In the common room that evening, Sandra Joe and I sat on the couch. Marigold, Jerrilyn Veronica, and the descendant of the witches in Hamlet were in the smoking room.
Sandra Joe had asked to braid my hair, again. I let her. I always enjoyed having my hair played with. I wished she could’ve taught my Mom, since she never could get the hang of it.
“Why are you here, Sandra Joe?”
Her hands slowed slightly, then she quipped, “You sound as if you don’t want me here.”
“It’s not that. Well, it is that, because this place isn’t exacting oozing with a lot of help. I mean, Rathbone’s got the IQ of a wombat, but you--you’re just so motherly and normal. What happened?”
“My granddaughter died, killed by an airbag.” She said the words carefully, measured with just the right amount of restraint. More was coming. I could feel it. “It exploded and it…she was such a small little thing, it blew her apart. I was driving.”
I couldn’t imagine such a thing, but her story was only one of so many in the psychiatric ward. Too much more of this and I could write for Lifetime. I reached back and stopped her hands, then shook the braid loose and turned to face her. “What happened?”
‘We were on our way to see her mother. I’d picked her up after school like I did every day. It was such a normal, ordinary day. The birds, the sun, my granddaughter had made an art project at school, everything was normal. Normal.” Her voice grew raspy, and I took her hands, squeezing them to encourage her to go on.
“The brakes went out at an intersection between here and Andrews. They said she died instantly, but…her tiny little body just…so torn up…” Her breath came in gasps and I leaned forward, clasping an arm around her back.
“Shhh.. shh. I’m sure they were right.” Pulling back, I asked, “So they put you in here because they were afraid you’d hurt yourself.”
“Yes,” She nodded, grudgingly, though her ire was not directed at me. “Her mother died a few years ago, and I got custody of my granddaughter.”
“I thought you said you were on your way to see her?” After the words leave my mouth, I want to slap myself. There was only one possible answer.
“We were going to the cemetery.”
Kill me, now. Somebody will have to step up, since I made that pesky self-promise about no more suicide. Talk about insensitive.
“She was buried in the town we raised her in, next to my parents.” Sandra Joe shook her head, “They hauled me in here after the funeral. Some of my family had said I was acting weird, but I just lost a granddaughter and a daughter all over again. Of course I was acting weird.”
My words the morning of her arrival came back to me. ‘What’d you do? Or more importantly, what’d you do it with?’ “Oh, Jesus Christ, Sandra Joe. I’m so sorry. The morning you got here, what I said-“
“You didn’t know. How could you? And in any case, you girls have helped me deal with this. I don’t think I would have hurt myself, but I’m glad I’m here.”
Before I could stop myself, I asked, incredulous, “For the love of God, why?”
“Well, you, for exactly that.’ She smiled, and though there were tears in her eyes, they shone with an inner positivity, an inner radiance. My lord, this woman is sadistic.
“O-k.” I said slowly.
“Jerrilyn, she’s such a sweet person. She’s always defending people and trying to comfort them. She does it so much she forgets how to do it for herself. Veronica, with so much beauty to spare for others. Did you know she taught me how to do my eyebrows this morning?” Well, that would explain the surprised look she’d had since beginning this conversation. “But she can’t see any of it in herself. And Marigold, she spent so many years trying to be in control she finally lost it. I’ve been here such a short time, yet I feel like I’m closer to y’all than I am many others whom I’ve known for years.”
This place does that to you. It creates a weird bond between similar misfits. Some of us, anyways.
“I think I know what you mean.”
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