Suicide Kills, part 5

     Chapter Five

"It’s time for group.  Bring your notebook, and we’ll talk it all out in the teaching room."

I didn’t even care to see whom the voice belonged to, preferring to lay on my side farting around in my notebook.  The last thing I wanted to do was enjoy some arts and crafts with crazy people.  Dahmer probably did crafts in psychiatric units, too.  We know how much it helped him. 

But what if I can’t leave without attending?

I sat up in my bed and sighed.  If they got out glue and construction paper, pipe-cleaners, or any form of chunky glitter, I was leaving. 

A few minutes later I padded down the hall to the room, yellow $1.99 notepad handy, and thoroughly determined not to scruff it up with I feel unhappy because…  Inside, three waiting pairs of eyes swiveled to check out the latest sap. Okay, ya got me. So, it was not mandatory.  What the hell, I’m here. How long could this be?

I took a seat next to Ike and Maria Rosa, with Marigold across from me. Her pen acrobatics began to shift into warp speed and I considered one single acrobatic stunt of my own, but decided against it. The clock on the wall read 10:00 AM.

Fifteen minutes later, we were still by ourselves. I had confiscated Marigold’s pen; she was holding my notepad hostage.  Ike had slipped into peaceful, though not for us, snoring. Maria Rosa was fiddling with something at the edge of the table.

Finally, curiosity got the best of me. "What are you working on?"

"I’m making something for my daughter. It’s got Eliseo’s name in it." Her brow crinkled as she concentrated on the t-shirt. I squinted to make out the letters. A-L-W-A-Y-S E-L-I-S totaled her current progress.

A tear so tiny I almost didn’t notice it left a dotted line across the second A. I touched her hand.

"Estoy bien." She snapped, then raised her head. Her voice softened, "I’m fine, mi hija. Just fine."

"How…" Marigold’s question trailed off, showing a refreshing uncertainty that made me feel closer to her.  Awesome. Now, I need another shower.   

She tapped her manicured thumb-nail on my notepad and started again, "How did he…?"

"Drogas."

Marigold’s eyes flickered towards me waiting for a translation. Nope, the bonding moment passed.  Must‘ve been gas from the breakfast I didn‘t eat.

"Drugs, Mari." I told her. The woman had married a Hispanic man, been together for two decades, and did not speak a word of Spanish.  Oh yeah, and she lived in Texas.  Egotistical bitch.

She narrowed her eyes at me, tempted, no doubt, to make some venomous remark upon hearing me call her Mari.  I gave her a dazzling smile -- I shit you not, she could’ve tanned by it and saved at least a few grand a year -- and returned my attention to Maria Rosa.

"He took too many.  I tell him, ‘Eliseo, you canno’ do this. Is bad for you.’ But he would no’ listen to me. He did anyway, and it kill him. His mother-she my daughter-she find him dead in his car day before his birthday."  Maria Rosa rubbed her nose and fingered the lettering on the shirt, as if the small symbols would somehow transfer the touch to her lost grandson.

"What else happened, Maria?" I asked, knowing there was more she wasn’t saying. I didn’t want to push her, but I knew she needed to say it.

Watery, yellow-aged eyes found mine, "I raised him. We…we raise him together as our son. When my…When my," her eyebrows cinched together, gaze straying to the floor as though the word she searched for was hidden there, "When my husband died last year, my daughter came back to stay.  I tell her if she didn’t, I would not send her money.  Pero, it was a mistake!  She come back, pero she refused to tell him she his mother!  She went out, she…party with his friends. When I finally told him, he was angry. He confronted her, and Olivia” the more upset she became, the thicker her accent grew and the more stilted her grammar, “ tell him she not care. He was just stupid kid, mess up her life. The next day she find him, and it my fault he do this. He to go ASU this year." 

"Maria, it wasn’t your fault, though. It was that bitch of a mother’s fault." I told her, not much at comforting but, hell, I was trying.

"That bitch of a daughter, t’ambien." She sniffled.

"Some people, it doesn’t matter how they are raised, they’re screw-ups! They’ll never do things right, because…’cuz that’s how they are. They’re selfish. You weren’t selfish, but your daughter was. She left her son, then she kicked him when he was down. He couldn’t handle it, so he tried to block out the pain. He was a good kid, but he couldn’t deal. It doesn’t mean you were a bad mother." I darted a warning glance at Marigold, but she spun in her seat, staring out of the window.  

