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No longer deep and stoic, solid in its own self-assurance… This voice is filled with emotion too twisted to warrant a name. It’s choking. Begging.
“Ma, listen to me!”
“Stop it! Stop it, get off me! Stop calling me that, you mad man! I need to go! I need to see to my boys!”
I brave another step forward and reach the doorframe. Suddenly unsure, I glance around it into the room and everything becomes clear.
The room—number 36 of Sunflower Ward—has the same bones as its siblings. A double bed, an open-plan living space, and a small kitchen off to one side. The door to the right has to be to a bathroom. Where it differs is in its pictures. Every wall, every inch of plaster and paint, is covered in frames upon frames of pictures. From black and white shots to sepia-toned, to blurry snaps taken with disposable cameras. They are old but happy. Every face is smiling, every landscape is dotted with flowers.
I’m reminded of both my own picture, now sitting in Caleb’s truck, and the frame he has on his mantelpiece at the house.
The subject of which is the woman in front of me. The woman screaming as if her entire world is past the door behind me, and the people on either side of her are keeping her from it.
With wild eyes, the woman—who can only be Caleb’s mother—spots me. Her mouth falls open, her fingers clench with renewed energy and she tries again to push past Caleb and a woman wearing the uniform of a medical nurse. Each stands in a way that blocks her path without actually touching her. She reaches up high to try and push on their upper arms, to shove them out of the way.
“You! You, girl. Pretty lady! You’ll help me, won’t you?”
Caleb spins around and I’m suddenly rooted to the spot.
I’ve never seen that look on his face before.
“I…” I stumble, now completely uncertain. The look in Caleb’s eyes says that I should be absolutely anywhere but here.
“Mrs. Walker,” the nurse is taking the hand from her arm and holding it with care. “Mrs. Walker, you’re not being forced to stay here. You can go see your sons. But it’s very cold today. Perhaps you should go tomorrow?”
“No! No, I want to go today!” Mrs. Walker insists. “If it’s cold, they’ll need their coats! Matty always forgets his coat. So headstrong, he thinks he’s invincible, that boy.”
For a moment, I think I see a flash of pain in Caleb’s eyes but it’s just for a second. I blink and the expression is gone, replaced with harsh determination.
“Ma. I’m Caleb. Remember? Matt isn’t here.”
“Well, of course he’s not. He’s at home. That’s why I need to—”
“He’s not at home, Ma. You know this already. He’s—”
Caleb’s words are cut off when the nurse places a hand on his arm. She shakes her head. I’m no mental health expert but the message seems clear enough to me. Caleb isn’t going to get through to his mother.
“What of you, girl?” Caleb’s mom suddenly calls to me. She’s red in the cheeks now and those beautiful curls have been sent in every direction. She looks crazed but I can tell that the vehemence in her eyes comes from a place of love. “You won’t keep me from my boys will you? You know that I need to leave, don’t you?”
My heart hurts. Like a vice has been wrapped around it and twisted notch per notch. There are tears in the woman’s eyes. She so desperately wants to see her children.
Without any recognition whatsoever that one of them is standing right next to her.
Swallowing, I glance at the nurse, a sweet woman with round cheeks and an intellect in her eye that shows there’s more to her than her friendly appearance. I remember what it was like when my father was ill, how I had had to trust in the medical team. They were the professionals. And while Caleb is trying to remind his mother of the reality of her situation, the nurse had been following her delusion. Using it.
“I… I’ll help you,” I say. The sudden brilliance in Mrs. Walker’s face is so blinding that I barely notice Caleb’s frown. “You should be allowed to see your children.”
“Yes! Yes, thank you, sweet girl! You see?” Mrs. Walker turned on both the nurse and her own son with eyes of damnation. Guilt twists in my belly. “You see? This lady understands. You’re both so heartless! Keeping a mother from her children is cruel, you understand me, cruel!”
“Mrs. Walker,” I say, trying to get her attention. The way she’s been speaking of her kids, it’s as if she thinks them still very little, so I take a calculated risk. Once I have her focus, I deliberately glance at my watch. “It’s about time for the boys to finish school, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Walker makes a gestured search for a clock amidst her picture frames but she seems to take me at my word.
“Why, why yes it is, my goodness they’ll be hungry. They eat like monsters they do.”
I try to smile.
“Do you make them snacks for when they come home?” I ask. Cottoning on, the nurse is nodding at me encouragingly and I feel a little of my guilt melt away. Maybe I am helping.
