by Anne Pleydon
Cody sucks his teeth. “Why do you gotta talk to me like that? Is it because I’m brown?”
“Shut up,” Baird says, and they smile at each other.
Cody and Michelin follow Baird into the staff office. Baird can see his partner sitting with the other kids watching the movie. The new kid is in his room. Burrard has a phone call that Baird feels is going on too long, but no other kid is going to ask for the phone while Burrard’s on it.
“So, are you going to call him?” Michelin asks.
“Yeah,” Baird says. “I’ll get on that.”
“We need coffee and McDonald’s,” says Cody.
Baird replies, “We’re not running a take-out delivery for you guys.”
“But it keeps us in a good space,” Cody replies. Baird claps his hands together, chuckling.
“Are you gonna miss me, Baird? I’m getting out in 6 days,” Michelin says, as he stands in the office door.
“Don’t block my view,” Baird says, and Michelin moves. “Six days is a long time.”
“Don’t I know it. You’re not working on my last day though. Are you gonna come in and say good-bye to me?”
“Yeah, right.”
Cody sits in the chair next to the desk with his eyes focused somewhere else in the room only half-listening.
“Have you ever done that?” Michelin asks. “Come in on your day off to see a kid.”
“Would you ever come spend a day here after you get out?” Baird responds.
Cody snorts.
“No way. But it’s not the same for you to be here extra. This isn’t like jail for you,” Michelin says.
Cody joins in. “That’s true. This is like a vacation for you. You get to work with people like us. You get a lot of money. It’s not the same.”
“I can’t wait to get out,” Michelin says.
“Where are you going again?” Baird asks.
“You don’t know?” Michelin says.
“You don't know that? That’s supposed to be your job. This guy could be homeless for all you know,” Cody says.
“We’ll give him bus fare to the closest town and he’s on his own.”
Cody clutches his sides, laughing. “That’s cold.”
“I’m going back to my Mom’s,” Michelin says.
Baird scratches his chin. He notices that he forgot to shave this morning. “What about your grandparents? You were doing okay there for awhile.”
“I’m not going there, especially now that I’m gonna have a kid. They’re too old for that. Plus, I need to relax. There are some things I need to do.”
“Gonna get faded,” Cody sings.
Baird’s eyes settle on Michelin. “You’re gonna be a dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Geez, poor kid.”
“That’s not very supportive, Mr. Baird,” Cody chimes in.
“Nah. He’ll be alright,” Michelin insists.
“It’s a big responsibility,” Baird says.
“I’ll be alright. It’ll be a mini-me. My mom is gonna help. Are you kidding? She’s gonna babysit all the time.”
“Are you with the girl?” Baird asks.
Michelin shrugs. Cody shakes his head. “You don’t even know if that’s your kid.”
Michelin continues, “Cody’s cousin has a kid. He’s in the city. There are lots of kids in my neighbourhood, man. We’re gonna get them all to play together. It’s cool.”
“Which cousin?” Baird asks Cody. He collects information without knowing he’s doing it.
“Noah Farewell,” Michelin answers before Cody can respond. “He’s got a boy, and I’ll have a little boy.”
Cody shakes his head. “That kid’s like 9 or 10. He’s not gonna play with a baby.”
“Hmm.” Baird has lost interest already.
“Yeah, he looks like Eddie though, eh? I think the kid’s mom is Eddie’s sister or something.”
“Yeah,” Cody nods.
Baird stands. “Okay, get back out there.”
“What about Allen?” Cody says, as they shuffle out the door.
“Burrard, phone,” Baird says across the unit. Burrard sucks his teeth and moves closer to the wall with the receiver pressed against his ear.
Chapter 24
THE BOARDROOM ON THE Admin Unit is pale pink and green. Old institutional colours that informed those in attendance that renovations had not reached this corner of the admin wing. The table is too large for a clinical meeting of six people. Kenny does not want to be late and she surveys the room when she enters.
Lana Clearwater sits at the head of the table fiddling with what is known affectionately as the “Star Trek phone” because of its star configuration and multiple microphones. It is only used for conference calls and thus rarely out. No one ever knows how to use it.
Karen sits beside Lana and on the other side of her Dr. Mull stirs a coffee. Stacey is also here with her sunglasses on her head and red-hair held back with a bandana. Kenny takes a chair opposite her and struggles to make eye contact as she doesn’t like that Stacey has had conversations with Lana to which she was not privy.
Kenny says to Stacey, staring hard into her co-worker’s blue eyes, “I didn’t know you were coming in. Don’t you come back next week?”
Stacey smiles. “Oh, don’t look so pleased to see me. I wanted to come in for this meeting. And then, yes, I’m back next week.”