Something struck home. To be continued, obviously.  I noted her reaction, and returned my attention to Maria.

"It doesn’t mean I was a good one." She argued, finally looking at me.

"That’s exactly what it means." The male voice slipped so smoothly into the conversation it took all of us by surprise. "You can be vigilant, churchgoing and raise four children, three of which turn out wonderfully, and one which manages to be a fuckup. I did. What you did, Maria…You did right by your kids, but some things are just beyond our control as parents. It doesn't mean you didn't love him or that he did not love you, and his death was...not...your...fault."

Startled to have our attention, Ike removed all but his hands from the table and sunk back into silence. Somehow, this faded little old man had done what I’d been trying to, the slippery little sucker.  I wonder if he gives lessons?

Maria Rosa calmed, focused on caressing the lettering on the shirt.  It wasn’t for her daughter, it was for her. The guilt, the shirt, it was hers.

And I thought I knew why.  "Are you going home, today?"

Fear raced across her face and her gaze sprung up in my direction, "I...yes. The Doctor says he’ll release me tonight. I’m not sure I’m ready to go."

"Maria, that’s great news! You should be happy, I know I’d be happy to get out of this hellhole." Marigold said, spinning back around in her chair.

I shot her a withering look. She had been here a few hours and rendered a verdict on the entire place, patients included. Maria Rosa, on the other hand, had an empty house to go home to, one full of memories cast with people who were no longer there. That’s what she was afraid of most.

I could have smacked Marigold with my notepad right across her smug face, but she was still holding it hostage. I settled for slinging the pen at her.  It skittered across the table and disappeared over the edge.

Giving me a dirty look, she said to Maria Rosa, "You should be packing, right now. I don’t even know why you’re in this session. It’s not like you needed to come."

I shoved the table a few inches toward her, "Shut up, you crackhead."

Marigold erupted out of the chair, fists clenched. I almost expected her to stomp her angry wittle tootsies. "Leave me the fuck alone, you hormonal fucking slut. She gets to go home today and we‘re all stuck here. She should be happy, not crying."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but crackheads will never hurt me." I said, scathingly. "I’ve got an idea. Let’s talk about your sons, Mari. They’re teenagers now, right? Can’t stand their druggie mother who hits on all their friends when she’s high? Despite all that, they’re good kids, and you have no god damn idea how you managed that when you don’t even remember what their first words were, do you? And Dad’s too busy with his hot new little flavor of the week to give a shit, isn’t he? Want me to go on?"

Her eyes widened to the point the orbs seemed ready to pop from the sockets. Face red, she took a step forward and slapped her palms on the table, shrieking, "Don’t you ever fucking talk about my family again, you cruel little bitch. You understand me?"

I tilted my head to the side, waiting for her to run from the room a basket case of blubbering tears.

Marigold grabbed the edge of the table, lifted it sharply, and let it fall, the legs hitting the floor crisply. Satisfied with her completely useless act, she stomped across the room and out the door, slamming it to make her grand exit.

I looked back at Maria and knelt in front of her, "We have phone privileges at night, remember? When you get home, if it’s too much, just get out of the house for a little while. Go to the mall or the river walk, okay? We’ll call you tonight when they let us use the phones. It’s a good thing you’re going home, Maria. A good thing, okay?"

She wouldn’t meet my eyes, but she gave a slight nod. I was worried for her, but what could I do?
                "Britty, you need to leave that woman alone. She’s hurting. We are all hurting in here. Try to be nice, okay, por favor?" She asked, finally looking at me. It's funny how self-conscious she was about being addressed for her own pain, but another's pain she was ever-vigilant about.

I popped my neck slowly as if the very idea was enough to stress me out.  Let’s just be honest, here.  Being cordial to Marigold was a stressful concept, but for Maria Rosa?  Anything. "Okay. I’ll…try, " I promised. "Now, let’s get out of here and go have a smoke. Dr. Batshit isn’t coming, apparently."

"It’s not him who does these. It’s another lady." Maria Rosa told me, gathering up her things.

"Eh, well, whoever. They aren’t here, so let’s get."

