Straightjacket (12 page)

“I suppose,” her mother answered. “But the boy she was sitting with at the time—I don’t want her having anything to do with him. She is here to get well, not fool around with boys.”

Her mother shook her finger violently with every other word.

“I suppose I have to agree with you to some extent,” Dr. Blackwell said.

“But—but Caleb had nothing to do with it! If it weren’t for him, I might be dead.” The intensity of her voice dulled when she saw her mother’s narrowed, angry eyes resting on her.

“Anna, it’s come to my attention that the two of you have become close,” Dr. Blackwell said.

Anna’s mother let out a disgusted moan.

“I’m glad to see that you’ve started reaching out to other patients, but I feel very strongly against starting up any kind of romantic relationship while in treatment.”

“Romantic relationship?” Her opinion of the doctor was taking a nosedive. “What are you talking about? That’s not true—” She stopped at the concerned look on Dr. Blackwell’s face. She was never good at lying, and anyway, he’d already made up his mind. Her mother’s face was burning with rage and horror.

“You listen to the doctor,” her mother scolded. “If he says this Caleb is a bad influence, I don’t want him anywhere near you.” She nudged her husband with her elbow.

“Listen to your mother,” he said, offering Dr. Blackwell an embarrassed smile when he was finished.

“Don’t misunderstand me. Caleb isn’t a bad influence. It’s healthy for Anna to form relationships with other patients, but we just don’t want her developing any
romantic
relationships. Let me explain it this way: In order to be successful in therapy, a patient must be self-aware. A romantic relationship causes all of the patient’s energy to be focused outward, toward the other person, instead of inward, where the work needs to be done. Believe me, I have nothing against Caleb. We just need to make sure Anna stays focused on herself. She’s been making a lot of progress and I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished so far.”

“Yes, we’re very proud of her ourselves,” her mother said.

Anna wanted to punch her.

“Good,” Dr. Blackwell said. “Well, I’ll leave you some time to visit. And please remember that we’re taking very good care of your daughter.”

“Yes, I know.” Her father offered a handshake once again.

The doctor turned to Anna. “We’ll talk more about this during your next session. Sound good?” He would never hear her utter Caleb’s name to him ever again. Nevertheless, she mumbled a yes and he walked out, closing the door behind him.

“I cannot
believe
how you spoke to him!” her mother chided as soon as the door was shut. “Who do you think you are? To embarrass us like that in front of him, as if you know better. No daughter of mine is going to run around with some lunatic boy.”

Her mother kept ranting, but after a while Anna ignored her. She allowed the words to pass through her but didn’t decode their meaning. Her mother only caught her attention when she heard the angry pounding of her heels heading toward the door. She snatched her purse from off the floor and hooked it violently around her shoulder.

“Well I’m not sticking around to be treated like this. Come on, Walter.”

Her father trailed her to the door in silence.

“Aren’t you going to say anything to her before we leave?”

“You remember what your mother said.” And with that, they slammed the door behind them.

Anna wanted to scream. Instead, she punched her pillow. A few of the goose feathers from inside shot out but then floated slowly to the floor.

“I hate them,” she said slowly, over and over again in barely a whisper. 3RF9 Just as clearly as she felt she was falling in love with Caleb, she could feel the purest hatred for her parents flowing. She started to fantasize about not having to see them ever again, hear her mother’s poisonous words poking at her like a hot branding iron. Her mother didn’t love her. She didn’t know how to love anything except the idea of having a perfect daughter who obeyed her every command. Anna had taken that away from her, and now her mother would punish her for it. It would be even worse when she came home.

She started to cry convulsively, her body shaking with anger. The hopelessness was overwhelming. There was no way to escape from them. She might go away to college, but she’d still have to come home for vacations. And anyway, her mother would cast her looming shadow over her even if she were a few hundred miles away. She didn’t even have to be in the same room with Anna to inflict her damage.

