Left In Good Spirits

by Anne Pleydon

  “This is my second time out today because of this.” He lifts his arms and she sees the bandages have been replaced with smaller, white gauze.

  “How are you feeling?” she asks.

  “Alright. Bored as fuck. I get out of discipline just to go on lockdown.”

  “It sounds like quite a story. What’s with the sock thing that you guys left for staff.”

  Cody laughs. “I don’t know. Some messed up new kid.”

  “You weren’t a part of that?”

  “What the fuck? I’m not some monkey.”

  “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It means I’m not an animal. That’s just dumb.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine. Like geez, you guys all made a big deal out of nothing.”

  “I don’t think that’s nothing. You could’ve died.”

  “Nah.”

  “When’s the last time you had a suicidal thought?”

  “I didn’t. I just said it before I got here.”

  “And nothing since?”

  “No, I told you.”

  “What about depression, feeling down?”

  “Only because I’m back in this place.”

  “You seemed really down about it.”

  “It’s no big deal. This place is a joke.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah, compared to like MACC or Gage? They fuckin’ strap people into beds and give them needles and shit at MACC. You can hear people screaming when you walk past that place.”

  Kenny smiles. “No, you can’t.”

  “This place is for kids.”

  “How so?”

  “It just is. With all these kids here. The staff think they have so much power here. It’s a joke.”

  “You haven’t connected with any of the staff here?”

  “No.”

  “What about Baird?”

  “He’s alright for a white guy.”

  “And McDonough? He has you on garbage.”

  “Oh, garbage, big deal. He won’t let me in the kitchen because he thinks I’ll burn down the place. That guy’s a goof.”

  “And, you’re doing the gardening thing,” Kenny adds.

  “I didn’t ask to do that. They just told us.”

  Kenny asks, “What do you think about that? The gardening thing.”

  “Whatever. It’s … whatever. That big lady told us we could do it. But, then she’s out there watching us, too. Everyone needs to supervise us. Because we might fuck up some dirt.”

  “Big lady,” Kenny repeats. She knows he means Lana Clearwater.

  “I don’t give a shit. It gets me off the unit. She wants to watch us work. Maybe she’s desperate or something. I just can’t stand her so close by and putting her gunt in my face.”

  “What does gunt mean?”

  “You never heard that?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s like her stomach, when your stomach hangs over your cunt. Your gut hangs over your-” He slaps his abdomen.

  “Okay, okay,” Kenny stops him, holding up her hand. “That’s pretty disgusting. Inappropriate, really.”

  “That’s what it’s called. It’s not my fault.”

  “Well, you don’t need to speak like that. You’re better than that.”

  “She’s Native, eh.”

  “She is?”

  “She’s an apple.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Red on the outside but white on the inside.”

  “I don’t even want to pretend to know what you mean by that. It sounds racist.”

  “I can’t be racist about Natives. She’s Native but acts white,” Cody explains.

  “I spoke with staff and they say you’re doing alright. So, I’m going to take you off suicide watch.”

  “Okay.”

  “I would really like you to consider putting in a referral to speak to Mental Health.”

  “What’s that? Why?”

  “To speak with someone here. I like speaking to you.”

  “We can talk when I see you around. I’m no psycho. I don’t need counselling.”

  “You’re still seeing Dr. Mull for meds.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, well I guess that’s it. I will cry about this after you leave,” Kenny jokes.

  Cody gets up slowly and steps out on the Rotunda. Kenny stops in the office doorway and makes eye contact with Rodney. Rodney nods that he has him.

  Kenny rests her shoulder against the door jam. The sun is setting so early these days. It’s not even 4pm and she sees the rosy, orange glow of the setting sun’s last rays soaking up the Rotunda. She ignores Wolcott and Dunny and stares at the empty yard. She isn’t sure if there is still frost there on the grass. Merivale is so quiet with the restricted movements. She finds herself thinking about the OIC’s comments earlier today about Farewell. She is certain she heard about Noah and Eddie’s affiliation when she worked with Noah. Sometimes she asks the kids their opinion about staff or therapists she hates or about other kids who are especially antisocial or psychopathic. She remembers all those years ago being disappointed that Noah had said Eddie was “alright.” She knew “alright” meant they was a connection and that there was a loyalty there. She closes her eyes and tries to remember what Eddie looked like but comes up with nothing. She didn’t have contact with that kid. She remembers Noah. He was tall and thin with buzzed hair. His dark eyes were always resting on her unless they were walking anywhere outside the therapy room. And then he stared forward. Other people called him cold and a psychopath. She told them they didn’t know him like she did. When he wasn’t by her side it was like a sheet of armour came over him. His face was so flat that some staff even asked her if he was intellectually slow. She would examine his face and wonder if she was pulling something from him that wasn’t actually there. Maybe his face hadn’t been that expressive in therapy after all. Or was it? He was always curious and listening. Wasn’t he?

