It’s a beautiful day outside. How come when I have the chance, I don’t spend time outside by the Detroit River? When I move into my new apartment, it’ll only be a block away. It’s absolutely beautiful. I notice the sealed windows and try not to think about the lack of fresh air again. What I would give to breathe some fresh air.
There’s my roommate Judy. “Hey!” I wave her over. She is wearing the huge hood on her pink robe, which means she doesn’t want to be disturbed. To me, this is all the more reason to disturb her. The hood is so huge it actually covers the upper half of her face. I have told her we should cut little eye-holes for her to stare at Michael,kind of like those middle-eastern women. She trudges over, complaining yet again of constipation from the methadone. She’s trying to de-tox off of pain pills, heroin, and other drugs I’ve never heard of. She’s really pretty, but slightly overweight . She looks like the nurse in The English Patient—Juliette Binoche in a huge pink hooded monk’s robe.. I warn her that if she orders another laxative tonight I will be ordering another roommate. She can’t help but laugh. I still have horrific memories of her downing a Big Gulp size Ex-lax before bed and feeling like the room had been fumigated on top of there not being any fresh air last night.
I wonder if I should work up the courage to take a shower. I’m always paranoid that one of the convicts will walk in-- especially the giant pervert who’s been eying me. The door doesn’t lock. Maybe I’ll just take a really quick one and ask Judy to stand guard.
“Hey, did you order your lunch yet? Oh God, here she comes…” said Judy as she pulls her hood down even further. It’s Margo, the one who hears voices constantly telling her to jump out the window. She’d probably be really pretty if she lost about 100lbs. She has a freckled face and long, caramel-coloured hair down to her waist. She always wears three hospital gowns, one on top of the other, and the hospital issued blue socks. She said she gained all the weight because her uncles raped her. She doesn’t want to look attractive. Makes sense to me. She’s just had her first shower of the day. Normally she takes three. “Mind if I sit here?”
“No, go ahead, how are you?”
“I’ve decided to let them do the ECT on me”.
“You’re going to have shock therapy?”
“Yeah , they said it will stop the voices.”
“It’s going to stop everything. I saw a girl come out of electro-shock and she couldn’t remember her last name for days,” said Judy.
“Hey, Michael just changed the channel…should I tell him I liked the other one? Just to get him talking?”
“Judy, maybe you should put some normal clothes on so he doesn’t think he’s hallucinating that the Grim Reaper, in a pink robe, is stalking him. Also, maybe a quick shower would be in order after last night’s Ex-Lax. I’ll watch the door for you, if you do for me.”
“Did you order your breakfast last night?”
This was a big thing. I think because it was one of the few choices we could exercise. We could call a special #, and substitute what we really wanted to eat for what was on the set menu. I was constantly substituting fresh fruit plates. I had to place calls for lots of the new patients, who were too doped up and confused to dial themselves.
“Yeah, I ordered. Margo,when is your first shock treatment?”
“Tomorrow. So I have to fast tonight. The voices right now, are telling me to go to the window, to jump.”
“Tell the voices that the windows are sealed shut, so they’ll have to come up with a different plan.”
Judy giggled.
“For instance, you could spend the night in a cot right next to Judy, after she’s taken her night-time Big Gulp of Ex-Lax. She could sit on your face.”
“I’d sit on Michaels’ face,” said Judy
I got up to take a shower. “Judy, can you fucking please watch the door while I take a shower? I don’t want one of the patients walking in on me.”
“Allllriiiiighhht. But then you have to figure out a plan of how I can get Michael to talk to me. ?”
“ Looks aren’t everything.”
I got up, downing the rest of the decaf. “We’ll be back Margo. My Dad had shock treatment when he was in his 30’s and he felt brilliant afterwards. He could play anything on the piano. It totally dissolved all the negativity. It was the only thing that worked. Hang in there. It’s medication time in an hour.”
We stopped at the big front desk so I could ask for towels. There were about four women on duty, yet it took forever to even get one’s attention. Finally one told me they only had hand towels. Joy. I tried to be good-humored about it, not wanting to get on their bad side, and stationed Judy outside the shower room door. “Look, maybe you should go use the bathroom now, I don’t want you running off in the middle of my shower, you know?”
She came back and I shut the shower door behind me. There was no curtain, no anything. Just a bunch of blue and white tile and a shower nozzle and a toilet. I scrambled out of my clothes, and got under the water. It felt like heaven.
I used three hand towels to dry and dressed quickly. I had to let my hair dry naturally, which should be interesting, as I always blow-dry it. Maybe I would look like the Dairy Queen Woman who was admitted last night. Her hair looked like a Bride of Frankenstein Dairy Queen Ice Cream when she walked into the Day Room. It was spectacular.