She cried for a long time before realizing the pain medication was starting to wear off. Her collarbone began to ache, the sensation growing stronger by the minute. She wiped her eyes with her one hand and went into the bathroom to throw some water on her face. One glance in the mirror proved that her mother was right; the entire half of her face was bruised and swollen. She whipped her head around, not wanting to see it or think about it. When she returned to her bed, she rang the nurse for more pain medication.

“What can I do for you?” the nurse asked when she stepped into the room.

“I’m starting to feel pretty sore. Can I get some more medicine?”

“Sure, hon. Give me a second.” She started to leave.

“Um, wait,” Anna said meekly. The nurse turned to face her. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I wanted to ask about a patient in the psych ward. He was in the same fight as me yesterday. His name is Caleb. Would you be able to tell me what happened to him?”

“I’m sorry, hon,” she said as she tilted her head to one side. “We can’t release information about a patient to anyone besides family. Are you family?”

“Um, no, I’m not.” The corners of her mouth arched downward. The need to cry again would overwhelm her any second.

“Well, I’ll be right back with that medication,” the nurse answered cheerily, and walked out the door.

Chapter Eleven

Over the last twenty-four hours, the red bruises on Caleb’s face had taken on a tinge of black. The swelling around his eye would have gone down if he hadn’t refused the ice pack. Instead, a slight puffiness settled in around his eye socket. He didn’t care. He hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror since yesterday and had ignored his body as much as he could. It was only the pain around his bruised ribs that he couldn’t forget, especially when he coughed or sneezed. Then it was excruciating. But he still refused any medication. He didn’t want anything foreign surging through his system, altering him on any level. For all he knew, they’d slip something into that plastic cup that did more than dull the pain.

He’d spent the entire day in the common area, waiting for Anna. He didn’t know how long she’d spend in the main hospital and there was no one he could ask. Actually, there were plenty of people he could ask, but none of them would offer him any information, so he didn’t bother. Instead he sat in the same chair in the common area, drawing all day long, his eyes darting up toward the doorway each time someone came or left. His mind obsessively ran through everything that happened in the courtyard over and over again, and it always ended the same way—the vision of Anna’s body lying broken on the ground. Every one of his muscles tensed with worry.

A few times he left the common area to walk by her room, but she wasn’t there. The bed was made, with no sign of her having slept in it the night before. One time, Chrissy passed by him in the hallway as he was checking Anna’s room. She flashed Caleb a huge smile and asked in her most irresistible voice if he’d like to join her next door, in her room. Then she flipped her long, thick hair back over her shoulder. Caleb answered her with a blank stare, like her existence hadn’t even registered, and walked back to the common area to see if Anna had come back while he was gone. But when he walked through the doors and looked around, he realized the room was the same as he’d left it. He went back into his corner and carried on with his drawing.

Late in the afternoon, he sat drawing numbly, his hand scribbling something that his mind hadn’t told it to. Drawing had become a way to pass the time, which was something it never had been before. Thinking that he’d only grind his pastels down to stubs for no reason, he dragged himself over to the couch in front of the television. A sleazy talk show was on; he’d caught the part where the audience could vote on whether each guest, all of them dressed like prostitutes, was a man or a woman. The host of the show laughed outrageously every time he offered his microphone to one of his trash-talking audience members. Their hoots and hollers made Caleb even more restless than before. He went back to his chair and carried on with his aimless doodling, letting the pastel in his hand skate over the surface of the paper.

Caleb sat uninterrupted, sketching and daydreaming for hours. He pumped up the volume on his iPod in hopes that nothing around him could find its way inside.

A tap on his shoulder brought him back. He jerked up to see Carlene hunched over him, her chubby hands on her hips.

“Listen here, you stay away from her.” She nodded toward the door.

Caleb yanked his ear buds out and strained to look around Carlene’s body, wincing from the pain in his side. Anna stood at the entrance to the common area, having just walked in.

“Doctor’s orders,” Carlene added. She shook her finger and shuffled away.

