do this to their children.
The door opened once more, and the nurse asked, “Do you want some breakfast?”
Cara shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate or drank, not that it mattered to her. Her stomach was tied in knots, her throat constricted and aching from her struggle the previous day and the tears she’d shed all night long.
The nurse returned to her station.
Without a wall clock or any exterior windows to gauge the time of day, Cara had no way to determine the passage of time. She didn’t know if she waited in the chair for twenty minutes or several hours. At last the nurse reappeared.
“Someone will be coming to take you to your room,” she said.
Cara lacked the strength to ask what room , so she merely nodded, indicating she understood the words if not the meaning behind them.
A young man entered the unit. He looked Cara up and down before disappearing into the nurses’ station. When he emerged, he carried a manila folder in his hand.
“Follow me.”
Cara rose from the chair, her movements slow, awkward.
The young man ignored her. He headed to the door hand in his pocket, searching for the key. The young nurse stepped out of the nurse’s station. She lay a soft hand on Cara’s arm, stopping her. Leaning her head close to Cara, she pressed her mouth against her ear.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Don’t make waves and you’ll get out of here sooner rather than later. When they give you pills, put them under the back of your tongue and hide them until after they check your mouth. Spit the pills into your milk carton.” The nurse took a breath. “Be careful what you say to Dr. Kent.”
When the nurse let her go, Cara almost fell on her face. The young man glanced back, impatient now. The nurse steadied Cara and gave her a little shove in his direction.
“She hasn’t had a thing to eat or drink in nearly two days,” she said. “And make sure she gets help with a shower. Female help,” she added. “I’ll be down to check on her later.”
Cara stumbled after the young man. He led her to a bank of elevators, pressing the button for the farthest one. He and Cara stepped inside and she noted the elevator only went to two floors, two and four. They descended to two. The elevator doors opened onto a short, well-lit hallway. The gray linoleum floors were scrubbed clean. Doors opened off the hallway into bedrooms. The rooms resembled dorm rooms but they each contained only one bed and a dresser. There were no knobs on the doors, no locks, simply a handle on the outside.
They passed what appeared to be an arts and crafts room. Patients worked on various crafts. One man used a potter’s wheel. Several women were painting. A few people knitted, some made those simple, childish potholders Cara had made back when she was a Brownie.
She continued to follow her guide down the hall toward another locked Nurse’s Station. The farther she walked, the more lightheaded Cara grew. She forced herself to remain upright. The last thing she wanted to do was faint and be at their mercy, whoever they might be. The young man unlocked the door and left her standing in the empty hallway. Cara watched him hand the manila folder to a woman in a white uniform. She heard him repeat the other nurse’s parting instructions.
“Cara Franklin?”
Cara nodded.
“Let me show you to your room and I’ll see what I can do about getting an aide to help you with a shower. I believe there are some clean clothes waiting for you. Lunch will be served in an hour. After lunch, I’ll let you know what’s expected of you. Looks like you’ve already had your meds this morning so we can skip those today. Oh, it appears you have an appointment with Dr. Kent at two.”
Cara was relieved at the professional tone in the nurse’s voice. She would rather kill herself than have a repeat of last night. Unfortunately, most of what the woman said went in one ear and out the other. Cara struggled to
The door opened once more, and the nurse asked, “Do you want some breakfast?”
Cara shook her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate or drank, not that it mattered to her. Her stomach was tied in knots, her throat constricted and aching from her struggle the previous day and the tears she’d shed all night long.
The nurse returned to her station.
Without a wall clock or any exterior windows to gauge the time of day, Cara had no way to determine the passage of time. She didn’t know if she waited in the chair for twenty minutes or several hours. At last the nurse reappeared.
“Someone will be coming to take you to your room,” she said.
Cara lacked the strength to ask what room , so she merely nodded, indicating she understood the words if not the meaning behind them.
A young man entered the unit. He looked Cara up and down before disappearing into the nurses’ station. When he emerged, he carried a manila folder in his hand.
“Follow me.”
Cara rose from the chair, her movements slow, awkward.
The young man ignored her. He headed to the door hand in his pocket, searching for the key. The young nurse stepped out of the nurse’s station. She lay a soft hand on Cara’s arm, stopping her. Leaning her head close to Cara, she pressed her mouth against her ear.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered. “Don’t make waves and you’ll get out of here sooner rather than later. When they give you pills, put them under the back of your tongue and hide them until after they check your mouth. Spit the pills into your milk carton.” The nurse took a breath. “Be careful what you say to Dr. Kent.”
When the nurse let her go, Cara almost fell on her face. The young man glanced back, impatient now. The nurse steadied Cara and gave her a little shove in his direction.
“She hasn’t had a thing to eat or drink in nearly two days,” she said. “And make sure she gets help with a shower. Female help,” she added. “I’ll be down to check on her later.”
Cara stumbled after the young man. He led her to a bank of elevators, pressing the button for the farthest one. He and Cara stepped inside and she noted the elevator only went to two floors, two and four. They descended to two. The elevator doors opened onto a short, well-lit hallway. The gray linoleum floors were scrubbed clean. Doors opened off the hallway into bedrooms. The rooms resembled dorm rooms but they each contained only one bed and a dresser. There were no knobs on the doors, no locks, simply a handle on the outside.
They passed what appeared to be an arts and crafts room. Patients worked on various crafts. One man used a potter’s wheel. Several women were painting. A few people knitted, some made those simple, childish potholders Cara had made back when she was a Brownie.
She continued to follow her guide down the hall toward another locked Nurse’s Station. The farther she walked, the more lightheaded Cara grew. She forced herself to remain upright. The last thing she wanted to do was faint and be at their mercy, whoever they might be. The young man unlocked the door and left her standing in the empty hallway. Cara watched him hand the manila folder to a woman in a white uniform. She heard him repeat the other nurse’s parting instructions.
“Cara Franklin?”
Cara nodded.
“Let me show you to your room and I’ll see what I can do about getting an aide to help you with a shower. I believe there are some clean clothes waiting for you. Lunch will be served in an hour. After lunch, I’ll let you know what’s expected of you. Looks like you’ve already had your meds this morning so we can skip those today. Oh, it appears you have an appointment with Dr. Kent at two.”
Cara was relieved at the professional tone in the nurse’s voice. She would rather kill herself than have a repeat of last night. Unfortunately, most of what the woman said went in one ear and out the other. Cara struggled to
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