But Inside I'm Screaming (21 page)

“I
sabel?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Kristen. Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night. It’s just that there’s only one pay phone here and there’s always a line for it.”

“What’s up?” At the sound of Kristen’s voice Isabel goes from groggy to wide awake. “Are you still at Bellevue?”

“Yeah. Isabel, you’ve got to get me out of here. Please? Please help me get out of here….”

“Kristen, I have no idea how to get you out of there. In case you forgot, I’m in a mental hospital, too. Did you call your doctor yesterday?”

“Yeah, and he wouldn’t do anything. He said he’d handle it and I haven’t heard word one from him. Listen, I can’t talk long,” Kristen whispers urgently into the phone. Isabel pictures her cupping her hand over the mouthpiece. “They’re making me participate in a medication experiment. I don’t have time to explain but I want you to know if anything happens to me, that I’m doing this against my will. Got it?”

“Kristen, what are you talking about?”

“I’ve got to go in a second. Someone’s standing right behind me trying to hear what I’m saying. You’re a reporter, you can do something about this. They use us for medical experiments against our will. I’m telling you, Isabel, this is a
huge
operation. My doctor said he was going to try to get me out of here but he hasn’t called me back and frankly I think he’s in on it, to be honest with you. Please help me. Please get me out of here.”

Why me?

“Kristen, isn’t there
anyone
else you could call? What about your parents? Can’t you call them?”

“No! They don’t know where I am and I want to keep it that way!”

“Why?”

“I’ve always been an albatross around their necks,” Kristen says in a disgusted tone. “They wouldn’t hesitate to write me off for medical experimentation if they thought it would get rid of me once and for all.”

Isabel is tired and knows there is no reasoning with paranoia. “I’ve got to go.”

“Okay, I read you. I’m with you. They’re tapping the phones, right? You don’t want them to be able to record this…thanks, Isabel. You’re always one step ahead of me.
God!
I knew you were the
one person
who would understand. I’ll call you back later. In the meantime, you’ll do what I told you?”

“What?”

“Work on getting me out of here, remember?”

“Goodbye, Kristen.”

“Bye!”

Isabel hangs up the phone and looks at her watch. Two in the morning. She thinks about staying up and watching television but instead makes her way back to her room and crawls back into her crinkly bed. Her sleep is fitful and unsatisfying.

At daybreak Isabel changes into her running clothes
and tiptoes down the hall to the sign-out board. She heads out the door into the warm fall morning. She puts her head down and watches the pavement as she picks up speed.

“Wa-hey there, my friend.”
Sure enough, the gardener.
“Lovely day we got here!”

Is he ever in a bad mood? Jesus.

“Yeah,” she answers without meeting his eye.

“I
need to talk to you about a day pass.” Isabel shifts uncomfortably in her seat.
Tell her. Tell her about Kristen.

“Sure,” Dr. Seidler says. “What’s up?”

“I’m getting fired,” Isabel says matter-of-factly. “I set up a meeting so they can go ahead and get it over with.”

“You mentioned they were calling you.” The therapist pauses. “How do you feel about the prospect of meeting with them? Who, exactly, would you be meeting with?”

“Ted Sargent—the head of the news division. He’s the one who’s been gunning for me ever since the Diana thing. I expect someone from Human Resources will be there as well. They don’t know what I’ve been doing on this medical leave so I’m sure they feel like they’ve got to be careful, in case I’m in rehab for a drug problem. Wouldn’t it be against the law for them to fire me if I was in rehab?”

“Yes, if you had a drug or alcohol problem they would have to hold your job for you if you were making a good-faith effort to be clean and sober. But that’s not what we’ve got here, unfortunately, since you’re on
contract, and, as you’ve pointed out, your contract just happens to be expiring.”

“So they get rid of me by not renewing. I know, I know. In a way it’ll be a relief. I feel like this pressure’s been building…I’m so ready to prick the balloon.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I’ve thought about it and I’ve realized that that job, that
life,
is not for me. Plus, I don’t want to go back into a work environment that’s not friendly. Everybody’d be gossiping about me…speculating about what happened to me, blah, blah, blah. I’d rather have them do it and get it over with. The rest I can deal with.”

Across the office optimistically filled with colorful southwestern decor, Dr. Seidler smiles at Isabel.
She’s been smiling at me a lot lately…she gay or something?

“What?” Isabel shifts again in her seat. “What’re you smiling at?”

“You,” she replies. “I’m smiling because you sound like you’re feeling a bit stronger and, if my instincts are correct, more sure of yourself and what you want—or don’t want—as the case may be. Is that a safe assumption?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Isabel says. “I do feel stronger. I don’t know what’s changed, but I do feel a little more sure of myself. Maybe being here in the Nut Hut has actually helped me. Go figure.”

