But Inside I'm Screaming (23 page)

T
he rain has left the air thick with humidity, and inside the unit it feels more like the middle of August than the end of September. The central air is working overtime and Isabel begins counting the seconds between its blasts in order to bring on sleep. She makes it to one hundred and loses interest.

Outside her room, over the hum of white noise artificially produced by her Hammacher Schlemmer, Isabel hears a series of doors opening and closing. She strains to understand the muffled urgency of a distant conversation that gets louder and then stops altogether.

They’re late for the one-thirty check.

Out of boredom and the certainty that sleep is futile, Isabel gets up and turns the noisemaker off. She opens her door and peeks down the empty hallway.

She follows the voices until she can vaguely make out a word or two. Isabel recognizes the raspy intonations of her favorite night nurse. Connie is involved in the dispute, evidently taking place in the soft room.

“No!” she hears a male voice say.

“Wait until the count of three,” Connie orders.

“If we…” Another voice trails off before Isabel can identify it.

Around the corner, light from inside the soft room falls in a triangle across the linoleum floor. Shadows slice into it from time to time as figures pass from one side of the room to another. The ebb and flow of agitated voices continues.

“You aren’t listening to me!”

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” Connie is saying over the din. “On the count of three we’re going to lift the top part off simultaneously. The restraints are in place so this shouldn’t be a problem. Fred, you stand on the right and get ready to grab her if you need to.”

“She looks pretty sedated,” the male voice replies. “Maybe that shot’s finally kicking in.”

Isabel inches forward and looks over her shoulder. The hall is still empty. Whoever is in the soft room is commanding the attention of all of the night staff.

“Okay, ready?” Connie asks. “One!”

Isabel inches forward.

“Two!”

Isabel takes two more steps toward the room.

“Three!”

As she moves to the edge of the doorway she hears the sounds of metal hitting the ground and the muffled sound of a woman groaning.

Isabel takes a deep breath for courage and forces herself to look into the room. Strapped into a stretcher with a square of duct tape angrily slapped across her mouth, is Kristen. Her eyes are wildly darting from side to side and sweat is beading on her forehead. She looks petrified, like a trapped animal moments before it tries to gnaw its own leg off in order to escape.

Connie and several orderlies have peeled another stretcher off the top of her. While the others are busy cleaning up a mess of medical equipment, Connie
crouches at Kristen’s forehead and is whispering something to her, trying to calm her down. Isabel feels physically ill and turns away.

It is as if a flash of lightning has illuminated a photo negative of her nightmare and in that one moment, the difference between Isabel and Kristen has crystallized. In that instant Isabel knows they are traveling different roads. She stands there, outside the soft room, and hears Regina’s voice.
You’re not like the others…you’re normal.
She imagines Ben in camouflage marching down the halls of his school. She pictures Sukanya in the laundry room, reciting a Yiddish prayer. She sees Lark’s bloated body dangling, lifeless above the dryer.

She walks slowly, mechanically back to her room.

When Isabel closes the door to her room she knows, perhaps for the first time in years, that she is going to live. Before this night the prospect of returning to the “real world” had filled her with anxiety. Now she feels a quiet confidence.

“T
here’s nothing more for me to do here,” Isabel announces to Dr. Seidler within thirty seconds of the beginning of their appointment. “I’m ready to go home now.”

“Wow,” Dr. Seidler smiles. “Good. Okay, let’s get you home. Tell me about this resolve. What happened?”

“I’m ready to go,” Isabel says, completely sure of herself. “I know I’ve said this before, but this time I mean it. I am truly ready to go.”

“Excellent. I think you’ve done some good work here, Isabel,” Dr. Seidler says. “You’ve made incredible progress. It’s my hope that you’ve also learned some coping skills so when you feel overwhelmed in the future you can better deal with it. There are a lot of options out there.”

