Low (26 page)

Bartholomew shaded his eyes, as though from a bright light. Adriana lifted a hand in farewell as she left the kitchen but Bartholomew Banks was absorbed by something going on inside himself. It was as if he were listening to a heated conversation, one which required his patience and attention. Adriana saw him lift his hand but she could see it was not a gesture meant for her.

She made her way down into the hallway, which was like stepping into an ever-changing stream. People passed her but she didn't recognize anyone. Then Melvin went by, closing again the few doors that had been opened after his first pass down the hallway. He grinned at her, but there was something awful about it, as though he was in great pain.

Adriana felt sick. The woman with the wispy hair, whose name she had never found out, wept silently as she passed her. Adriana stopped and looked at her as she went by, and the woman turned slightly toward her, with a cringing smile under her tears. She wanted to connect, but it was as if she didn't know how to do anything but cry. Adriana raised her hand in greeting, but didn't try to talk. It was more than she could bear at that moment, to reach beyond herself to touch someone else's hurt.

Chapter 34

The next morning, Adriana called Jazz from the kitchen phone, but it was too early. She wasn't awake yet, Mrs. O'Connell said. She was doing well though, glad to be home. Adriana was about to hang up when Mrs. O'Connell asked, “But how are you doing, Addy?” Adriana wasn't used to Jazz's mum being interested in how her life was going. She thought about what she might say, but couldn't think of anything. After a few moments, Mrs. O'Connell asked, in a small voice, “Are you okay, Addy?” She was, she realized.

“Yes, thanks. Um, could you tell Jazz I called?” Adriana asked, as casually as if she were phoning from her own home, as she lay on the living room couch with a mug of coffee in her hand.

Adriana heard the phone click off. Poor Mrs. O'Connell, she thought. Jazz's mum had a decent job, a house and a beautiful, charismatic daughter, but she was the most uptight and unhappy person Adriana had ever met. She dialed her father's house. There was no answer, but the voicemail came on after four rings. Her father's voice, enthusiastic and cheerful, said “You have reached the Song family home.” Beth's voice, a little wavery, chimed in “David, Adriana and Beth are not in right now, so please leave a message.” Her Dad ended with a cheery, “Have a nice day!” And the sound of the Chinese gong in the kitchen to end things off.

Adriana felt her chest tighten “It's Adriana,” she said. “Just wanted to wish you a happy birthday, Dad.” He would be 50, she realized, stunned. He had always said Beth was his best birthday present and that Adriana was his favourite Christmas gift, because she was born on December 24. She wondered what she could give him. The only thing she had was the olive green scarf she'd knit on short stay. Knowing her dad, if she gave it to him he'd start wearing it right away.

Adriana was walking away from the kitchen when she realized, with a jolt, that she was feeling okay, kind of normal. How had that happened? She wondered. Could the medication really be working?

She had a feeling of strength, that she hadn't had for a long time, along with a healthy seed of impatience, a desire for forward motion. It was as though she was ready for something and her body was resting, just waiting along with her for whatever came next. But Adriana knew she would have to wait. This hospital was an imperfect place, that did not operate in rhythm to the healing of its patients. It did not expel them at the first signs of health. She'd seen other patients reach this stage, more quickly than she had, and be held for days and sometimes weeks while the hospital took its time. Adriana knew that she had to depend on herself if she was to get out of hospital and back to the land of the living.

She plopped herself down onto a sofa in the common room. Melvin was sitting in the rocker, rocking steadily. He grinned at her from behind his sunglasses—that pained smile that he'd had since the hurricane. Adriana nodded to him. She had never really had a conversation with him, but she figured it wasn't too late. “Hey Melvin,” she said quietly. He kept rocking, but turned his head toward her. “How are you today?” It was lame, she knew, but she had never been a master of conversation.

Melvin stopped rocking, and Adriana felt a jitter of nerves. In a calm voice, Melvin said, “Everything's cool,” and started rocking again, no longer grinning. Adriana nodded, and sat back on the sofa.

A familiar voice called “Medications!” It was Elspeth. Adriana didn't take morning meds but got in line anyway. When she got to the counter, Elspeth smiled and gave her a little cup of juice. “Hello, sunshine,” she said.