Dr. Seidler laughs. “Go figure. A lot of patients can’t ever see their way to feeling better. In fact, I’d say that’s true more times than not. Many people don’t take advantage of the help they have access to here so they remain caught in the grip of their illnesses. Of course, many can’t help it—they’ve been ill for so long or have gone without help for so long that a stay here is too little too late. It’s refreshing to see someone like you come along. Someone who is self-reflective and open, for the most part, to receiving help….”

“There’s something I need to tell you. Not about me.
About another patient here. I feel bad for not having come forward sooner. Because she’s in trouble.”

“Who?”

“Kristen. Let me start from the beginning…” Isabel tells her doctor everything: about Kristen’s not taking her medication, about Nick the orderly, the bizarre car ride that ended at JFK, about Kristen’s paranoid phone calls from Bellevue…everything.

“I’m glad you told me.” Dr. Seidler is looking up from the yellow legal pad she’d been scribbling notes on. “I’ll take it from here, don’t worry. You did the right thing coming to me about it.

“Switching gears, because our time’s about up. About your day pass. When do you need to go?”

“October second. I’d need to leave in the morning—our meeting’s first thing—and then I’m going to meet with Alex to cap off a warm-and-fuzzy love-fest day. I’ll probably be getting back kind of late.”

“That’s fine.” Dr. Seidler writes the date down on her calendar. “I’ll have the pass for you tomorrow.”

As Isabel leaves the session she scans the grounds looking for the gardener, feeling bad she had been abrupt with him earlier in the day. She looks along the tree line, where the manicured lawn meets the woods, at the beds of impatiens circling the cafeteria, and toward the sad structure on the hill where Peter is.

“E
xcuse me? Could I speak with Peter, please?” Isabel is nervous. The nurse looks up from her desk and cocks her head to one side.

“I know you!” she says. “You’re the jogger!”

“Huh?”

“I see you running on the grounds every time I come in to work. You run right past the employee parking lot.” She smiles.

“Ohhh…”

“We’ve been talking about you…we’ve never seen a patient running on the grounds before.”

“Really?” Isabel smiles weakly.

“I think it’s great,” she says. “Good for you. Now, let’s see where Mr. Peter might be.” She swivels in her chair and checks a schedule hanging on the wall behind her. “He’s in art. You can go meet him there, if you want to. You know where the art studio is, right?”

Ah, yeah.

“Yes. Thank you.” Isabel goes back out the door.

Isabel tentatively enters the art studio.

The children are all engrossed in their various proj
ects. The art teacher looks up and smiles. “Hello! Can I help you?”

“Um…” With a not-so-subtle flick of her head, Isabel motions for the teacher to step out of earshot from the children so they can speak privately. “I was wondering if I could borrow Peter for a moment,” Isabel asks shyly.

“Well,” the young teacher looks apologetic. “You can certainly talk to him, it’s not that, but while they’re here they can’t leave the building. They have to wait here for their escort back to their unit. So you guys could go over there—” she points to an empty table off to the side “—if you want. That’d be cool.”

Art teachers are all flower children. That’s in a rule book somewhere. All art teachers must look as if they’ve just stepped off Haight-Ashbury circa 1968.

“Great. Now, I know this sounds weird, but he’s not expecting me, so could you come over and let him know it’s okay to talk with me?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Thanks. By the way, I’m Isabel.”

“Nice to meet you, Isabel.” Her face lights up like a dandelion. “I’m Sunshine.”

Peter is painting. Other children are talking but he is silent.

“Peter?” He does not look up. “Peter, I’m Isabel. I’ve tried to talk to you a couple of times. Is it okay if I paint with you for a minute?”

Sunshine smiles and floats away.

No response from Peter. Isabel picks up a brush and dips it into the yellow paint. She starts to paint a huge yellow circle.

“Peter, I’m going to be straight with you.” Isabel takes a firmer tone. “I don’t know why it is, but I have to talk to you, I have to. So you can just go on painting and pretending you can’t hear me, but I’m going to talk to you.”
Though he has not looked up, Peter’s brush has stopped moving along the paper.

“I don’t know what your story is,” Isabel begins. “I don’t know why you’re here…and I don’t need to know. That’s your business. But there’s something about you that reminds me of myself when I was your age.”

His brush is still. He is listening.

“Did you know that when I was your age I did everything I could to avoid anthills, to make sure no one stepped on them? My brothers would step on them and I could literally
feel
them suffocating under the pavement. I could hear them shrieking for help, I swore I could. I still make sure I step around them. I saw you the other day, I saw you watching out for them, too. That’s when I decided I had to talk to you.”

