Misery’s Company
I had to write a fictional short story for my English class, and I learned something: It’s only fiction if you tell someone it is. The piece I lay before you is not fiction at all. Maybe, about 10 percent of it is. (I got an A!) Hopefully you will enjoy.
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Misery’s Company
It wasn’t the first time, nor did she think it would be the last time, she’d be escorted behind doors she would not be able to unlock. She wanted nothing of this place she accused of having a Jewish high class aura; whiffs of pretentious entitlement skewed with streams of taboo and stigma. These people were going through the same problems as her, despite her denial of this fact.
“I need your arm, hun” a soft English voice said nearby.
This voice shuffled gently towards the wheelchair, bringing with her a shower of pity dripping off of her face and onto the floor for everyone to slip on. Apparently she felt it would ease the tensions of her new patient if she showed how sorry she was, even if she hadn’t know what she were sorry for. No one could deny that she was usually right to assume such an emotion, even if it were fake.
An arm was raised from the wheelchair’s side to be met by another’s palm and tactical glance. A wrist became wrapped by a plastic band and and directed into the fluorescent lighting that seemed to shine a tint of blue.
“Anna, is it?” the woman asked.
The wheelchair nudged and squeaked in response, but a voice did not come from it.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Anna. My name is Estelle and I’ll be your one-to-one for the next few days. Have you ever had a one-to-one before?”
The wheelchair nudged and squeaked again.
“Well then, I don’t have to explain my job to you. We’ll be spending a lot of time together. I assume then you understand why I’m here, but with good behavior you won’t need me for very long.”
Anna rolled her head around in defeat, staring blankly into the portable equipment bays, trying desperately not to make eye contact with anyone, especially not with her new nurse. It was the only thing keeping her from flooding her own face with tears she could never understand. Anna not-so-politely tuned out Estelle’s small talk, opting instead to focus and unfocus her eyes upon the green led numbers blinking on the equipment bays besides her. This was the routine. An “ah” allowed a thermometer respite beneath her tongue while tight Velcro straps cut off what little blood she felt she had left in her arms. A few seconds in, she would be able to feel her heart beat, just as deep and clear as those moments she found herself outside of herself, not in control of what her limbs decided to do, rationality no where to be found. Those trances are what got her here, she knows. She also knows that her quickest ticket out of there was standing right besides her, a fellow colored girl, likely also questioned often about her own level of coloredness, thus she thought it ideal to tune her small talk back into her ears.
“The rest of the patients are eating dinner in the cafeteria now, would you like to go meet them? If not we can have you eat in your room, just for tonight. Yes – let’s go settle you into your room first.”
Estelle pushed Anna and her wheelchair down the hallway with a tall window at the end, passing rooms with varying levels of cleanliness, some wide open with sheets and pillows tossed about the floor, others pinned tightly in place underneath skinny mattresses. The wheelchair stopped for a moment before turning into room 709, giving Anna a chance to glance at the two empty nameplates besides the room number.
Estelle caught Anna’s glance, answering “You don’t have a roommate yet, but perhaps in a few days, once you’re feeling a bit more stable.”
The room looked like every other room Anna had ever stayed in – two beds, two desks, two chairs and two bureaux. As usual, there are no curtains strung up around the beds, nor equipment set up against the walls, especially not a television. The beds did not roll or mechanically adjust; just a mattress sat atop the wooden box spring, waiting to be made. It reminded Anna of a dorm room the day before it’s students are scheduled to arrive, a picture she wasn’t pleased with being reminded of. They were nothing like the rooms on other floors, she assumed. Anna rose from her wheelchair and stumbled over to the bathroom door.
“I’m sorry hun, but your going to have to keep the door open. Cracked, at least. I don’t have to watch you, but I have to stay here by the side.”
