Left In Good Spirits

by Anne Pleydon

  Dr. Mull walks by the student office and returns to his office. This time he closes the door. Laura listens for awhile more and then turns to her computer. She clicks to open a new word document. She hesitates for a second. She wants to please her new supervisors. It must be alright if they’re asking her to do it. It’s true she has felt a bit unappreciated of late. And, she is worried about Dr. Halpin. She starts typing.

  Chapter 34

  KENNY DOESN’T KNOW HOW long she’s been sitting in her office. Her body feels heavy. She recognizes that she does not have a single thought on her mind. There is a vast emptiness. Her phone rings. She blinks. She picks up the phone.

  “Yes.”

  “Doc, it’s Frank.”

  “Hi.”

  “I have a couple kids on the unit wondering when you’re going to see them. I know you do regular appointments. Like I thought Helmcken was on Tuesdays but I know it’s been touch and go there for a bit. Is that still happening?”

  Kenny squeezes her eyes shut. None of this feels real. She wonders, Is this really happening? Is someone asking me about clients, right now? Why is everyone coming at me? Can’t I get away from these people?

  Kenny says, “Yep. I’ve just been really slammed with some programming stuff and youth court.”

  “Okay, do I tell him you’ll see him today?”

  “I can’t. But definitely next week. I feel like, I feel like that’s the safest thing to say.”

  “Alrighty. And I’m going into a case conference on Cody and we need an update on his check-ins. He said he wasn’t sure he was doing it anymore because he hasn’t seen you lately. The meeting’s tomorrow morning.”

  “Geez.”

  “I know. Well, you know the kids, out of sight is out of mind.”

  “I’ll send you a brief update via email for your case conference.”

  “Aren’t you going to attend?”

  “I just can’t. Things are a bit … I’m just so busy.”

  “That’s okay, Doc. You can only do what you can.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Kenny puts down the receiver. She presses her hand to her mouth and bites the back of it. She likes the feeling of her skin between her teeth. It seems it would be so easy to just bite down until her teeth ground against the bone. The casual questions about work feel like blades across her skin. Is any of this really happening? She wonders, Does it all just go on and on. As though nothing has even happened to Daniel?

  Kenny looks out her window. She has always thought of nothing but work when she’s at work. And now, all she can feel is the emptiness of home. She decides she must focus on the facility and on the yard. Focus. It’s decidedly winter now. The boys tend to stick to the plowed track these days. They don’t like the institutional boots. Also, they’re not allowed to pick up snow. Kenny stares at the boys out on the yard. She stares with no expression. Another batch of them. On average, they have been in and out of Merivale how many times? She thinks: It is a conveyor belt of delinquent youth moving through a factory that tags them, pasteurizes them, and packages them, and then tracks them. And then they break and are returned. But, maybe we never put them back together to begin with. Or maybe we keep distracting the consumer with the latest processes and advertising and manufacturing, but it’s the same old product. Borne out of society’s need for it.

  There cannot be a society without jails. It is one of the most lucrative industries in the world: corrections. And it will never die. It is the one career with the most job security in the most trying of economic times. There will always be a public who wants to get tough of crime, who maintains hope for rehabilitation, and who feels more sympathetic of the young. Maybe Cody was right. He pays her. Kenny’s thoughts align with Cody’s on her darker days. She knows she has burnout when she thinks about how she makes her money on the backs of these youth in cages. I don’t exist if they don’t exist, she thinks and she is disgusted by her part in this archaic regime. It’s a regime as old as time itself to separate the degenerates from the ones in power and deprive them of their freedom in the name of punishment, public safety, and moral rehabilitation. Kenny knows these jaded thoughts visit her every half year or so. These thoughts that make her feel like a parasite. Every time she is experiences burnout she feels she has realized the truth for the first time and believes this awareness will last forever. Nothing I do matters.

  An email pops into Kenny’s inbox from Lana Clearwater entitled re: revisions. She clicks on it without removing her other hand from her mouth.

  The email says, “Kenny, I would like to discuss your feedback on the programming. Can you please come by my office this morning?”