I felt renewed. I asked Judy if she wanted a shower. She just wanted to go back to bed. “But breakfast. It’s about to be served.” She grumbled and threw herself on the bed, immediately snoring. Suddenly Medication Time was being announced on the loudspeaker. That woke her up. She sat up like an automated robot. “Medication time?”
We went back down the hall. Everyone was lined up, looking like a bunch of junkies. I guess some of them were. There was a small window that you had to lean into with a nurse in it, and give your name and room number to. Then you got your paper cup of multi-colored pills and a tiny paper cup of water. Every now and then a patient would refuse the pills. We actually had the right to do that. But in the end, it just meant a longer stay. “Uncooperative. Refuses medications”, on the chart.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
The Barbie Doll Episode
She woke up early that morning. She’d spent most of the night writing her college thesis about Kurt Cobain being Christ and listening to Nirvana’s ‘Bleach’ by candlelight. She’d listened on her headphones, careful not to wake her parents.
She sat down at her dresser and looked in the mirror. Her blonde hair was tousled, her blue eyes alert. She opened her drawer and got out her medications. She counted out six Zoloft and six Xanax. She thought, “Pills are just condensed dust, they only affect me if I believe in them…and I no longer do. The doctor would say I’m being grandiose…the entire idea of me thinking I’m stronger than the pills. Whatever.” She took the pills with water.
She quickly pulled on faded jeans and a sweater and her boots. She had to get out of the house before her parents got up. She felt wonderful.
She headed downstairs and out the front door, closing it quietly behind her. She fumbled in her white fake fur bag for her cigarettes and lit the first of the day, a yellow one to celebrate the sunrise. She hopped into her green Nova and headed to the riverfront to take a walk . She had brought her nephew’s boombox so she could blare ‘Bleach’ as she drove. She didn’t have a cd player in the car. The snow on the ground looked fresh and untouched.
At the park, Emma got out of the car and carried the boombox to the far end of the pier overlooking the Detroit river. She set it on the guard rail and played ‘About a Girl’. The familiar words echoed over the still water, making her happier yet.
She walked back to the car, and drove to the Salvation Army. She loaded her cart with presents for Faith and Michael, her niece and nephew. Lots of teddy bears, books, games, and then she stopped dead as she spotted a life-size Barbie doll behind the check-out counter…and a white mink jacket. She had to have both. Emma put everything on her American Express. She didn’t bother to try on the coat in the store, and realized on the way back to the car that it was far too small. She wore it anyway and threw the rest of the things in the backseat. She lit up one of her multi-colored cigarettes, this time choosing pink to match the Barbie’s taffeta skirt, and checked her wallet. She still had lots of money. “If I really have faith, God will provide.” She rolled her window down and threw the bills out to the street, watching them toss in the breeze. She felt free.
She turned on the radio and was surprised to hear, “Hi, this is Kurt Cobain and this is Bipolar Radio.” She wondered if she was imagining it—after all he had died only a week ago, but his voice was clear as day. He went on to say he was going to play some Dexter Freeney…she laughed aloud because it was the worst music she’d ever heard and Kurt was alive again. Even though it was only about ten degrees out, she rolled the window down and blared Dexter Freeney as loud as she could, bobbing in her seat. Emma decided the next stop would be the bookstore. As she drove she asked herself, “What is the funniest, most outrageous thing I could possibly do? To liven up this morgue of a city? She pulled into the parking lot and took a look at herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair wasn’t blonde enough. She took out her travel-size Johnson’s baby powder and sprinkled it on the roots of her hair. She then applied neon pink lipstick to match her cigarette and the Barbie’s taffeta skirt. She picked up the Barbie by it’s blonde hair, and
got out of the car, ignoring the stares, thinking to herself, “you’re in for some entertainment”, walked into the bookstore, up to a reserved looking clerk, and asked in a low, clear voice, “Can you please tell me where the animal porn is? Just animals, please, not people.” The employee pushed up his glasses and kept his serious expression. “I’m sorry, Miss, we don’t carry animal porn.”
“Well, that’s a shame. Where are your wrestling magazines? And do you carry Barbie World? He led Emma to the wrestling section and indicated where Barbie World could be found.
“Thank you for all your help. Although I’m not sure it’s the help I really need,” she smiled. She perused the magazines, picking up as many wrestling magazines as she could carry, and a stack of Barbie World. She headed to the bookstore café, dragging the Barbie doll by the hand. She ordered a pot of organic Earl Grey tea for two, and some Walker’s shortbread biscuits, suddenly feeling very British. She put it all on her charge, adding a twenty dollar tip for the goggle-eyed girl behind the counter, went to a table, put the Barbie across from her in a chair of it’s own, with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, and commenced reading Barbie World, laughing inside at the spectacle of it all.