Anna could never understand this rule, none of the doors could lock anyway. Not for a moment would she be able to get a moment alone, so she tried to make good use of the little time she would have now. A new set of toiletries sat next to the sink faucet – a small capsule of toothpaste and a toothbrush, roll-on deodorant and a flimsy plastic comb and brush. On the wall of the shower sat a dispenser of amber gold fluid that doubled as shower gel and shampoo. Anna hated the idea of being forced to wash her hair here. She’d be devoid of any personal products or heating elements, and especially not the simplest hair scarf to cover the wild mess her hair was likely to become. “Frued must’ve thought it fun to see us colored girls walking around crazy with our nappy hair all out.” Anna thought to herself. It wasn’t until Estelle asked if everything was ok that Anna came back to her previous excuse of having to use the bathroom. She shuffled out and hoped she wouldn’t have to actually use the bathroom any time soon. She exited the bathroom to find Estelle with a questionable look upon her face – not of anything specific, but perhaps only striking her once Anna was standing idly away from her.
“What a pretty girl you are, so tall, and so young! What’s gotten you here?” Estelle asked.
Anna didn’t really focus on answering Estelle’s question – she’d barely said a word to the woman thus far – but instead on the T’s missing out of Estelle’s pronunciation of “gotten.” Anna strolled over to the doorway, looking out into the hallway with the large window at the end of it. She walked to the window, finding her height attractive in relation to the city below her, continuing business as usual. Across the avenue stood a young woman dressed casually well in the window of an apartment. She intricately wiped the window from ceiling to floor, totally unassuming of Anna’s stare, or anyone else’s, for that matter. She did this task with such precision that Anna assumed her to be a maid. This young white girl too beautiful for the job she was doing complexed Anna’s assumption. She was too skillful to be the the owner of the abode, too young to be putting so much emphasis into washing a window, and too pretty to be a maid at all. “Them white folks who own that place must be loaded, and pay her well enough.” And with that simple thought, Anna concluded her stalking and was already off to find something else happening in the street below. Streams of yellow taxis started and stopped down the avenue, as if all rushing to get to the same place at once but no one making significant progress. By now Estelle had caught up with Anna, if not in footsteps, in eyesight. Anna met Estelle back in the doorway of her room.
“Anything good?” Estelle asked of Anna’s journey to the window.
Anna nodded in dissent, then turned her head to find the textbooks she apparently gained repossession of while she was away at the window.
“MCAT’s, eh? You must be very smart.” Estelle complemented, looking at the books in unison. “You’ll be back at it soon enough.”
At this statement, Anna realized the rarity that just came over her. She thought back to her time at the window, void of the urge to jump out of it for the first time in ages. Perhaps she subconsciously knew she wouldn’t be able to escape out of it anyway – she once laughed at an acquaintance’s attempt to unbolt a window at a previous ward. She wondered what interesting characters she would meet this time, or whether they wanted to meet her at all.
Early stragglers began to return to their rooms from dinner as Anna watched through her doorway, sitting at the edge of her bed. A boy, perhaps slightly younger than herself, stretched his arms down in strict tension while making his way down the hallway without stepping on any lines from the tiles on the floor, focusing and balancing with great precision, as if one wrong step would drown him in the bubbling lava only he could see around him.
“OCD.” Anna slowly whispered to herself.
A Jewish man in his traditional orthodox getup also came past, holding a prayer book and rambling to himself in Hebrew and nodding incessantly. He had a lost and fearful look upon his face.
“Looks as if dinner’s over.” Estelle says.
Anna knew that she was covertly signaling that her shift would be coming to an end soon. Before long it would be 7:30, the universal time in which Anna would be forced to take some new pill the doctors had prescribed but not adequately explained to her, and a new stranger would be watching her sleep in the dark for the next 12 hours. Anna rolled her head in defeat again, turning once to find Estelle rummaging through her purse. Anna didn’t think much of it, directing her glance away again until she heard the patter of playing cards being shuffled.
“Care for a game?” Estelle asked. “My game is Gin-Rummy.”
A smile sneaked its way across Anna’s face; no one-to-one had ever engaged in such an informal matter around her. She assumed Estelle was just trying to make her last hour pass a little quicker, as opposed to an attempt to butter Anna up to speak. Even if the latter were the case, it had worked.
“Sure. How do I play?”