“I know. I do feel like I’ve gotten much better about talking things out rather than letting them build up inside. That’s been my problem all along. One of my problems. The rest I can continue with in New York, with Mona. That’s an ongoing project.”

Dr. Seidler has been nodding enthusiastically. “Absolutely,” she says.

“So. When can I blow this Popsicle joint?”

“Let me get your paperwork together and prepare you for your official discharge. You should know that I am required to put in a call to your therapist, Mona, just as a courtesy more than anything else. It’s just to notify her that you are leaving. You will need to call her to set up an appointment. As part of your discharge we need to be sure that you will have outpatient follow-up care. Just a formality since I know you will continue your work with her.”

“I’ll call her right after this,” Isabel says. “And I’ll call my mother to come pick me up. I need to tell her when, though.”

“When would feel right for you? I know you have your meetings in two days.”

“I can do it from there. Maybe it’s best that I get acclimated for a day back home before I go into the office. So…tomorrow? Can I leave tomorrow? That way I’ll have Larry’s group today and a chance to say goodbye to everyone.”

“You’re sure about this, Isabel?”

“Positive.”

“Then let’s make it tomorrow.” Dr. Seidler smiles warmly. “Why don’t you have your parents pick you up right after our morning appointment so we can say goodbye as well.”

“Great.” Isabel had forgotten she would also be saying goodbye to Dr. Seidler.

“Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about what you’re going home to,” Dr. Seidler says. “Let’s try to use every minute we’ve got left talking about what you’ll face when you leave here. That is, unless you have something else you’d like to address before you go?”

“No. That’s a good idea.”

“There are two pressing issues I feel you need to be especially careful about when you leave here, but I
know you don’t need me to tell you that. Your meeting at ANN is likely to be stressful, and you’ll be facing Alex for the first time in quite a while. How do you think you can best cope with those situations?”

“See, that’s why it’s best if I go in from the outside, not from here. If I went into the city from here, got overwhelmed again—even if it’s only half as bad as it was on that other trip—then went in to meet with my boss, I’d be a basket case. I’d have absolutely no strength to say anything in my defense, even if it were just to save face. I’d be worried that my medication wouldn’t be powerful enough to prevent another panic attack and I’d freeze up again right there in Sargent’s office. It would be a nightmare.

“Whereas if I leave here tomorrow I can have a night to get used to my apartment and I’ll have a fighting chance of salvaging at least a shred of dignity at ANN.”

“True.” Dr. Seidler is nodding again. “It just occurred to me, what if they don’t fire you?”

“Huh?”

“Well, you’ve been assuming you’re going in to face the firing squad. But what if you come clean and tell them you’ve been getting the help you need in order to deal with the medical problem that had prevented you from doing your job and you feel ready to tackle it again. What if they said, ‘Okay, Isabel. Then come on back.’ What then?”

“I honestly don’t think that’ll happen.”

“Still…”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure right now. I feel like I can’t make that decision in here. Maybe that’s why I want to leave. The big decisions of my life right now need to be made at home. I need to be in a different context. Maybe I would go back to ANN. Maybe I could kid myself that I wouldn’t let myself get that stressed again or that I know how to deal with stress now
so everything would be better. But maybe not. Let’s face it, the stress is always going to be there—this is the news business. I just need to figure out whether I want my life to be filled with that. And that’s something I can’t figure out from an Adirondack chair at Three Breezes.”

“Well said. So, what about Alex?”

Isabel pauses.

“In some ways that’s a dilemma that’s unsolvable. I mean, that train’s already left the station. I can’t help him. I know that now. I can’t be responsible for his happiness.”

“He made you feel responsible for his
un
happiness before. How do you know you won’t get drawn back into feeling responsible again?”

“I feel like I’ve been through too much since then. I don’t know,” Isabel says, straightening herself in her chair. “I don’t know how to describe it better, but I just
feel
ready.”

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

“M
om?”

“Honey, hi!”

“I’m leaving.”