Peter’s head slowly, ever so slowly, moves in an upward direction.

He’s going to look at me!

“You know, I used to feel
everyone’s
pain. Animals, insects, people…anyone who was hurt, I could feel it in here.” Isabel hugs herself, showing him how deeply she felt. Then she pauses and listens to her own words. “And it made me sad all the time.

“But I’ve realized…”
What? What have I realized?
“I’ve realized that if I do that maybe I can’t feel my
own
pain. I walk around worrying that I’ve upset someone, let someone down, made someone mad at me, stepped on someone’s anthill…you know? I can’t take on everyone else’s pain. The ants can take care of themselves, is what I’m saying. Let’s face it, they’ve been here long before us and they’ll survive longer than us…”

He’s looking up! Keep going.

“…so we have to concentrate on ourselves. On keeping some huge giant from stepping on
us.
Does that make sense?”

Peter’s head slowly bobs in agreement.

“Just help yourself, Peter. Don’t worry about the ants.” Isabel remembers her mother’s words. “Just help yourself. Love yourself as much as you love the animals and the insects and you’ll get better. You’ll get out of this place. I know you can do it. You can get out of here.”

Then something strange happens. Something strange and beautiful. Peter lifts his small head and smiles at her.

She strokes his tiny head and hugs him. Hugs him completely.

She holds him for a moment and then releases him.

Without saying anything, Isabel stands up and walks out the door. “Bye, Sunshine.” She smiles as she says the name.

“Have a
great
day,” Sunshine answers, really meaning it.

Isabel looks back at her friend. Peter is standing motionless, watching her go.

Isabel steps out into the sunlight.

“W
here’s my basket?” Casey calls to Isabel after shutting her car door. “By the way, I’m assuming I should lock it, right? Then again I’ve been trying to talk Michael into a new car for years so I’m gonna leave it open and hope one of your loony friends has the good sense to hot-wire it and go AWOL.”

Isabel laughs and inhales the smell of Casey’s shampoo as she hugs her. “God, I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you, too, kid, but if you don’t let go of me your doctor will start saying things like ‘Isabel, I find it
interesting
that you chose not to tell me about your homosexual tendencies’ and that’s about the last thing you need right now, girlfriend.”

Isabel links her arm through her friend’s, turning her to the unit.

“Now, remember I told you about how weird it is here,” Isabel warns Casey. “You sure you’re up to this?”

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been scraping macaroni and cheese out from under the stove for the past three years. This is the most exciting thing I’ve done in, like…well, ever. Where’re you taking me? They gonna
do a cavity search on me or something? If so, could you make sure it’s a guard who looks like Tom Cruise?”

“Julie, this is my friend, Casey,” Isabel says as she reaches for the clipboard to sign her in. “We’re just going to be out on the lawn.”

Julie looks at Casey’s empty hands and then says that would be fine.

“Why’d she look at my hands? She wondering if I’m single? She’s cute. For a price I could be.”

“I’m insulted. You won’t be
my
lesbian lover but you’d take Julie, who still wears headbands? She’s checking to make sure you aren’t smuggling in any contraband,” Isabel answers, opening the door to the outside again. “No razor blades, nooses. You know. Just your basic suicide-ward security.”

“Honey, I’m less worried about you now than I am about me,” Casey sighs, settling into a chair. “I almost put my head in the oven yesterday, I swear. Michael’s driving me insane. Come to think of it, I wonder if they have any rooms available here. We could bunk together. Braid each other’s hair. It’d be just like old times.”

Isabel soaks up Casey’s energy as if basking in the sun.

Casey looks at her. “Seriously, you look too thin. Are you eating?”

“Don’t start.” Isabel senses the conversation is turning serious.

“I know, I know. You can take the mom out of the suburbs…” She trails off and surveys the grounds. “Pretty nice digs. How is it
really?
”

“If I told you you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s fine. It’s good now, actually. I think I’m doing better.”

“You look like shit, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You really need to form some opinions, Case.”

“What is it? You having trouble sleeping, too?”

“Casey?”

“What, honey?” Casey’s face studies Isabel’s.

“Um. It’s just. Well. I just don’t believe you’re really here. I can’t believe you came to visit me here.”

“You can’t? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“But…but, I dropped the ball for you. I wasn’t there for you when you were having your biopsy.” Isabel stops fighting her guilty tears and lets them roll down her cheeks.

Casey takes her hand. “But you wanted to be.”

“But I wasn’t there for you,” Isabel sniffs.

“Look at me.” Casey squeezes her hand. “You wanted to be.”