprise.
Honey, guess what? I ran into Wendy Beal and Lisa Stoppert, and they’d love to see you. I invited them to spend your birthday weekend with us.
I can’t believe it. They’re not even at Interlochen anymore. I know she called them.

“
I …I’m …I guess ran into them is the wrong way to say it. I talked to them on the phone and …
She talks a mile a minute. I ask her point blank if she called them.

“
Well, yes …Your friends are still here, sweetheart, they want to see you. I …I just wish you’d give it a try.

“I totally lose it. I stumble, fall onto the lawn, roll back and forth, retching with dry heaves. I’m like a maniac.”

“I don’t get it. Wasn’t your mother trying to help you?” Estee says.

“Are you kidding? Oh my god …my friends …see me looking like …like some kind of ghoul …carnival freak …lunatic. I had to stop her.”

“Okay, try to calm down, Beth. Take a couple of breaths.”

“I yell,
Take it back. Take it back. Call them back right now. Please, Mother. Call them. Say you’ll call them …
It’s kind of a blur, but I crawl across the grass and grab my mother by the ankle.
CALL THEM! Please …please …call them and tell them not to come. Daddy?
I’m desperate.

“My father is tending the shish kebobs. He just stares at me, tongs frozen in his hand. He comes over and rubs my back and assures me nobody will come. It’s a close call.” Beth leans back in her chair, her hands shaking, her thin hair wet with perspiration.

“Did this incident affect your eating?”

“Not really. To tell you the truth, I stopped eating.”

“I thought you said your parents were watching you,” I say.

“Well, it’s not that hard. As usual, I shove the food around on my plate trying to create empty spaces, the appearance of a meal in the process of being eaten. I nibble on a mushroom, and when my parents are engaged in conversation, I slide a chunk of steak from my plate and put it in my pocket. I always have my pockets lined with waxed paper just for that purpose. Later, as they watch the neighbors waving from their boat, I snatch another piece of steak. Toward the end of the meal, I manage to add the third cube to my pocket. My father always overcooks the meat, so there isn’t much grease to stain my clothes.”

I’ve never heard Beth talk so frankly about how deceptive she can be. Maybe she won’t be leaving the hospital after all.

Chapter 36

THE OBSERVER
            
July 28, 1969

Page 3

HOSPITAL TAKES TOP PRIZE

Winner of the grand prize for the best float in the Cherry Festival Cherry Royale Parade is the Traverse City State Hospital! Photo by Jerry Wade.

Page 6

WHITE COATS IN COMPETITION FOR THE CITY TITLE

Our men’s softball team, the White Coats, have stolen another victory. They defeated the Bay Beachbums by two runs in extra innings. They are now tied with the Beulah Bombers for first place. Thanks everyone for turning out to support your team. See you at the tournaments!

Page 9

MORE FUN THAN A BARREL OF MONKEYS

The hospital community has been busy, busy, busy this summer. We had two great concerts at the bandstand, The Liberators, and Time Travelers. Marching bands played continuously on the front lawn of Building 50 during the Cherry Festival, and we have lots of opportunities for outings and field trips: Platte River Fish Hatchery, Sleeping Bear Dunes, Old Mission Point Lighthouse, and the hospital park. Our patients are the luckiest ducks in the north!

I’m riding shotgun with Carl on an outing to Old Mission Peninsula. He reaches from the driver’s seat, pulls the handle. The folding door to the bus squeals open as Dr. Murray hoists herself up the steps, sits in the first seat behind him. As Carl explains it, excursions outside the hospital are perks designed to keep the patients socialized and, more importantly, to demonstrate to the community that patients are
just plain folks
, like them. Staff members take turns volunteering as chaperones.

Carl exchanges greetings with Dr. Murray, chats about the trip. The doctor pauses several times to warn patients to quiet down. The winding road bumps up against the beach of East Grand Traverse Bay, and ends at a small clearing where the hospital set up picnic tables with access to the water, away from the summer tourist spots. Dr. Murray sways down the aisle to check on a distressed patient. Jostled by the bumpy road, she staggers back alternating her hands on the backs of the seats to steady herself.

She sits at the edge of her seat, leans forward. I hear her say, “Carl, have you heard any rumors about a patient named Marge who was assaulted in the old Soap House?”

“She was in Judy’s ward. Got pregnant two years ago.”

“Is that right?”

“She had a couple stillbirths in the past, the way I understand it. There’s a lot of that in the women’s wards. This time, though, the baby lived …sent to the children’s asylum, like the others.”

Dr. Murray looks over at me as she leans forward again. “Carl, do you know who the father is? Who might have been having sex with Marge?”

I pretend to be sightseeing. I lean my chin in my hand and look out the side window.

“Way I hear it, a lot of guys.” He pauses for awhile. Then he says, “But I know for sure Joe Doremire ‘cuz he told me.”

“Joe Doremire? Spelled like it sounds? I would like to turn his name in to supervision, Carl. I won’t say who told me.”

“Okay by me. Just isn’t right. What’s it matter now. Judy’s gone.”

