Chapter Four
The next morning a woman joined us. Actually, we joined her. She’d been in the common room since four in the morning when she was brought in, ditzed out of her gourd. When we came in, she exploded into conversation, "I was up all night on speed, so they let me stay up and clean. That’s what I do. Clean. There are worse problems to have while you’re high, you know." She looked bluntly at Veronica, daring her to confess drug-doused sex scandals and black market baby peddling.
Veronica snorted and took her seat at the table.
"I’m Marigold," the new woman said, rounding on the one woman circus known as Me. "I don’t answer to Mari, so don’t try."
Like I’d care enough to call her by a nickname… one she approved of, anyways. I raised an eyebrow at her and let my gaze drift from her head to her feet. I wasn’t impressed. Shrugging, I shook my head and took my place next to Veronica.
Ike came in. I let out a slow whistle and it brought a fresh blush to his cheeks. His silver hair bounced and shined as he ambled over to the table and took a seat by my side. Guess I adopted a septuagenarian. I hoped I wouldn’t have to water and feed him. I’m really not good at that sort of thing.
Marigold hardly noticed, intent on telling us how rich she was, and how many trips she had been on as she meticulously scrubbed the twenty-two inch screen of the television. She tried desperately to demonstrate she was better than we, but being in a psych ward with us ruffians it didn’t succeed very well.
With nauseating bravado she laid her world flat on the table for our inspection. Being a mother and how much she adored being pregnant, what her kids were up to now and how she had to take speed just to keep up with them. But it was all a defensive strategy. She was trying to disarm us in advance. By listing her weakness herself, we could not blind side her with a comment she was not ready to hear. I wondered what she was really hiding to feel she had to pre-empt any attack on our part. Mari, I thought, I’ll write out a fifteen page truce for the duration of our time together if you would just shut the fuck up.
Breakfast arrived.
I damn near stood up and cheered, thankful Marigold had a reason to put her mouth to another use.
Once the smell of the food hit my nose, my stomach spun like pottery and just as heavy. I weighed the rubbery eggs, bland bacon, and large crouton they had the mad audacity to call toast along with constipation as a side effect. It just wasn't worth it. Sighing, I shoved the plate away.
"So, why are you here?", an unwelcome voice demanded.
"Oh, I’m sorry. Is this group time?" I answered, annoyed.
Marigolds’ face darkened, "I told you why I was here."
"Yep, ya did. But it’s mostly bullshit, so I figure that little confession doesn’t warrant an exchange. I’ll let you know when I’m ready to 'share'." I turned my head back towards Jerrilyn and Veronica. Veronica was smirking and Jerrilyn was silently shaking with laughter, egg skewered on the end of her plastic fork. Maria Rosa chuckled.
"So, when do we go outside?"
"When Bulk Hogan gets off his ass and decides to take us out." I told her.
"When Bulk Hogan gets off his ass and decides to take us out." I told her.
"Now, Brittni, that’s not true, you silly woman. The outside schedule is 1:00 in the afternoon, Marigold. Every day." Debra’s troll powers had suddenly materialized her in the doorway. She must have been listening just outside of the door, because I hadn’t heard the telltale sound of nylon-encased thighs upon her approach. We should really fit her with a bell, I thought. The idea of her listening outside of the hall was just, well, creepy.
"Yeah, right, Debra. Yesterday we didn’t go out until three." Veronica said.
"Veronica, if you start acting belligerent we’ll be forced to send you to the closest psychiatric institution. I really don’t want to do that, so please don’t raise your voice at me." Debra told her loudly and crossed the room to the window to adjust the blinds and curtains.
I furrowed my brow, my upper lip twitching in a slight snarl. Um, yeah, I do do the snarl, like Elvis or Ice Cube, only my version is not sexy. I just look constipated, but it would’ve confused you if I wrote, ‘I furrowed my brow, my upper lip curled in a look of constipation…’ I’m working on it. That’s all you need to know. Back to Debra being a bitch.
Veronica had not raised her voice. Beside me, she simply glowered at the Debra, looking like she wanted to argue but couldn’t.
"Debra, what’s the deal?" Marigold asked, her ego on hold while she displayed a little humanity. Well, whoop dee fucking do, she deserves a sticker.
"Mrs. Ybanez, this does not concern you," was the only response from the Stirrup Troll. Never once looking at any of the patients, she fussed over the curtains for a few more minutes before swishing out of the room in day-glo, lizard printed stirrup pants, presumably to attack Tokyo.
Veronica’s lower lip threatened to return the stale bread to its natural state with soon-to-be flooding tears. I shot at look at Marigold, afraid she would say something smart assed, but she met my eyes with an expression of understanding. Truce, for now.
A spider like fluttering on my arm snapped my attention away for a moment, thrusting me into insect assassin mode. Instead, I met Ike’s eyes. Dangling from his liver-spotted hands was my bandana, clean and still cool from drying. He nodded over in Veronica’s direction and shook the bandana for me to take it. I tugged it free and squeezed his thumb. Twisting back around, I gave it to Veronica to wipe her eyes.
"Fuck her." Marigold said. "Don’t let that shit get to you."
Veronica’s shoulders began to shake. Small at first, an inner rumbling, the shaking grew and spread along her form like fractures along a quake line. As her shoulders convulsed, her hands trembled, her knees shook, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She refused to meet our eyes as she wiped her face. Creamy make-up yielded to the square cloth, revealing a mottled red cheek.
"That’s why she does it. Es que, she know Veronica is bi-polar and, como se dice? Paranoia, tambien." Maria Rosa, her voice normally so soothing, had a tone to her words which surprised me—disgust. She rose from her seat and walked over to rub Veronica’s shoulders. Her gaze strayed to the door, as though worried Debra would come back for a second helping.
"She’s a bi-polar paranoid schizophrenic." Jerrilyn said, glancing at Marigold and I.
"Gesundheit." I said, dryly. Did I mention I suck in awkward moments? Well, now you know.
The corners of Jerrilyn’s mouth lifted slightly in a partial smile, though it was simply to indulge me. My heart grew three sizes—actually, no, it didn’t, but I did feel closer to her for ignoring my ineptitude in such moments.
Jerrilyn stroked Veronica’s neck. "Debra knows it, and she needles her. Nothing big, just enough to make her cry, make her paranoid, make her like this."
The words sank in, and an anger swiftly stoked itself within me. What type of person would even do that?
Jerrilyn withdrew her hand and put her finger to her lips, delicately nibbling on the tips. I wondered why I hadn’t noticed that before, and reached out to extricate her mangled finger. She had chewed the top layer of skin off of her index finger. She shot me a thankful glance, and began gnawing on her fingernail, instead. Well, at least she wouldn't strike bone, soon.
Marigold dropped into a chair like a ton of bricks, all of the fight and sass in her forgotten. There seemed nothing to say, no words that could find the moment and warm it.
Silence dripped into the room in surprising puddles, amplifying Veronica’s ragged breathing, Maria Rosa’s humming, Jerrilyn’s fingernail chewing, Marigold’s agitated knee-bouncing, Ike’s stillness, and my speechlessness.
A hiccup-burp combo broke the air and Veronica looked up, embarrassed. I smiled. Marigold smirked. Ike chuckled to himself. Jerrilyn stopped shredding her nails. Maria Rosa patted Veronica on the back, and we got back to our breakfast.
No comments:
Post a Comment