Before I can stand up, I hear a woman’s voice behind me. “Is everything okay?”
Oh, crap.
Standing, I turn around to find a young, thin woman I’ve never seen before. When I see latex gloves on her hands and a spray bottle in one of them, I realize she’s a cleaning person. Reminding myself that I’m not a talker, I stand up and try to look confused. Very slowly, I turn my head to one side as if I’m halfway shaking it and then I hobble toward the door. Maybe I should try to go to the bathroom now, but I don’t want to arouse any more suspicion.
I shuffle to my bedroom and close the door. When I turn the knob, I find that the door is locked automatically.
So I go back to bed, having a hard time sleeping because, once more, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
7
The next morning’s routines are fairly easy, now that I know what to expect. Again, I’m awakened by the nasty redhead, but she seems a little nicer to me now. Still, I don’t much like her.
Once she’s got a bunch of us in the bathroom, she says, “Callahan, I know you’ll say yes, but does anybody else want to go to church today?”
I know what church is, but I don’t know if I want to go. I don’t know if I usually attend here, and I definitely don’t know what pre-institution me did. Because Red didn’t single me out like whoever Callahan is, I think it’s safe for me to not ask to go. Or, rather, it’s not safe for me to ask to go.
As I’m waiting for my turn to use a stall, I’m thinking about that kiss again, and I wonder how many times I’ve been kissed in the past. Certainly, at my age, I’ve had at least one.
What is my age?
I have no idea, and my mind wanders back to Joe. The kiss seemed kind of sudden, out of the blue, but if he’s really truly been in love with me for months, maybe years, then it wouldn’t seem sudden to him. And I like him a lot. Honestly, if I can trust anyone here, it’s him.
But somehow I know that I need to be cautious. I need to make sure that I protect myself, try to stop my emotions from clouding my judgment.
I’m just not sure how to do that, especially when I feel like emotions are all I have.
So, as usual, I meet him at breakfast. When we’re making our way down the line as I push my plastic orange tray, I ask, “Do you go to church?”
“Not usually. Why? Did you want to?”
“Why would I want to?”
“Well, they don’t have it here. They hold it downstairs on the first floor where they have a chapel. They don’t let patients go unmonitored but if they think you’re less of a risk, they won’t sit right next to you. I went once. I figured if I ever wanted to escape, that might be an easy way.”
“Escape?”
“Yeah. But you know there’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
I realize I know what a cat is, although I’m not sure I like the picture of skinning one. But I appreciate the info just the same. I don’t like the idea of escape right now, because I have no idea what I’m here for. For all I know, these people are keeping me alive, keeping me from the dark corners of my mind. I don’t dare leave—even though I’m engaging in a bit of what my brain told me was civil disobedience.
Still, I ask, “What do you mean by that exactly?”
“Let’s just say that locks are an illusion.”
Hmm. I’ll have to explore that topic more thoroughly with him later, when we’re not around so many people.
Soon, we’re sitting at the table we usually choose over in the corner. There are fewer patients in here today and I wonder if the whole church thing has anything to do with it. Soon, though, I forget about it to return to my own problems. “Joe, do you happen to know how old I am?”
He looks up from his fork, now heaped with part of a biscuit smothered in gravy. “I guess I never really thought about it. You seem to be in your late twenties, early thirties. I could be wrong, though. You don’t know?”
“No. I don’t have a clue. How old are you?”
“You know, it’s easy to lose track of time here, especially when no one gives a shit about you. I don’t even know what year it is anymore, but I think I turned thirty-two at my last birthday.”
Oh, that makes me so sad, so I touch his hand. He flashes a little grin at me, but he’s busy chewing his breakfast. I have some on my plate and I know I need to eat, but the way the cooking’s been around here, I’m not hopeful. Still, I need to try.
Fortunately, I’m pleasantly surprised. “This is pretty good,” I say, finishing a bite.
“Yeah, the weekend cooks seem to give more of a shit than the regulars.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” If I can remember when weekends occur, that is, but my memory seems to be getting stronger every day.
He lowers his voice, keeping his eyes looking across the room but clearly speaking to me. “How did medicine disposal go this time?”
“I’m not sure. It was easy enough to get rid of, but I was locked in my room last night, so I had to bang on the door until a guard let me out.”
“Yeah, it’s easier to do it right at lights out.”
“I might try something else.”
“Like what exactly?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m thinking.”
Now he shifts his eyes to look directly in mine. “I’m loving that about the new you.”
The new me. I like that.
We eat in silence for a bit, just looking at the slow line of people eventually finding a seat, and Joe seems happy and content. I sense in him an underlying dissatisfaction, unease, but right at this moment, it seems all is well in his world.
And I suspect I know why.
Maybe that’s why I don’t have any barriers preventing me from saying what I say next. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night.”
“What—when I kissed you?”
I feel a blush warming my cheeks, but I admit it. “Yes.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from.”
Grinning, I look down at my hand, but I have no words.
“You are so damn cute,” he says. “I love how you do that.”
“Do what?”
“You get all shy and embarrassed and look away when we start talking about matters of attraction.”
He’s right, because I feel awkward. If I have experience in these areas, it’s doing me no good, because I can’t remember any of it.
“And I love that about you, Anna. It’s a new side of you I can’t resist.” I swallow the bite in my mouth as he adds, “I’ll make sure we get more time alone today.”
I can hardly wait. I’m almost as curious to find out more about Joe, physically, yes, but in every other way as well, as I am about myself.
After breakfast, we walk to my room. Now I haven’t asked, but I suspect that being in our rooms is not necessarily against any rules but frowned upon, especially because Joe had said yesterday we have to leave the door open. For now, I don’t care. Until someone specifically tells me he can’t be in there with me, I’ll continue inviting him.
And I am definitely hoping for another kiss.
But I have other goals in mind as well. Aside from being overly preoccupied with Joe, the rest of me wants to know what is missing in my head. What are all of the things of my life that I can’t grab hold of?