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Hiding the jar under her jacket, she entered the hospital, took the elevator up to Mayflower and walked quickly down the hall to the common room. Jeff was no longer there, but a crowd of nurses and patients were watching the news of the hurricane on TV. She continued down the hall to Jeff's room, where he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He looked pale and forlorn, orphaned even. Adriana realized that was probably how she looked too, but Jeff didn't have visits from his family or anyone else. She felt suddenly ashamed.

Adriana took the jar from her jacket and thrust it toward Jeff. “Here,” she said, with no preamble. Jeff's eyes turned toward her while his body remained where it was. He didn't stretch out his hands. Adriana put the jar on his bedside table. Embarrassed, she mumbled “It's a cricket.”

Jeff slowly sat up on the edge of his bed and took the jar in his hands, turning it slowly to look at the cricket from all angles. It made its creaking sound, and a smile, at first tentative, spread across Jeff's colourless face. “Thanks,” he said in a hoarse whisper. Adriana smiled quickly and left the room.

Later Adriana passed Jeff's room and glimpsed him lying on his bed, still examining the cricket in the jar. Its song seemed to have slowed down, not as insistent as the music of a wild cricket. She wondered if it could become tame in so short a time, or if crickets ever did become tame, or whether it was sad to be taken from its grassy world into this stale, dim, sterile environment. She couldn't help but think the cricket might resent its captivity, missing its mates and adversaries and free access to the dangerous field that was its universe. Animals, caught in a trap, had been known to gnaw off their limbs to escape. Only human beings could imagine that safety was better than freedom.

It struck her that while she was out in the field looking for the cricket, she could have melted away into the woods along the railway track, or in the opposite direction toward the refinery, and no one would have stopped her. But she had been thinking about another person's comfort and well-being instead of her own—Jeff, and his unfathomable fear of the coming storm. Was it a trap, to be thinking of another person's welfare, if it prevented her from making a break toward freedom herself?

Adriana felt exhausted thinking about it. She lay in her hospital bed, splayed out like a starfish at the bottom of a tidal pool. She'd been here a month, gone from a voluntary patient to an involuntary one, from depressed to psychotic. What would happen to her, in the end? She couldn't see her way clear of this place. That was the knot in her stomach that kept her weak. But there was something, an insistent creaking like the voice of a cricket, that called out from the depths of her.

Chapter 25

At supper the nurse offered Adriana a tray of sweet and sour meatballs and rice, and she polished them off, wishing for the first time there were more. It didn't occur to her till after she finished that she had forgotten to wonder whether or not they were poisoned.

There was something else kindling inside her. She felt stronger, somehow. It wasn't anything she had done or any decision she had made, so she figured it must be the medication. Everything was the same, but now she had something holding her upright, a feeling familiar from her past that she was in control, and a sense that somehow, things were okay. She couldn't describe it any better than that.

Marlene was looking sidelong at her from the table by the window, where Redgie was finishing his meatballs. She smiled when Adriana caught her gaze. “You'll be alright, dearie,” she said. “You'll be just fine.” Adriana nodded and looked down—she believed her. And she saw in a flash that all of them here in the hospital were creeping gradually toward health. Adriana stood up, smiling, and put her tray on the counter.

Elspeth who had come by to relieve the other nurse of kitchen duty, beamed. “How was supper?” she asked.

Adriana shrugged. “Good,” she said.

“Want more? Jeff said he's not eating supper tonight.” Adriana thought about it but shook her head no. She wanted to be careful. Meanwhile Redgie thrust his hand in the air, declaring, “I'll have more!” Elspeth let Adriana go with an affectionate tap on the hand.

Adriana wandered down the hall in the direction of her bedroom. Across the hall, she thought she heard Jeff moan in his sleep. She peeked through the open door, hoping he wasn't having a nightmare about the approaching hurricane. The curtain was drawn around his bed.

Adriana fell asleep and dreamed she heard a cricket somewhere in her room. She looked up and down for it but couldn't find it. She tore apart her bed, even ripped open the mattress but it was nowhere to be seen. Adriana stood with mattress stuffing in her hands, wondering what her mother would do when she found her.

She awoke to the sound of a commotion. When she opened her door to peer into the hallway, a nurse motioned to her to close it right away. But before she did, she couldn't help but see the blood, spattered on the hall floor and the door frame of the room across from hers.