“What?” Katherine sounds alarmed. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

“I’m going home.”

“Honey—” she calls out to Isabel’s father “—pick up the phone! It’s Isabel! She’s checking herself out of the hospital! Isabel, did they say you were ready for that?”

“They said I could leave when I felt ready and I do.” Isabel feels like it is real now that she has told her mother. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Isabel? What’s wrong?” Her father sounds preoccupied to her.

She takes a deep breath, bathing her internal organs with oxygen, and releases it.

“Isabel?” Her father is calling out to her through the telephone line. Through years of missed opportunities. “What’s wrong?”

Though he cannot see her, she smiles into the phone.

“Oh, Dad—”
there’ll be plenty of time to talk about that
“—I’m ready to leave, that’s all.”

“Of course we can pick you up, honey,” Katherine says. “When?”

“Tomorrow. At ten. But if that’s not good for you it could be later, I suppose.”

“Tomorrow? So soon! It seems a little rushed,” Katherine says.

“Why are you leaving?” her father worriedly asks.

“It’s time, Dad.” Isabel has to sound sure of herself for her parents. She pictures Kristen’s wild-eyed return to Three Breezes, trapped between gurneys like a human burrito.

There is a slight pause while her parents struggle to decide whether to ask Isabel more questions or simply take their daughter’s word.

“We’ll be there,” her father says.

“Thanks,” Isabel says, hoping this time he means it.

A
fter calling her parents, Isabel’s outlook changes. Just as Clark Kent becomes superhuman inside a phone booth, Isabel begins to look at Three Breezes with a form of X-ray vision. With only twenty-four hours to go, she begins to say a mental goodbye.

Melanie is the first person Isabel encounters on her way back to the unit.

“Isabel, I was thinking,” she says with a look of intensity to which Isabel has become accustomed.

“Sure, Melanie. What’s up?” she says, slowing her pace but not stopping, which forces Melanie to walk alongside her.

“I don’t have time to beat around the bush so I’m going to cut to the chase. I need a new mattress. I’ve talked to them about it over and over and no one pays attention. If you would mention it, they’d listen.”

Isabel is filled with an odd feeling of warmth toward this strange woman who is so fixated on the injustice of having to sleep on an inferior mattress that she completely avoids any chance at self-examination.

“You know, Melanie—” Isabel tries not to smile “—I think this will all work itself out in the next twenty-four hours or so. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

Melanie’s eyes widen. Most everyone has ignored her mattress complaints. “What do you mean?” she asks as her eyes narrow into suspicion.

“I have an idea,” Isabel says as she leads Melanie out onto the smoker’s porch, as she had done with Regina. “If you sit with me while I have this cigarette, I’ll tell you my plan.”

Melanie cannot believe her luck. Here is somebody who not only cares enough about her sleeping situation to talk to her about it, she even has a plan! She leaves her suspicion behind and follows Isabel.

Isabel sucks fire out of the wall lighter and inhales smoke into her lungs.

“Here’s my idea,” she says, exhaling smoke to the side of Melanie. “What if I went to the nurses’ station tonight and told them that you could have my room starting tomorrow? You could even be all packed up and ready to move. I’ll tell them it’s a simple switch.”

“You would do that for me?” Melanie is incredulous.

“Sure. It’s no problem.” Isabel does not know why she does not tell Melanie that she is being discharged in the morning. She feels like being appreciated for what is perceived to be a selfless act of kindness.

“What’s in it for you?” Melanie’s eyes again convey her skepticism.

“What’s in it for me? Melanie. How cynical of you. Why does there have to be something in it for me? Can’t I just do something nice for a friend?”

Melanie begins chewing on the inside of her mouth while she considers the authenticity of Isabel’s offer.

“I don’t get it,” she says, her mouth twisted to the side as her teeth work on loose skin. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Let’s just say I like to leave kindness in my wake,” Isabel says, smiling.