As glad as she was to see Elspeth, Adriana was filled with trepidation about what she had to ask. “How's Jeff?”

Elspeth smiled. “You'll have to ask him yourself. He's back on the unit this morning.”

Grateful for a rush of relief, Adriana stepped aside to let Melvin receive his pills. Elspeth smiled at him and said something that made him throw back his head and laugh silently. Adriana felt a pang of jealousy, but she knew how it was. What Elspeth offered as a nurse was for everyone, not just her.

Adriana, relieved and thankful, decided to take a walk around the grounds. She hadn't been out much since she was admitted, although her privileges had been restored. Outside seemed like an unknown quantity. Adriana put on a sweatshirt and wrapped the olive green scarf she'd knit for her father around her neck. She doubted it was cold, but the scarf offered more than warmth—it was protective gear.

 

There were still branches and leaves strewn all over the ground, like an obstacle course. Adriana stepped over them, her sneakers quickly starting to feel damp. There were some big old elm trees with branches down at the north end of the property. It felt like something terrible had happened, like a glacier had just passed through or a club-wielding giant. But Adriana kept walking to the perimeter of the grounds, and stopped at the edge of the gravel track that led to the main road. She had no desire to leave the grounds today, now that she knew Jazz and Jeff were safe, and now that she technically had permission to walk the grounds freely. She mulled over the attempts she'd made to “escape” the hospital. She was more determined than ever to leave, but it no longer felt like an urgent necessity.

Adriana rounded the edge of the hospital property and turned back, past the brick laundry with its comforting smell, and the newer Mount Hope building where people lived for years and sometimes longer, if no spots were available in group homes. Adriana had not visited those units but she thought they must be something like a warehouse for human beings who were not able to take care of themselves. She felt grateful that would not be her fate.

Adriana considered the possibilities. She could go home—there were a lot of people she knew in hospital who didn't have a home to go to like she did. But it seemed to her that her father's house was no longer
her
home—it was the home of her sister and before that, of her depression. Adriana's face reddened. She knew she should appreciate it more, but something was pushing her away from the idea of returning to her father's house and toward her own survival.

Could she and Jazz find a place together? They'd talked about it in the past. Adriana thought she could get a part-time job as a cashier or something, and Jazz could get a student loan and continue going to school. Maybe she'd take a course herself. Just one. She could handle one. And she'd start thinking about the path she wanted to take, whatever that was.

Adriana felt relieved. She had a plan, and it made her feel like she had a future.

 

Adriana stopped at the common room when she got back to the unit. Surprisingly it was quite full. Jeff and Melvin sat together on one of the sofas and spoke in low voices. Jeff still had bandages over his neck and Melvin, in sympathy or comradeship, wore a white towel around his own neck. Jeff looked up at Adriana briefly and nodded. She felt herself crumbling, but with all the willpower she could muster, she sat down on the couch where Marlene dozed in her parka.

Adriana caught a smattering of Jeff's conversation with Melvin. “It was a strange time,” he said.

Melvin nodded and said in a his clear, bell-like voice, “Things were weird here too.” Melvin took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. It was the first time Adriana noticed them and to her surprise, they were green.

“I like it better back here,” Jeff said, stretching his legs out in front of him and putting his hands behind his head.

Melvin stretched out too. “Glad you're back, buddy,” he said. Jeff nodded sagely. “Yes I think I'll hang out here for awhile,” he said. Melvin threw back his head in silent laughter, and Jeff grinned.

Adriana cleared her throat. “Jeff,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse and strange. Jeff looked up.

“Hey Adriana,” he said.

“Jeff I'm sorry,” Adriana blurted and the rest came out of her in a river. “I'm sorry I gave you that jar. I'm so sorry that you hurt yourself. I feel terrible about it. I hope you'll forgive me. Please forgive me.” Adriana stood trembling. Jeff looked up at her, confused. Adriana pointed to his neck. “You cut yourself. It's my fault.” she said, hysteria rising in her throat.

Jeff shook his head. “Don't worry about it,” he said mildly. “It happened and I'm glad. Relieved.” He said. Now Adriana looked confused. “I mean when you have a hurricane to deal with, you do what you have to,” he said. She felt stricken. Did Jeff think he could stop the hurricane by hurting himself?