“Now, I wonder what’s happening if you’re coming in for this,” Kenny says.
Stacey shrugs and Kenny envies, for a moment, how much her colleague doesn’t seem to care.
Ron, the Superintendent, and Stevens, the Deputy Superintendent arrive and take their seats. Kenny’s lip curls as she watches them exchange banter with Lana. The Super maintains an air of authority but he also looks like a man on his way out. Kenny thinks Stevens is weak, mild, and smiling like a jackass.
Lana says, “I’m going to get Janet from Policy & Programming to join us.” Kenny recalls Janet as a grey haired thin woman who has been visiting the unit the past couple weeks and asking Mara to find all the old policy binders for her.
Janet is finally on the line and laughing as though she just got off a roller-coaster ride. “I’m through? Hello!” Then her voice is immediately prompt and business-like as she asks everyone in the room to introduce themselves.
Lana has an air about her as though she has already completed some grand task by simply gathering everyone at this meeting. She addresses the group and says, “This is the first of several sub-committee meetings to come where we’ll discuss the impact of the change-over in terms of clinical programming. I’ve invited the clinical team because no one knows more about what’s happening clinically at this facility than they do. I think it’s important we get an idea of what programming we currently offer and how that might change. I would also like to have preliminary discussions about creating a clinical unit. Janet will be instrumental in developing the policy around that. There is going to be a lot of work to do in terms of program development. Does anyone have any questions before we begin?”
Kenny has a hard time maintaining a neutral expression. She senses this makes her attitude appear worse than it is, as she never adopts a neutral expression. She is uncertain where to look.
Lana continues, “But first, we need someone to take notes. We can discuss having admin as a part of these meetings at some point, but for now we’ll do this ourselves. Kenny?”
Kenny starts in her chair. Involuntarily, she looks at Ron, then Karen, and then Stacey. They stare blankly at her and Ron’s jaw twitches. Kenny says, “You want me to take notes?”
Lana says, “Yes. We’ll all alternate. You can go first.”
Kenny slowly pulls out a sheet of paper and dates it. She waits for someone to protest her assignment, but the room is silent. She concentrates on putting the names of those in attendance on the top of the sheet. She is afraid her face is flush red. Her eyes smart with tears.
She resolves to remove herself from the scene. She must exit her body now. She is not here. During the meeting they start to talk about clinical programming. Kenny knows all the answers and does most of the clinical work at Merivale but no one notices that she is not responding. She is passive and jots down notes and does not contribute otherwise.
Kenny suddenly says, “One of the most important things we’ll need are info sessions for frontline staff to understand what’s happening.”
Lana says, “That’s not relevant to what we’re talking about here.”
Stevens surprises Kenny by coming to her defence and says, “Now, now, it is relevant because I have staff asking a lot of questions about the role of mental health here after the Ministry rolls in. People are hearing rumours of a clinical unit. Change is hard for some staff here.”
Ron, the Superintendent, straightens his back at the mention of what he likely considers Justice business. “Their job won’t change. They’ll be expected to do what they do.”
Kenny says, “It won’t change? What about the use of discipline and restraints in the clinical unit?”
Lana says, “We’re really getting off topic here.”
Ron says, “The staff are trained to do what they need to do. And they’ll do it.”
The meeting continues on. Lana mentions bringing in consultants to design the unit, as well as hiring new frontline and clinical staff. Kenny feels overwhelmed by the monstrosity of the task at hand. She’s finding it difficult to visualize so doesn’t understand how Lana thinks this can be done. As agenda item by agenda item is crossed off, Kenny realizes that this work will mostly fall on an outsider, a non-Forensic person, unless she takes it on herself. And she would not be able to work independently. Who are all these people? Policy people. Justice people. Health people. Children’s Services people. All of them putting in their two cents about how this clinical unit should run. What the fuck do they know? Kenny bites on the back of her hand briefly and then wipes her mouth. She thinks, Dr. Mull can’t design a treatment unit! He doesn’t know the first thing. And the headache from the frontline staff. These people have no idea how terribly this will be received by them. They hate Lana. They hate Dr. Mull. They hate the Ministry. How is all this supposed to get done while still seeing Justice kids? Who is going to do all this work? She sinks into her chair feeling like she missed the last bus going home. Somehow all of this was being organized without her. She knows she didn’t jump when Lana asked her to jump. And now, she is being left behind. Shut out. Forced out.
Somehow, Kenny continues to writes the meeting minutes. She continues to skate along the edge of passive-aggression and helpfulness as the meeting goes on. When they finally wrap up, Stacey calls out to her, “I’ll see you, okay. I have to pick up the baby from my mom’s.”
As Kenny rises from her chair to leave, Lana is beside her and says, “May I give you a little feedback?” Kenny closes her eyes for a second and clenches her jaw.