With a heavy sigh, Ike pulled himself to his feet and walked around the table, bending down to pick something up. Oh. The pen and the notebook.

I smiled sheepishly at him, taking both. "Thanks, Ike."

"No problem, sweetheart."

The day passed slowly, though I know for Maria Rosa it seemed to speed by. She kept saying how she didn’t want to leave us, and I did not blame her. She’d found a system with us that worked for her, however dysfunctional. Every hour or so, her eyes misted over and she would grow quiet, nodding and smiling sadly.

                 I was worried, but it wasn‘t like I could bust out with the power of…what, big boobs? Even if I could, there would need to be a man to work that magic on, and I had my doubts about how much breasts appealed to Aaron. I thought about Ike for a second, but decided he probably was not Aaron’s type, either.

                 Dr. Rathbone still had not shown up for his rounds when it came time to release her. One of the stipulations for release was someone had to pick you up and Dr. Rathbone had to meet with you. For Maria Rosa, the only person who could come was her neighbor. One glance at the woman told me she was not somebody Maria Rosa could lean on. She appeared bored and ready to leave at the same time, rather an amazing feat if you think about it.

                 Debra explained the checkout procedures to her at the nurses station. I watched from my door for a few minutes, then headed down to the dining room.

On the couch, Veronica was fixing Maria Rosa’s hair and makeup. Jerrilyn was writing down her contact information at a table. Ike sat in an easy chair next to the couch, saying nothing, but his presence spoke volumes. He never came in the dining room at night. He was just full of firsts, today.

Marigold stood by the barred window, staring down into the street. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was so still I wondered how long she had been there. Perhaps I had been too hard on her, but saying sorry? I think I’d rather have taken my chances hitting on Aaron.

"Brittni, come write down your information here for Maria." Jerrilyn called, waving me over.

"Sure. Did you give Jerrilyn your information, t’ambien?" I asked Maria, passing behind the couch to the table.

"Yeah, I wro-"

"Shh." Veronica scolded. In her hand was lip liner, and she wrinkled her nose at me for causing her to mess up Maria Rosa’s lips.

I rolled my eyes and dropped into a chair beside Jerrilyn. On the paper were phone numbers from Veronica, Jerrilyn, and Ike. I took the pen and wrote my name under the others.

"You think she’ll be okay?" Jerrilyn whispered, her finger ascending to her mouth. I intercepted it and squeezed her hand.

"I don’t know. It’s up to her, I guess. You have her number?"

"Mmhmm."

"I’ll call her tonight during my phone time."

Her finger began to raise again, "What about tomorrow, though? We can only have phone time in the evening."

"She’ll figure it out, Jerrilyn." I promised, and lightly slapped her hand away from her mouth. For a second she appeared nonplussed, then blushed and tucked her hands under her legs.

At that moment, Maria Rosa’s neighbor came in with The Debra, ready to leave.

Veronica ignored both of them, taking genuine pride in the makeover. She was a cosmetologist by trade, but this was a side of her I had not seen. It was the first time she had shown pride or even deliberately went against the grain, and it was obvious she wanted more time to finish what she was doing. I rose to intercept the women at the door, but someone beat me to it.

Marigold.

God damn it. Fuck, now I know she’s actually got feelings.

She shot me a glance, having seen me rise. Before I could help myself, something passed between us, some form of understanding. Her eyebrow lifted and the corner of her mouth twitched, obviously as surprised as I was. She returned her attention to the two women, distracting them long enough to let Veronica finish what she was doing. Well, that's just fuckin' peachy. I guess I have to like her, now.

A soft snoring filled the room. Jerrilyn and I grinned at each other, and headed to wake up Ike. Being here, even asleep, was his way of showing support, and he did not want to miss Maria Rosa leaving.

At my touch, he awoke with a loud and very piggish snort, which made Jerrilyn and I giggle. Oblivious, he patted my hand, shook himself, and got to his feet to see Veronica’s handiwork. Ike's smile as he saw Maria Rosa said it all.

Maria Rosa, who had up until that point been humoring Veronica, beamed under his attention. Crazy how the smallest things can have the most meaning.

Veronica finished and began putting her makeup containers up. The air in the room seemed to thicken slightly. The time for goodbyes had come.