She knew it was Jeff. Adriana sat on her bed and shivered. What had he done? She pulled her knees up to her chin and wished herself sightless and mindless, but the smell of blood crept under her door.

The sounds in the hall were calming down, but Adriana didn't attempt to leave her room. She would rather wait until all signs of trauma had been erased, because she was afraid that if she saw Jeff's blood on the floor, she would truly go mad. This place, this terrible place—it was supposed to be somewhere to heal, but it had sucked them all into itself like a vortex.

Adriana knew she had to imagine her way out of here It would be like unravelling something— herself—and knitting the yarn of her into something new. She could do that. She was full of fear, that she somehow belonged to this place—but if it was fear that could carry her forward and out into the world, she would hold on to its fiery mane with all her strength.

After a short while, she heard the cleaning staff come with their mops and buckets to begin to tackle the mess. They were more subdued than usual and clearly did not relish their duties. Adriana imagined the water in the buckets turning pink and the cleaner's uniform spattered red.

When the cleaners left, Adriana opened the door to peek outside. There were two pylons with a plastic sign, that said “Caution–WET” and the floor shone. There was no blood that Adriana could see anywhere. She stepped out into the hall, carefully, and glided silently toward the nursing station.

Elspeth and Jeff's nurse, a short heavy woman with spiky hair, were speaking in low tones. They looked up when Adriana approached them. Elspeth smiled wearily. Adriana asked, in a small voice, “What happened to Jeff?”

Elspeth glanced at Jeff's nurse, who excused herself. Elspeth said, “Let's go have a chat.” Elspeth led Adriana to an interview room, where the cloudy sky let in a light that was almost incandescent. Adriana sat down. She had already lost hope.

But Elspeth began with the good news. “Jeff will be alright,” she said. Adriana felt her cheeks begin to burn. “He hurt himself badly but we found him in time. I'm not supposed to talk about other patients with you but I wanted to reassure you he will be fine.” Adriana's heart beat in her throat.

“Somehow,” Elspeth said, almost to herself, “He got hold of a glass jar.” Adriana stopped breathing. “He smashed it and used it to try to cut himself.” Adriana made a strangled cry. She covered her face with her hands.

Elspeth put a hand on Adriana's shoulder. “It's alright,” she said in a troubled voice. “He'll be fine.” Adriana tried to stifle her sobs and tell Elspeth the truth.

“It was… my fault,” she managed to squeeze out.

Elspeth looked confused. “Why Adriana, of course it wasn't—”

“I gave him the jar,” Adriana wept bitterly. “It had a cricket in it.”

Elspeth sat down on the sofa beside Adriana and put her arm around her shoulders. “Oh no,” she said. “Adriana.” She buried her face in Elspeth's shoulder. “My dear girl,” she murmured, stroking Adriana's hair, plastered to either side of her tear-stained face. Adriana was filled with such regret that she could barely move, except to cover her eyes with her hands. “We tell people not to bring glass into the unit but sometimes we forget. It's quite likely I didn't remember to tell you,” she said, her voice strained.

Adriana looked up. Elspeth's brow was knit together and her mouth was pinched. “No, no, no,” Adriana said softly. “I knew the rule. I just didn't think it mattered.”

“My dear girl,” said Elspeth, stroking Adriana's hair. “You didn't mean any harm. Don't blame yourself.”

Adriana quaked inside, but she had to ask, “Where did they take him?” At least she knew it wasn't to the morgue. Elspeth shook her head. So she had decided to follow the rules. Adriana imagined the ambulance had driven just up the road to the Dartmouth General, that they'd taken Jeff in right away to the emergency department and bandaged him up. “Will he be coming back?” she asked. Elspeth stood up regretfully, opening her hands. She didn't know, or wouldn't tell.

Adriana left the interview room ahead of Elspeth, who headed for the nursing station. Adriana saw that, though the common room was empty, the TV was on, blaring the Weather Channel. She sat down and watched Hurricane Juan's massive footprint make its way up the eastern seaboard. No wonder Jeff was frightened—it was likely the biggest storm he'd had to face in his life. The announcer, a young woman in a burgundy skirt and white blouse who looked barely old enough to be out of school, swept her arm up the Atlantic coast of the United States. “It's going to be a big one,” she said ominously, smiling all the while.