Lana says, “When you spoke with Ron, you were really informal.”
“About what? The programs that have failed in the past?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve known each other for years. Ron has no problem with how I spoke to him.”
“Well, I just think you should keep in mind that you’ll draw more bees with honey.”
Kenny remains silent.
Lana continues, “Now, when you were speaking about the ethics of victim reunification in family treatment, I felt you had more to say there.”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember,” Kenny says.
“I thought it was good. You should speak up more.”
Kenny blinks. She is livid. A part of her knows what Lana is doing. She knows that the ambivalent, unpredictable feedback is designed to make her uneasy, but also beholden if Lana praises her. Kenny can hardly take a breath because her stomach feels so tight. She says nothing except, “Okay.”
As Lana wraps up the long extension cord from the Star Trek phone, Kenny points at her paper on the table. “Here are the notes.”
Lana says, “Thank you for doing that.”
Kenny turns on her heel and leaves. She feels her face burning and eyes shiny again and hates herself for it. She shakes from desire to kick Lana Clearwater in the gunt. The sound of her laboured breathing fills the hallway as she reaches the Mental Health Unit. She is grateful that Mara is not there. She marches straight past the admin’s desk and out on to the yard for some fresh air. She almost trips on a gardening glove right outside the unit door. She scoops the glove off the ground and slams it into one of the oil drums.
“Shit,” Kenny says. She immediately retrieves the glove as she doesn’t want to leave it out on the yard. Fuck these drums. Why is they so goddamn close to the Mental Health Unit, anyway? Fuck Lana Clearwater, and fuck her new initiatives that she never asks anyone about. Kenny looks around the yard. It’s empty. She puts the one glove on. Her eyes bore into the oil drum. She puts her hands on the top rim and pushes. Nothing. She braces her feet and shoves the oil drum. It wobbles slightly and as it falls back into place, Kenny instead puts her weight into it and yanks the top of it toward her and to the side. It topples it to the ground.
Chapter 25
IT’S JUST AFTER 7AM and Kenny meets Frank in the parking lot as he’s leaving Merivale. He has his coat slung over one arm and he twirls his car keys around one finger. “You’re starting kind of early, Doc,” he says, as he looks at his watch.
“No rest for the wicked,” she says. “Did you have a good night?”
Frank stops and shifts the coat on his arm. “Same old, same old.”
“Well, that’s good. You don’t want too much excitement. How are my boys?”
“Cody got some room time.”
“For what?”
“He’s lucky he didn’t lose his gardening and garbage.”
“What happened?”
“One of those oil drums was found on its side. Someone pushed it over. Cody took responsibility the minute staff confronted him. You know how they’ve been trying to pick those damn things up and throw them around.”
Kenny examines Frank’s face. “Cody said he did it.”
“Well, first he said some staff might have lost their mind and done it because we’re all crazier than the kids. But, then he said he must have left it like that. Doc?”
“He just got room time?”
“He didn’t mean anything by it. But, we shouldn’t have those things out there, anyway.”
“So, you did have some excitement after all.”
“Not much can excite me. But, can I ask you something?”
Kenny finds herself holding her breath. “Yes.”
“Are you going to be in charge over there?”
Kenny feels caught off guard. “Over where?”
“When they have the new clinical unit.”
Kenny puts her hand up. “No way.”
“Oh, I kind of thought you were already in charge.”
“It’s not me. Dr. Mull is the Clinical Director.”
“Who’s that? The old guy?”
“Yes.” She frowns. “That’s going to be a whole other nightmare. Staff are gonna hate it.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t you think?”
“Ah, it’ll be fine.”
“You think so? You know they’ll go nuts. They don’t like change.”
“It’s always the same here. They went ape-shit when we had girls. And they all freaked out about not working with them and not restraining them.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, that was a huge problem. Then, the girls came, and it was like they were always here.”
“And now they’re not.”
“Yeah, well, the girls’ facility opened and they left. But, it was a big deal back then. Shit, it was a big deal when they took the kids’ smokes from them.”
Kenny laughs.
“Oh yeah,” he conti
nues. “When I first worked here, they were allowed to smoke.”
“How was that ever okay?”
“I don’t know. It just was.”
“But the units have no open windows.”
“Oh, I know. I swear some days when I came in for a night shift there was like a 3-4 foot cloud of smoke hovering from the ceiling. It was blue. One night I couldn’t take it. I radioed School Control and the OIC and told him I was opening the exit door and not to think it was fire. I had to let it out.”
“I can’t believe you worked in that.”
“And the day before the policy kicked in, it was like ‘smoke ‘em if you got ‘em’. I almost passed out. And I was a smoker back then.”