  Kenny looks down at her hand that is red from her teeth. She wipes her hand on her pants. She rises and walks slowly through the Mental Health Unit and past Mara’s desk. Mara says, “Kenny, are you okay?”

  Kenny looks at her admin without saying anything. And Mara says, “Do you think you should even be here?”

  “I’m not seeing any kids today,” Kenny replies and leaves the unit. She walks toward the Admin wing and wonders if her face has always felt this heavy. It is as though even her eyes are shifting at a slower tempo. How did these hallways become so familiar? How many times has she reached and clasped her hand around her fob? What tiny mechanism inside flashed the red light to green? The click. The sound of the door releasing. She is allowed to pass through it.

  Donna sits at her desk. Her red fingernails clicking on the keyboard. Lana’s office door is closed. Kenny leans at the counter. Donna glances up. “Yes, hon? Are you doing okay these days?”

  “Lana wants to see me.”

  Donna phones Lana and says, “Go right in.”

  Kenny finds it curious how little feeling she experiences when she knocks on the door. Her heart beat feels slow and quiet. She wears some kind of shell around her that deadens the noise and the colours. She looks at others as though through a camera lense that is somewhat askew, and black and white, that is recording the situation.

  “Come in.”

  Kenny opens the door and does feel something now. A small sneer almost plays on her lips. She relaxes her mouth and takes a chair.

  “Kenny, how are you?”

  Kenny shakes her head and lifts her shoulders as though she is bewildered. “Fine.”

  “I want to talk to you about your feedback, but more importantly I wanted to check in and see how you are doing.” Lana leans forward, resting her enormous arms on the desk.

  “Feedback?”

  Lana stares at Kenny for a moment and then looks at a document on her desk. “Okay. The ideas for the clinical programs. I think this looks good. But you have jumped the gun on a few other things that we need to wait for our committees to comment on.”

  “Like?”

  “You have drafted mission and values statements.”

  “The program can’t exist without a mission.”

  “Right. But this is something that would go through another channel. It needs to go through the Ministry and frankly this is something that you can’t comment on or speak to until such a time.”

  “How would they know what our mission is?”

  “Kenny,” Lana starts.

  Kenny asks, “How do we proceed without a philosophy or orientation? How will we know what our purpose is?”

  “We all know what our purpose is. That is clear. To rehabilitate these youth. I don’t want to see these missions and values statements on any more documentation that you’re circulating to the committee members or staff here. Just do your job and work on the programming.”

  “What else?”

  “We are thinking of designating one of the empty units as the clinical unit by the end of the month and transferring youth to it at that time.”

  “Transferring them from where?”

  “There are a couple suitable youth from Merivale but we will also be taking youth f
rom the two other youth custody centres in the province who have been identified as having significant mental health disorders.”

  Kenny’s eyes widen. And then she laughs and then falls silent. Her face becomes motionless again.

  “What is it?” Lana asks.

  “In a month. There is no behaviour plan developed for the unit. Are we using the same one from the rest of Merivale?”

  “Certainly not. The whole facility will be getting a re-vamping and our unit will be the pilot for a new way of doing things.”

  “I don’t understand how you can transfer youth into a unit with no programs or behavioural management plan. What are the staff supposed to do?”

  “Kenny, these are experienced staff. I trust they know what they’re doing”

  “Hopefully, they’re experienced. I wouldn’t want auxiliary in there.”

  “Well, that might be the case in the beginning. We’re looking at cutbacks in the new fiscal year and we’re not receiving extra money for this unit until then.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means there will be one staff on at night with a rotating staff from other units to spell off staff on breaks. Things like that.”

  Kenny shakes her head. “Wow.”

  “Yes, so if you could start looking at some kind of behaviour management ideas, that would be great. I have some other people working on it as well. We’ll have a meeting about this next week to see what people have come up with.”

  “This is huge. You can’t just design it in a matter of months. Things like this take years to develop.”

  “We don’t have years, Kenny.” Lana sighs and moves her papers to the side. “If you’re not interested in participating then you need to let me know.”

  Kenny is silent again.

  Lana says, “Kenny, I want you to take some time off.”

  “What?”