Caleb let the pastels that had been balanced on his drawing pad roll off onto the floor. As soon as he saw her bruised face and her arm in the sling, his worry turned to anguish. He stood up, ready to run over to her and scoop her up in spite of the pain in his side, but Carlene heard him move and turned around. She put her hands back on her hips and shifted her weight to one foot, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

“And what did I just tell you?” she yelled. “Sit back down! Don’t you be making any trouble. You leave that girl alone.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he said calmly and slowly, trying to keep his temper under control. “There’s no reason I can’t go over to her.”

“Oh, yes there is.” Carlene cocked her head to one side. “His name is Dr. Blackwell. Now sit down or you’ll end up back in isolation.”

Caleb stood his ground. Something invisible that he couldn’t put into words was pulling him toward Anna, no matter where she was or how much he told himself he needed to resist it. He’d rather be in the same room with her, forbidden to speak, than away from her where the pain would grow so overwhelming that he couldn’t breathe. He slinked back down into his seat.

“Thatta boy.” Carlene rolled her eyes and retreated to the corner of the common area to keep watch.

Anna hadn’t moved from her spot. She tried to smile, but all he noticed was her bruised face and the sling. He couldn’t stand seeing her hurt like that. The urge to keep her safe and near was crushing him, but he sat frozen, just staring. She took a seat across the room and opened a book he hadn’t noticed she’d been holding. It was difficult for her to find her page using one hand, but she managed and began to read. His eyes stayed on her, and every few minutes she’d look up at him.

He picked his pastels up off the floor and sat poised to draw, but didn’t. His muscles tensed and he started to feel hot. He had to cut the anger off, prevent himself from doing anything to provoke Carlene. But the injustice was almost unbearable. Anna sat just a few feet away. Who were these people to keep them apart? He let the pastel he’d been griping in his hand drop. The color had imprinted itself into the creases of his fingers.

A low, painful moaning caught his attention. The source was an older, heavyset woman who had leaned her forehead against the window. Her fingers tried to squeeze through the tiny mesh holes. She started to bang her head rhythmically and the mesh vibrated in response to each dull thump. The swishing of fabric rubbing against fabric announced Carlene’s approach.

“Sweetie, what’s the matter?” Carlene laid her hand on the woman’s back.

The woman responded by banging her head even harder.

“I’m gonna die,” she moaned. “I’m gonna die. I gotta get outta here or the devils are gonna find me.”

“Just calm down.” Carlene tried to pull the woman’s fingers out of the mesh.

“No, no,” the woman moaned again, this time louder. “Just let me get through here. I’m gonna die.”

“Come on now, no one is gonna die.” Carlene bit her lower lip and tried even harder to pull her hands off the mesh.

This time, the woman swung around and started screeching.

“The devils are gonna get me! I gotta get outside! The angels can’t find me in here!” She tried to shake Carlene off and turn back around. Once she managed to get free, she started shaking the mesh violently, trying to pull the entire covering off the window.

Carlene stepped back and swished out of the room, looking for help. “Seven kinds of crazy,” she mumbled to herself.

“Those devils
won’t
get me!” the woman yelped as the sound of metal shaking filled the room. “I’m here! Angels, I’m here!” she screamed.

Anna stared wide-eyed at what was happening. Caleb positioned himself so that he stood between Anna and the woman, cutting off Anna’s view of her. The woman saw him move, and she turned her body to face him.

“You—you can help me, I know you can! You’re an angel, aren’t you? You came for me! Get me out of here, before the devils find me! Please!” She shook her fists wildly as she pleaded with him. He stood perfectly still, ready to act if she moved even an inch in Anna’s direction.

Two of the Bouncers ran into the room, one carrying a syringe. Carlene followed them, panting.

“Okay, settle down,” one of them said. The other got behind her and squeezed her hands behind her back. He drove the syringe hard into her right buttock, like he was poking a piece of meat with a skewer. The woman became even more enraged, fighting the two as viciously as she could.

“Why don’t you help me?” she asked Caleb, her face twisted in confusion. “Take me before it’s too late!”

Caleb backed up toward Anna. Each of the Bouncers grabbed one of the woman’s arms and dragged her across the floor toward the door. She flailed wildly and managed to bite one of the men’s arms.