  “Remember what we talked about last week? Do you remember what it means to ‘make good’?” she asked him one lazy Sunday afternoon. She had pulled him in for therapy when everyone else was having family visits. It was a couple weeks after his sister had died and the first Sunday that his father would not be able to make it in.

  He answered, “To become good? To make up for what you’ve done?”

  She replied, “It’s how you’ll understand the story of your life. Ten or fifteen years from now, what will you say this was all about?”

  He shrugged.

  She continued, “You told me that when you were in elementary school, you were good.”

  “Yeah.”

  She asked, “Are you still good? Will you be good again? And if so, what was this all about? You need to give it meaning, and then maybe you can use it.”

  He said, “I’m not good. I’m bad.”

  “Are you a bad person or are you a good person who has done bad things?”

  “I don’t know. I think I’m good.”

  “‘Making good’ is when you stop doing these bad things and you try to make sense of it. Maybe you were meant to go through all this to give you motivation and strength to be good and do good again. Become the good person you always were. In the movies, it’s some big moment. But it doesn’t happen like that in real life. In real life, it’s slow. And no one can force it. You have to do it on your own.”

  “I’m not getting you.”

  “Yeah, I think I think I fucked that up. It sounded a lot cooler in my head. Never mind,” she said. And they had both laughed about it.

  Kenny steps back into the interview room to retrieve the paperwork she needs to fill out to take Cody off suicide watch. She thinks about this morning and dismisses the OIC’s info about Noah. She knows the staffs’ impressions of her former client are coloured by their own bias. They would never be hopeful. They would always suspect. Noah would
always be a thug to them. Sure, Noah was probably still loyal to Eddie and Marco and those guys but hopefully once he left the city he had stayed gone. The staff didn’t see his desire to travel the world. They didn’t know how much he controlled his feelings and considered himself different from everyone here. She tells herself she would have heard something by now if Noah was still around and in any trouble. She believes that what staff know, the kids know, and what the kids know, the staff know.

  Chapter 23

  BAIRD STANDS BY THE fire exit door on his unit and looks at the yard. It’s empty. The day has been overcast and sleepy. Friday afternoon and Baird can feel the tension releasing on the unit. They were on lockdown the whole day yesterday so the boys don’t want to push it. They’re speaking inside their hands and passing looks. Everyone wants to know who said what yesterday during the investigation. Even though they know the lockdown was about more than the sock and even though they are the ones that encouraged this new kid to do it in the first place, the boys displace their frustration about the lockdown and freeze out the new kid. It restores a sense of order and all feels right in the world.

  Baird is pleased the boys used their yard and gym time appropriately today. They were like young horses released from the barn after a long winter’s sleep. At first, he thought the energy was nervous, but it wasn’t. Something would gear up next week maybe. But the new kid wouldn’t cause any trouble. Also, the boys like the weekends because there’s no programming and they get to sleep in and watch much more television. It’s December and typically night shifts are being filled by the casuals because of all the regular staff taking their vacation. Tonight is a regular staff and the boys know it and feel settled. The next two days might be another story with all the casuals but Baird’s off until Monday night so he doesn’t care.

  The boys are watching a movie that Lana Clearwater would likely not deem appropriate. But Baird doesn’t care. These boys have seen more on the outside than some movie could ever expose to them. He wants an easy shift. He hates that feeling though. He hates that he wants an easy shift. He hates that he wonders if the house is rocking before coming on shift. He used to be so invested. He used to research corrections and security techniques and want to share the information with Frank. He came up with activities and group programming. He used to stand up when delivering programs for Christ’s sake. He went for extra training. He trained to be a trainer. He used to play sports with the boys in the gym and out on the yard. But, then he pulled back. He hates that he is just ‘good enough’ now and he hates it most because he can feel the difference. He knows who the good staff are and who are the ones that are phoning it in. He likes to feel he belongs to neither group. Just outside of it all. But maybe he is phoning it in. Baird is resolved. He’ll protect his partner and himself but that’s it. He’s not going to risk things now.

  Baird used to hate working the night shift when Liam was first born. He felt he was missing everything. But now, night shift is a comfort because he is missing everything anyway. On night shifts, he leans back on a chair and watches tv and listens to the gentle hum of the ventilation system, the fridge, and the tiny sparks of chatter on the radio when staff spell each other off to sleep. They aren’t supposed to sleep. But everyone knows they do.

  Baird can feel the cold air coming through the exit door but he doesn’t mind it. He’s wearing a t-shirt because the unit is too hot for him. They had the Ombudsman come through the other day asking the kids all kinds of questions like they do 2-3 times year. They even asked the kids if the lighting was too bright. Someone must have complained years ago about the cold because the warm temperature on the unit is policy come winter time. And Baird cannot stand it.