“That makes no sense to me whatsoever, but I’ll take you up on your offer. You’ll really do it? You’ll talk to the nurses tonight?”

“Yes. I’ll talk to the nurses tonight.” Isabel knows Melanie will obsess over this until the morning but she does not care. She is not ready to tell everyone she is leaving. They will treat her differently once that knowledge is shared. It is too painful to watch others leave Three Breezes.

“It’s a deal.”

Isabel extends her hand for a shake, but Melanie scoffs and walks back to the unit sulkily.

“Hey, Isabel,” Ben calls out as he lumbers past her chair on the porch. He is scooping chocolate-swirl pudding from a cup that looks ridiculously small in his huge paw.

“Ben! Come sit with me.” Isabel signals to the empty chair opposite hers.

Ben looks surprised at Isabel’s hospitality. He eases himself into the plastic chair and scrapes the bottom of the pudding cup with his plastic spoon.

“What’s up?” he asks with his mouth full.

“I just wanted to talk with you,” Isabel says as she again exhales smoke. “We never get a chance to talk one-on-one, so I thought now is as good a time as any.”

Ben moves the last of the pudding around in his mouth and then hangs his head. “Aw, man! You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he directs his high-pitched whine to his lap.

“Why do you say that, Ben?” Isabel is stunned that he, of all people, has been perceptive enough to feel such a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

“I can tell. I can just tell. It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s true. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m leaving in the morning. I was going to tell everyone tonight in Larry’s group. God! I’m amazed you figured it out.”

“It’s not that difficult, Isabel,” Ben says with an adult tone of condescension. “You never call me over to sit with you. You always did that with Kristen. Then I saw you do it with Regina the other day. And with Lark, too. You’d sit with Lark. But you always shoo me away. You never wanted to sit with me alone before today, so I figure you must be leaving. Why else would you want to sit with me?”

Isabel is silent for a moment. “You’re a very perceptive guy, you know that? You’re a smart, perceptive guy. I’m really sorry I never sat with you alone before.”

Ben blushes at Isabel’s words.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, unable to meet her eye. “I know I’m not smart, but I appreciate you saying that.”

The same rush of warmth Isabel had felt with Melanie doubles with Ben.

“Ben, I want you to know something.” Ben looks at Isabel, noting the change in her voice. “Please listen to me because it’s important. I want you to know that you are a good person. Your mother saying all that bad stuff about you—she was wrong to say all that stuff, Ben. She had problems of her own and she took them out on you and you were a kid and that was just plain wrong. I know Larry says we’re not supposed to pass judgment on other people’s problems but I can’t help it in this case. You are a good person with a mental illness that’s not your fault.”

Ben is staring at Isabel with his mouth hanging open. Puddles of saliva are gathering dangerously close to the rim of his mouth. He is transfixed.

“I know I should mind my own business and I know you have a lot of other things to work on, blah, blah, blah. But I want you to know that you’re a good guy.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you different. Not your teacher, not your mother, no one. And it sounds like you’ve struggled with a learning disability, from the things you’ve mentioned in group. That’s not your fault, either. You are a good person. If you believe that, you can do anything.”

Ben sucks up the spittle as he closes his mouth and looks back down. Then he says softly, “Wellbutrin. Wellbutrin has saved my life, Isabel.”

Knowing Ben will need time to digest what she has said, Isabel moves to a lighter topic.

“Ben, it occurred to me that I need to write down the name of that barbecue place you mentioned, in case I ever get that way.” She knows this is the highest form of flattery.

A look of true elation spreads across his wide face.

“Aw, Isabel,” he sighs, “you gotta try this place. It’s called Bobby D’s and it is so good I can smell it now, as I sit here talking to you. I’m telling you I can smell it now. You know what they do? They marinate the ribs overnight in this special sauce…”

Isabel smiles, pulls out another cigarette and lets Ben talk her ear off about ribs.