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Chapter Seven
Grace
The first time we meet is like a foreshadow of the rest of our relationship.Not that you can call it that.Less relationship, more mutual understanding.Elizabeth does not enter through the front doors like this is a stay at a motel.She does not act like her visit is only temporary.She does not go down without a fight.
I suppose this should have been my first clue.
When I hear the familiar click of the lock, I assume it is my lunch.It’s nearly that time, and today I am hungry, which is unusual.Food feels appealing for the first time in a long time.It could be on account of the new meds Dr.Branson is trying out.He says I am healing nicely, that everything has gone according to plan.I don’t know what he means byhealingoraccording to plan,and I’m almost too afraid to ask.I think, perhaps, sometimes it’s better to not know.
Alas, the first thing I notice, aside from the impressive fight my new roommate is putting up, is how pretty she is.It’s a funny thing to notice, considering that she has dark mascara running down her cheeks, snot pouring from her nose, and her clothes are maybe half on.At this point, I haven’t yet learned her name, but it strikes me how much she looks liketheElizabeth Taylor.As in the movie star.
It can’t be her.I know this.For one, I am not that lucky.Two, she is blonde.And three, Elizabeth Taylor is filmingCleopatrawith her latest love interest in some far-off exotic land.This was one of the last things I recall reading in the supermarket tabloid as I waited in line.She and Richard Burton were in the midst of a grand love affair.I set the magazine on the counter with the rest of my weekly groceries, knowing that if Charles were to find it, he’d have something to say.Not that he would be mad; he’d rib me with one of his killer jokes, and in his eyes, the last thing I wanted to be was that.It was my one guilty pleasure, the tabloids, whereas he had many.It was also what our last fight was about.Or maybe it was the second to last.I guess it depends on how you count.
At any rate,thisElizabeth is here now, and what a show she is giving.I learn her name as Nurse Wagnon draws it out in three syllables.“You don’t want to be trouble,” she says, “Eliz-a-beth, now do you?”
“Go to hell,” Elizabeth spits.There’s such venom in her voice, I’m pretty sure it surprises even Nurse Wagnon.
Wagnon straightens her back, smoothing her uniform afterward.“This isn’t a good way to start out your stay.”
One of the big guys in white with the thick-soled shoes, this one’s name is David, steps forward to restrain my new roommate, but she’s flailing every which way and she’s just petite enough that she easily outmaneuvers him.The whole thing is rather entertaining, in the sense that I have little to be entertained by given I haven’t yet earned privileges that allow me to leave this room.
I look on from my bed with the terrible mattress and the horrible sheets and the thin pillow as Eliz-a-beth struggles.Eventually, one of the other big men arrives, Marlon.He’s my favorite, if you can have a favorite in an oversized man whose sole job is to restrain you.
With Marlon’s help they get things under control, which is to say, they hold Elizabeth down on the bed so that they can place the restraints around her wrists and ankles.This does not deter her.She spits—and I mean, it’s a real mouthful— directly into Nurse Wagnon’s face as she leans in to speak to her.“You shouldn’t have done that,” the old nurse says.And she’s right.
Nurse Wagnon is the one nurse, probablythenurse, that you do not want to piss off.I can’t even leave this room and I know that.This Elizabeth, she’s in for a world of hurt.
She stops struggling for a moment and looks Wagnon directly in the eye.“I said I had to use the ladies’ room.”
“AndIsaid, all things in time, my dear.”
Elizabeth laughs.It’s a wicked kind of laugh, the kind that is not unfamiliar in a place like this, but there’s also something else in it, a particular brand of defiance, perhaps.
“Dear God!”Marlon exclaims.
I can’t get a good look on account of the big men blocking my view.But I don’t need to.I can hear what’s happened.The scent of urine fills the small room, spilling like Niagara Falls over the bed, pouring onto the floor.“Now you get to clean me up,” Elizabeth says.“How wonderful for you.”
It seems to me that this is not Elizabeth’s first go-around.Unfortunately for her, nor is it Nurse Wagnon’s.
“Oh my sweet girl,” Nurse Wagnon says as she leans forward to take Elizabeth’s chin in her hand.“As I said, everything in due time.”
I have doubts about whether Nurse Wagnon is going to administer the sedative she has in her pocket.I really hope she does.With her wrists and ankles restrained, there’s really only one thing left for Elizabeth to do, and that is to scream.
Which she does.Very expertly, I must admit.
So Wagnon does inject her with the magic silencing serum.“This will give you some time to rest, my dear.And to think about things.”
She pats Elizabeth’s shoulder.I don’t know why they all do this, as though it’s meant to be comforting.I imagine it’s part of the training that comes with the job.
Tears pour out from the sides of Elizabeth’s eyes.But I know it’s on account of the medication and not because she feels genuine sadness.I’ve been there.Sadness doesn’t come until the third or fourth stage.Elizabeth is still firmly in stage one.The anger phase.
“Don’t cry now,” Wagnon says, looking her over.“Things will look brighter when you wake up.Trust me.”
For Elizabeth’s sake, I hope she doesn’t.
Trust her, I mean.
“Not even if my life depended on it,” Elizabeth says, latching onto Wagnon’s arm.
It does, I want to tell her.It really, really does.
But I don’t get the chance to say this, because her eyes are fluttering and I can see that the medication is kicking in.
She sniffles and then hawks a giant wad of spit right into Nurse Wagnon’s face.Elizabeth laughs manically, her sleepy eyes wild.And this makes two,she croons in a sing-song voice.
This is the point at which I realize how bad this is going to get.Not only am I going to be locked in this room, I’m going to be locked in here with an actual crazy person.