  Baird thinks about his meeting with Clearwater and Dr. Mull. He doesn’t trust them or like them. They’re not justice and they’re not forensic. Also, they’re mental health people and everyone knows those folks are fruitcakes. Even though Clearwater worked in the facility for years, she was always political and sounded like a damned social worker. The worst. Then, she went off to school for a degree and no one has heard the end of it since.

  Baird thinks the new mental health unit is a good idea though. At least, that’s an opportunity he would have jumped at years ago. He likes the challenging kids. He likes the idea of change. But only if the people involved are good. He knows that accepting an offer from Lana Clearwater would mean he would have to be grateful. Oh so grateful that she could look past all the shit that went down. He is not going to kiss anyone’s ass for that. People either know he’s a good person and a hard worker or they don’t. He refuses to try to prove it to anyone.

  Baird hates that he thinks the unit is a good idea. He bristles now at the thought of letting them know he wants anything. A demonstration of interest or investment in any way is a weakness and you’ll get burned. They will own you. It’s also evidence of naiveté and little experience. If you show your weakness, they can take things away from you. They’ll hold it over you and make you dance. He doesn’t care, but most of all he would hate to think someone thinks he does care. Last year was a mess. Or is that two years ago now? This facility eats time. For the kids and for the staff.

  Baird wonders how many years of self-control and political correctness it will take to erase what happened, even though nothing really happened. His stellar track record before and after does not erase it. And then there is all that chatter about his track record. That past behaviour can’t be erased and he knows it. Everyone knows it. What’s worse is everyone knows and he’s still seen as the favourite. That feels worse. Any advancement looks like evidence of his standing in the Old Boys Club. He likes the club. But, now nothing feels like it counts any more. They should have protected him more. They should have made it go away. He resents how he had to grovel and who had to see it. And now it sits there like a smear. Forever. He knows he is simmering. He feels it just below the surface. He feels it when he controls his facial expressions, when he chooses his words, when he walks through the Rotunda, and when he does his paperwork. He feels it when he second-guesses himself when he banters with staff. How he no longer engages in horse-play with the other staff. No. All that is over. They will never have anything on him ever again.

  Baird sees movement on the yard and he sees that it’s Kenny stepping outside with that little mental health admin woman he sees smoking near the parking lot when he pulls out for lunch sometimes. He sees the two of them surveying the new garden area. He sees Kenny gesticulating wildly. She’s always moving her hands, he thinks. He sees Mara rubbing her arms and waving a good-bye to Kenny. Kenny just stands there looking at the garden. Baird suspects Kenny is standing there because she knows he can see her. He suspects this because of how Kenny does not look around. Everyone at Merivale scans their environment. It is simply unnatural to stand still in the yard and not look for eyes resting on you. It is also dangerous. He knows this and he knows she knows. He glances at his watch and knows she is in no hurry to leave for the day. He shakes his head. She never seems to want to go home. He cannot fathom it. Even now that he’s alone and renting out the basement suite at his cousin’s house, he would never stay at work an extra minute. Never.

  Baird knows Kenny’s married but she never mentions it. And neither does he. He doesn’t want to say “your husband” and doesn’t want to hear her say “my husband.” He doesn’t know why. After several months of knowing her, he had started to speak about his wife. Did he drop her name in order to watch Kenny’s face? Or was he pounding it into his head to ground him? He doesn’t know why, but he felt it would be wrong for him not bring her up. He had brought up his wife anytime he felt especially good when chatting with Kenny. Speaking to Kenny is a timeless adventure. She doesn’t change and she only speaks of things that concern him. It is as though she exists no where but Merivale and a part of him likes it like that. She is also scattered. He isn’t sure he likes it when she is silly. And he does not like it that she touched him the other day. It suggests some
sort of looseness that unsettles him. But she makes him laugh. And that is new for him. He does not find women funny and he distrusts people he considers to be over-educated. He goes on gut instinct, not credentials. It is also new for him to have a relationship with someone in mental health. After the slutty social worker fiasco, Baird thinks that whole department is a write-off. He had ignored them for years. But here is Kenny talking wildly in his ear since …? He doesn’t remember when they had started talking. She had just been another body wandering around the facility. She had been nothing to him. Just a liability. But she likes to speak about treatment. He finds it hard to keep up sometimes, but she speaks so earnestly to him and seeks him out for help and advice and something else he can’t put his finger on.

  “Baird, can you call Allen and ask him to bring us in some coffee tonight?” It’s Cody calling out to him. He and Michelin are approaching. Baird moves away from the fire exit door. Cody takes a look outside and Baird says, “You don’t need to be by the door.”