“What did you say, Carl?”

“Nothin’.”

Group meets the next day. With all the leaves and home visits, the group hasn’t been complete all summer. But it will be today, everybody but Beth.

“Hello.” Dr. Murray takes her spot in the circle.

“Having a good summer, Doc?”

“Pretty good, yes, Isabel.”

We do our usual dance, squirming around a bit in our seats, looking down. Estee is asleep, her chin rests on her chest.

“Estee, are you with us?” Dr. Murray asks. “Estee?” She reaches over, shakes her knee.

“Huh?” Estee snaps her head up.

“Just want to make sure you’re awake. I have something I want to say.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m here.”

“There is no easy way to tell you this. I have some very bad news.” Dr Murray’s voice is husky with emotion. “I received word at team meeting yesterday that Beth died.”

Chapter 37

M
y feet squish inside my sandals as I make my way along the walkway by the reflecting pool, past the abandoned shuffleboard court, grass and weeds crack the concrete. It seems at least ten degrees cooler on the front lawn of Building 50. I think about all the patients who have walked under these same oaks in the last eighty-some years.

As I come up to Building 50, I step back inside the pages of my favorite childhood book,
Nancy Drew and the Message in the Haunted Mansion
—Nancy locked in the tower of an imposing stone castle, with vines and moss covering the thick walls. I shudder at how real it seems now.

As a kid I was an ace detective, carrying my sister’s old black leather shoulder-strap purse with the metal medallion on the front. It held all my sleuthing equipment: pad of paper, pencil, ink pad and rubber-letter stamp for messages, an old compass I found in the garage, and the white stretchy Easter gloves I wore when investigating a crime. My private office was the front coat closet, between the first and second rows of coats. The sign pinned to Dad’s hunting jacket said:
Nancy Drew is __IN___.
Two paper squares, IN or OUT could be thumbtacked to the sign to indicate my presence at headquarters.

My mind wanders back inside Hall 5. I don’t have a clue what will become of the women locked away in the disturbed wards. Who will save them? My heart skips several beats. I can’t stay there long, in Hall 5. I’ve already filed it away in some back file cabinet in my mind. But I can’t forget the patients hidden behind the brick walls and barred windows. No matter how many hall parties are given, dances and concerts planned, field trips taken, nothing will change for the chronics. It’s like treating terminal cancer with a Band-Aid. They will die here.

I check my watch. It takes me about forty-five minutes to walk from Murdock’s if I keep an even pace. This afternoon I reopened briefly to slice a piece of nut fudge for a little kid who pressed his face against the locked door. He had big blue eyes, just like Alexander.

I miss dinner, get back to Hall 9 by my six-thirty curfew. I change my clothes and head out to the west porch for a smoke with my friends, a predictable and welcome end to my work day. Summer evenings in Michigan are sticky, but a breeze off the bay helps. Moves the heat around, keeps the air circulating on the porches. The west porch is jam-packed. Autumn has wrestled off several women to save me a seat.

“Hi, gals. Nice night, huh?” I stretch out my legs and hold up my cigarette.

“It’s a hot one,” Heidi says.

“I’m leaving here in three weeks, and I gotta’ tell ya’, I’m going to miss you gals,” Isabel says.

“Too many things changing,” Estee says. “Autumn and I will probably be rattling around in 50 until they close it. Sometime before winter, I guess. They won’t want to heat it past fall.”

“Hear anything about your transfer to a semi-open cottage?” Autumn asks.

“Still on the waiting list,” Heidi answers. “You hear yet, Lu?”

“No, as far as I know, we’re both still on the list. It takes forever for these transfers.”

“Hall 9 will be lonely with Isabel and Beth gone and you and Heidi in a cottage,” Autumn says.

“We’ll still see each other.” Heidi nudges Autumn’s shoulder with the flat of her hand.

“Yeah, the place is a regular social club,” Isabel says.

“
Observer
says there’s a rock and roll concert tonight at the Bandstand.”

“The Who?” Heidi grins.

“Some local high school group,
The Blue Boys
. I’m going,” Autumn ashes her cigarette.

“I’ll go. Might be fun,” I say.

“Count me in.” Isabel leans back in her chair.

“How’s the job?” Heidi asks me.

“Good. It took me a couple weeks, but now I feel like I know what I’m doing. Your program going okay?”

“Yeah. Once I get out of the Daily Living Program, Dr. Murray says I can apply for the Sheltered Workshop.”

“I’m Carl Reinbold’s helper on garden crew.”

“You get paid for that?”

“Nah, I enjoy it. Carl reminds me of my dad.”

“Yeah?”

“You know, I can’t stop thinking about Beth,” Autumn says. “Anybody heard anything?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t think we’re ever going to know what happened. Dr. Murray says Beth’s parents won’t return her phone calls. She wants to go to the funeral, if there is one, but she can’t find out when it is,” Isabel says.

“Nothing in the Traverse City Record Eagle either. Her being such a big star at Interlochen, doesn’t make sense.”