She read for awhile, then gathered up everything and proceeded to the check-out, charging a hundred fifty dollars worth of wrestling magazines and Barbie World, thanking the clerk with a broad smile. The sleeve of Emma’s white mink coat ripped as she took her card back. The coat really was too small.
Word count 917
She woke up early that morning. She’d spent most of the night writing her college thesis about Kurt Cobain being Christ and listening to Nirvana’s ‘Bleach’ by candlelight. She’d listened on her headphones, careful not to wake her parents.
She sat down at her dresser and looked in the mirror. Her blonde hair was tousled, her blue eyes alert. She opened her drawer and got out her medications. She counted out six Zoloft and six Xanax. She thought, “Pills are just condensed dust, they only affect me if I believe in them…and I no longer do. The doctor would say I’m being grandiose…the entire idea of me thinking I’m stronger than the pills. Whatever.” She took the pills with water.
She quickly pulled on faded jeans and a sweater and her boots. She had to get out of the house before her parents got up. She felt wonderful.
She headed downstairs and out the front door, closing it quietly behind her. She fumbled in her white fake fur bag for her cigarettes and lit the first of the day, a yellow one to celebrate the sunrise. She hopped into her green Nova and headed to the riverfront to take a walk . She had brought her nephew’s boombox so she could blare ‘Bleach’ as she drove. She didn’t have a cd player in the car. The snow on the ground looked fresh and untouched.
At the park, Emma got out of the car and carried the boombox to the far end of the pier overlooking the Detroit river. She set it on the guard rail and played ‘About a Girl’. The familiar words echoed over the still water, making her happier yet.
She walked back to the car, and drove to the Salvation Army. She loaded her cart with presents for Faith and Michael, her niece and nephew. Lots of teddy bears, books, games, and then she stopped dead as she spotted a life-size Barbie doll behind the check-out counter…and a white mink jacket. She had to have both. Emma put everything on her American Express. She didn’t bother to try on the coat in the store, and realized on the way back to the car that it was far too small. She wore it anyway and threw the rest of the things in the backseat. She lit up one of her multi-colored cigarettes, this time choosing pink to match the Barbie’s taffeta skirt, and checked her wallet. She still had lots of money. “If I really have faith, God will provide.” She rolled her window down and threw the bills out to the street, watching them toss in the breeze. She felt free.
She turned on the radio and was surprised to hear, “Hi, this is Kurt Cobain and this is Bipolar Radio.” She wondered if she was imagining it—after all he had died only a week ago, but his voice was clear as day. He went on to say he was going to play some Dexter Freeney…she laughed aloud because it was the worst music she’d ever heard and Kurt was alive again. Even though it was only about ten degrees out, she rolled the window down and blared Dexter Freeney as loud as she could, bobbing in her seat. Emma decided the next stop would be the bookstore. As she drove she asked herself, “What is the funniest, most outrageous thing I could possibly do? To liven up this morgue of a city? She pulled into the parking lot and took a look at herself in the rearview mirror. Her hair wasn’t blonde enough. She took out her travel-size Johnson’s baby powder and sprinkled it on the roots of her hair. She then applied neon pink lipstick to match her cigarette and the Barbie’s taffeta skirt. She picked up the Barbie by it’s blonde hair, and
got out of the car, ignoring the stares, thinking to herself, “you’re in for some entertainment”, walked into the bookstore, up to a reserved looking clerk, and asked in a low, clear voice, “Can you please tell me where the animal porn is? Just animals, please, not people.” The employee pushed up his glasses and kept his serious expression. “I’m sorry, Miss, we don’t carry animal porn.”
“Well, that’s a shame. Where are your wrestling magazines? And do you carry Barbie World? He led Emma to the wrestling section and indicated where Barbie World could be found.
“Thank you for all your help. Although I’m not sure it’s the help I really need,” she smiled. She perused the magazines, picking up as many wrestling magazines as she could carry, and a stack of Barbie World. She headed to the bookstore café, dragging the Barbie doll by the hand. She ordered a pot of organic Earl Grey tea for two, and some Walker’s shortbread biscuits, suddenly feeling very British. She put it all on her charge, adding a twenty dollar tip for the goggle-eyed girl behind the counter, went to a table, put the Barbie across from her in a chair of it’s own, with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits, and commenced reading Barbie World, laughing inside at the spectacle of it all.
She read for awhile, then gathered up everything and proceeded to the check-out, charging a hundred fifty dollars worth of wrestling magazines and Barbie World, thanking the clerk with a broad smile. The sleeve of Emma’s white mink coat ripped as she took her card back. The coat really was too small.
Word count 917
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