September Rain

61

  -Angel

  An orderly sets my lunch on the tray table.

  It's all steaming finger food.

  No flatware required. Of course.

  The orderly stands quietly, watching while I try to eat.

  When I push the tray away, I hear the quiet scratch of him writing. Recording my intake.

  Not long after he's gone, another nurse enters. She's got my little paper cups of medication and a clear plastic cup of apple juice. I swallow down the contents of each container and open my mouth wide, showing all my teeth, wiggling my tongue around so she can see I took all of them.

  "It would be nice if you could learn to trust me."

  She almost smiles. "Trust has nothing to do with it. It's in my job description."

  Not long after she's gone, the clean lines of the room and walls fray, but my mind sharpens. Conversely, my limbs are overcome with that familiar leaden sensation.

  And the room is so quiet. There are no feet shuffling, no muffled sounds in the corners or creaks in the walls. It's just a wonderful, tranquil quiet. A feeling I don't think I have ever felt before.

  I wonder if smashing my head on the shower wall knocked something right, because I have never felt this level of . . . precision. Clarity.

  It's strange, my entire life I lived with a sort of confused duality and was never able to recognize it. Now that it's gone, though, I can feel the difference. The neurological oneness.

  +++

  After I've surrendered to living inside the curtain of heavy haze, Mister Brandon magically appears. I didn't see him walk in or hear a knock. He's just suddenly here, sitting beside my bed. Talking. And even though I didn't catch the beginning of his monologue, I'm kind of following along.

  ". . . No danger to anyone. The date's already been set. In six months time, Canyon View will be closed."

  "What?" My brain is much sharper than it appears. My eyes can't find their focus the way my thoughts have. The tone he's using . . . it's almost upbeat.

  With my eyes shut to stop them from floating around, I keep listening.

  "Miss Patel, we can talk about this later, if you prefer."

  "What does this mean?"

  "It means the state is closing this money pit, shipping the remaining patients to other, more efficient facilities. It means you'll get what you need in a more suitable environment."

  I open my eyes to find him gently smiling. The gray hair around his temples nudges, but the follicles don't separate. Too much hair gel.

  "Which means what?" I ask, again.

  "That you will be moving into a more individualized care facility better suited to a person with your needs."

  "I don't understand. If this isn't about my review, why are you here?"

  "This is about the review, as well as the state's budgetary issues that led to it. Miss Patel, from the outset your placement at Canyon View was meant to be temporary. There simply were no alternative mental health facilities available. You were a troubled girl, lost in a foster care system that failed you."

  He sighs. "You should have had a case worker that kept a closer eye on you. Maybe then, your troubles would not have gotten the better of you."

  Mister Brandon tilts his chin up, peering down at me. "Your reevaluation was concluded. Doctor Schumacher agrees with the Boards' findings. There are new treatments and better facilities available to you. A few months from now, when the time comes for you to be moved, you won't be going to another maximum security psychiatric hospital."

  My forehead crinkles.

  He sets a hand on my shoulder. "You will be moved into a moderate secure facility."