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Just Some Rest Along the Way
It is not homi-cidal. It is sui-cidal. Cecilia’s lips were pulled back from her teeth, she was serious now. Call Lanford now. She referred to the Head Psychiatrist by his Christian name. You call Lanford immediately. She did it again. Cecilia stood tensely at the front desk, wearing the pale blue shift that outfitted everyone here. She was sleep-walking through her fourth day at the Riverside Behavioral Health Center, where the ambulance had spread its doors and delivered her. She was becoming okay. It helps to get rest, her second roommate had assured her, hairbrush exclamation point. It sure does. Cecilia couldn’t quite disagree. She was resting and resting and enjoying the finger paints when on the fourth day she asked to go back to her room to rest some more. There came a knock, a rap she dreaded three times daily. From her bed, Cecilia heard tale: Checks! Uh, Cecilia called out by way of salutation. How are you feeling?! the chunky nurse squeal-questioned, walking briskly in, clipboard between five sausage-like fingers. She was a fill-in, they’d never met. Cecilia lay still. Perhaps the stranger would disappear. The nurse, Cecilia, either, neither. Down the list of checks, This will be over soon. The nurse noted something on the page. Then, I see you have a new roommate! How is that going? Cecilia considered telling the nurse that her new roommate stayed awake through each starless night brushing her hair, brushing, counting each stroke. She reconsidered. Good. The nurse barely frowned, a small thing. Cecilia lifted her head, crinkled her eyes. I like her. She is also O-C-D. The nurse rocked back on her white nurse shoes, satisfied. She crossed the room toward the bed. Cecilia’s eyes widened to see the nurse coming near, what was happening. The nurse bent down, made like she was straightening Cecilia’s blanket, she just wanted to note what the patient was reading. It was her job, you understand. Cecilia caught her nurse scent, her mom smell, her I-drive-a-mini-van aroma. It was the perfume called Charlie, Cecilia knew this. I like your bracelet, Cecilia offered, studying the nurse’s necklace. The nurse looked surprised. Now she was confused. This girl? Recognizing Kay’s Jewelry? The nurse lowered the clipboard to look down at her fleshy wrist. Cecilia saw the Checks Sheet. Clearly circled in black: “Homicidal.” Wait, Cecilia said dimly. The nurse was admiring the gold hearts looping her wrist. The nurse raised her chin. Wait what. Cecilia had energy now, boy. It was forming in her eyes, it was ready to pour. She stood up and tried. Wait. The days behind her seemed to coil up at her feet in a rush. All the staff, the Head Psychiatrist, god damn it, told her she was the anomaly, their glimmer of hope, the winged thing poised to rise from the handbasket. In his office just yesterday, Lanford had leveled his eyes at hers. Though he was twelve years clean, they were kindred. Cecilia looked at the alien nurse with desperation. Wait. These are questions I have to ask, the nurse said in that voice. Questions shit! I am not homi-cidal. I am sui-cidal! Cecilia stood erect, hands raised like a conductor, enunciating with precision. The nurse relied on her years of training, she deserved another visit to Key’s Jewelry for this one. Get Lanford in here now, he knows! She managed to push her way past the stand-in and rushed down the hall to the front desk. Where the fuck is Lanford? Cecilia’s roommate heard her all the way down in the cafeteria where she was brushing her hair. Hurt my-self I said! My self! Lanford! Back
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