“Hey!” he said brightly, pointing at her father's scarf. “Do you think, you could make me one like that? It would be nice to have something to cover my neck. I get cold sometimes.“ Adriana nodded. He wanted a scarf to cover his battle scars, and who could blame him? She felt relief rising in her like a loaf of bread. So there was something she could do, after all.

Adriana went to her room. She looked for signs that Samantha, or anyone else had visited, but her things were just as she's left them. She opened her locker and dug around in a bag of yarn for the knitting needles. They were long and lethal looking.

All she had were scraps of yarn, and one almost-full ball of the olive green she'd used for her father's scarf. Adriana decided that would make the main body of the scarf and the ends would be multi-coloured—blue and rust. It might be funny looking, she fretted, but it would have to do. She got to work, the rhythmic clicking of needles like an incantation.

Samantha knocked on the bedroom door, and her massive head appeared around the corner. “Hey there, girl,” she said, “I brought you something.” Adriana, startled, looked up. Samantha stepped into the room with a plastic bag and handed it to Adriana. Inside was a fuzzy lavender coloured wool sweater. “It's from the apparel shop,” she said proudly. Adriana knew the apparel shop was a room in the Mount Hope building where patients could go to choose free clothing. Adriana thought the sweater was a beautiful colour, but she felt queasy when she heard where it was from. She'd never taken charity in her life. Samantha sat on the edge of her bed. “What are you making?” she asked.

Adriana had an idea. “It's a scarf for Jeff. To cover his…” She put her hand to her neck. Samantha nodded. Adriana fingered the sweater. “Would you mind if I took this sweater apart and used the wool for the scarf?”

Samantha laughed and clapped her hands. “What a wonderful idea!” she gushed, to Adriana's considerable relief.

“Will you make one for me?” Samantha asked excitedly. “I have an old wool sweater, my favourite from when I was…” Samantha gestured at the lower part of her torso with a sweep of her hand, “a man, and I keep it to remind me of the past but I would love it if you could make a scarf out of it.” Adriana nodded, trembling. She felt too light suddenly. It was almost like happiness but with a tinge of anxiety.

Samantha stood up, and stretched her arms over her head, then bent toward Adriana. “I came to visit Bartholomew,” she said in a confidential tone. She grimaced. “Tony has been off on stress leave, so I am allowed on Mayflower any old time. She grimaced. “I think it's over between Tony and me,” she sighed regretfully. Her face brightened. “But I am very glad to have met Bartholomew. He is a fascinating, intelligent man.” She fanned her face with her hand. “He told me I have a rare spirit,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “Do you think he's right?” she asked Adriana, hands clasped ecstatically. “No one has ever said such a thing to me before.”

Adriana rolled her head, in a gesture between a shake and a nod. Samantha was a rare spirit, but Adriana wondered whether she was reading too much into what Bartholomew Banks had said, or rather, inferring too much. She hated the idea of Samantha being hurt again. She knew what heart break was like, and how it felt to slip down the whorl of a shell into a bottomless darkness. Maybe Samantha was not like her though. Maybe her heart was better protected, more shell than the soft creature inside. But Adriana knew this was not the case. It was just that Samantha was more buoyant, that she didn't hang on to the hurts as though they were precious objects, but let them pass through her like breath.

Samantha wiped some hair out of Adriana's eyes, which made her jump. “You look so sad,” Samantha said, and her eyes were sad too. Adriana tried to smile. Samantha straightened. “You never told me about him,” she said, kindly. Adriana shook her head and let her hair hang over her face.

The last time she saw Peter, he was walking with the girl with the auburn hair. Adriana couldn't shake the thought that she was replaceable, forgettable even. That there was someone else filling that place in Peter's heart, pushing her out. It was as though she were homeless now. And Adriana realized with a twinge of sadness, that she'd been holding on to the idea that his heart was a safe place, a home she could live in, against all evidence. Really, Peter offered her nothing beyond a friendly smile and a casual desire which was gone like a puff of smoke. She had tried to make-believe he was something else, and that had brought her reams of grief.