Adriana went back to her room. Samantha was there, and turned her head in greeting, but didn't say a word. She seemed almost blissful, Adriana thought. “How was your date?” she remembered to ask. Samantha rolled on to her side to face Adriana.

“It was brilliant,” she said. “Tony was every bit a gentleman and the choir music was so….” She stretched her 6-foot frame luxuriously. “So… spiritual. We had a good time. Afterwards Tony took me to Tim Hortons.” Adriana's eyes opened wide in surprise. That didn't sound like something Tony would do. There were rules, after all. But then she thought, perhaps as a move to keep the patients off the unit while Jeff was taken to hospital, the chapelgoers had been allowed a small field trip. “And then we went for a drive in his car. A perfect night,” she sighed. Adriana nodded warily. It sounded like wishful thinking to her, but she didn't really know, and didn't want to extinguish Samantha's happiness.

Samantha rolled on to her side. “That poor boy,” she said pityingly. “The one who cut his throat earlier today.” Adriana stiffened. “Have you heard how he is? Redgie told me they took him up the road to the Dartmouth General.”

Adriana shook her head, feeling slightly dizzy. Samantha, her ebullience undampened continued to babble on about her “date,” punctuating her monologue with bursts of giddy laughter. Adriana got into bed and pulled the covers over her, trying to escape. It would be better to counter Samantha's patter with a firm statement, like she was tired and wanted to go to sleep, but she didn't have the wherewithal to utter a sound.

 

Adriana slept through the night, and late into the next morning. She awoke with a start at 10 a.m. Jazz would have gone to the hospital already. She might even be home now. Adriana wanted to call, but felt too weak to get out of bed. She thought of Jazz, lying in a bed similar to the one she occupied, recovering. What did that mean exactly? Recovering from blood loss, from bodily pain, from heart break? She put her hands over her eyes. She didn't want to picture Jazz there at all, but she made herself. Jazz lying in the hospital bed, her lips pale against her bloodless face. Would she be thinking of the future or the past?

Adriana knew Jazz would survive, no matter what she was feeling or thinking. That was the difference between them—Jazz was the unstoppable one, who could push through anything. But would she be strong enough, physically, to stand up and walk back out through the hospital door? Adriana pictured her clutching her abdomen. But she knew Jazz's mouth would be a tight line, and no matter what, Jazz would say to herself, “It's over, I've done my job, now I will go home.”

Adriana hoped Jazz would forgive her for not being with her, but somehow she knew she would, just as she forgave Jazz for not visiting her in the hospital. Their friendship was not something flimsy or disposable. It was as though they had made a pact with one another—Jazz would always be there, ready to nudge her forward, and Adriana would always be ready to believe in Jazz, in a way no one else had. Their lives had veered off course for awhile but they would always eventually, intertwine again.

Chapter 26

Adriana finally got out of bed at lunch time. Samantha had left the room, her bed a mess of rumpled covers. Adriana stood looking at it for a moment. She made a decision, and stepped away from her own bed without making it. She escaped into the hall before she could change her mind.

Adriana went to the kitchen to call Jazz. She sat at the counter, dialed the number. Someone picked up the phone on the other end. “Jazz?” she asked.

Jazz's mother drew a sharp breath. “Adriana,” she said, and Adriana could hear the displeasure in her voice.

Adriana swallowed. “Is Jazz there?” she asked.

Mrs. O'Connell replied, short and sharp, “No, she isn't. She's in the hospital. You should have told me, Adriana,” she said in an accusatory tone.

Adriana gripped the phone. “Is she alright?” she asked.

Exasperated, Mrs. O'Connell said, “No, she's not. But she will be. She's able to have visitors. Dartmouth General. Now if you'll excuse me,” she said and the phone clicked off.

What could have gone wrong? A hundred things, Adriana thought. Perhaps not all of them life-threatening, but enough of them were serious that it was easy to see why Jazz's mother was upset with her. She could have lost her daughter, without even knowing she was in trouble, without knowing that she was going to make the biggest decision of her life. She felt as though all her blood was draining out of her, leaving her even paler and weaker than before, but of course that was her imagination. It was Jazz who had bled, and Jazz who lay in a hospital bed now with her mother's knowledge upon her.