  “It’s important that when you are here it’s because you want to be here and can be excited about what’s happening here. I think it’s important you look after your health.”

  “I don’t want any days off.”

  “I’m aware that something deeply personal is going on with you. I’ve tried to reach out to you but you wouldn’t see me. I’m sorry about the loss of your husband. How can we best help you during this time?”

  Kenny stands up. “I’m fine. I’m not seeing any kids this week. I have things to read and do, and it helps me to keep busy. I’m not doing anything unethical by being here.”

  “I’m sure there are things you need to be taking care of.”

  “I can do that from my office here. It’s easier. Believe me. My work won’t suffer.”

  “And your ability to be available to your student?”

  Kenny cocks her head. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m concerned that you’re not listening to what I’m saying to you.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me. Can I go now?”

  “I trust you’ll make the right decision. Please let me know what you’re going to do. Or I might have to make that decision for you.”

  Kenny shrugs. “I guess.” And she leaves the office.

  Kenny is surprised to feel hot tears streaming down her face as she walks back to the Mental Health Unit. She is a stranger in her own home now. She can’t even remember the first time she walked through these hallways. How can it all seem so familiar and yet alien? Untouched. There is no evidence she has ever been here. This is the glass that McDonough spoke about. This whole building is a glass of water. And she feels like she is on fire.

  Chapter 35

  KENNY STANDS IN THE Man Trap waiting between the doors to be buzzed into the facility. Her shoulders are slightly elevated and her head is cocked to one side and bent slightly forward. Her mouth is tense and her gaze unfocused. She moves closer to the door and looks into the lobby. She inhales. She closes her eyes as she exhales through her nostrils. Then, she looks at the staff in Front Control. Wolcott chats with Dunny. Suddenly, Kenny slams her hand against the door. Her wedding ring makes a loud bang.

  “Come the fuck on!” Kenny shouts. There is a hint of surprise and then irritation in Wolcott’s face. She does not want to break eye contact first but she does. Not out of fear of crying but because she still wants something from him. She is buzzed through.

  Kenny walks toward the Rotunda. She hears a voice. “Good morning, Kenny.”

  Kenny wants to ignore the older woman but shifts her body toward the cafe. “Hi, Rita.”

  “Was it jammed?” Rita asks, motioning toward the Front Control doors.

  “No, they were just being pricks,” Kenny says.

  Rita lifts an eyebrow.

  “It’s nothing,” Kenny says. And then, “You’ve been here a long time, eh?”

  “Yes, since it opened.”

  “You must see people get chewed up and spit out a lot.”

  “You have to know how to get along here. Not get bothered by this stuff. It’s not for everyone.”

  Kenny nods and pushes away from the counter. “Later, Rita.”

  Kenny passes through the lobby and into the Rotunda. Her eyes flicker over the staff at School Control. She keeps her distance and fobs her way into the Admin/Mental Health wing. No one is on the Mental Health Unit but it does not keep her from glancing in every office on her way to her back corner. She flicks on her computer and opens her calendar. There are appointment times for youth she needs to see. She moves them to tomorrow. She stares at the online calendar and then deletes the appointments. She checks her email. More emails from Lana Clearwater and the policy woman requesting meetings for committees and drafts of programming. One of Lana’s emails is a draft of the clinical unit’s future schedule. Another email announces that Unit 4 will be taken over as the clinical unit and there is a list of potential youth in the facility to be moved over there. Another email is a posting for a Clinical Unit Supervisor that closes in two weeks as well as a posting for a Clinical Lead on the unit. Kenny shakes her head. She will have to apply for it if she wants it.

  Kenny opens a new email and addresses it to Karen, Stacey, Mara, Janet, Ron, and Stevens. In it, she writes that she will be stepping back from the committee meetings and clinical unit programming as she cannot support the rushed unit opening with no programming, no behavioural management plan, and lack of mission statement. She writes that rushing it could cause potential safety risks. She writes that management is under-estimating the specialized skills necessary to work with these youth. She writes that the turnover is creating a rift between frontline and clinical staff that no one seems to be addressing. She says she is tired of being seen as the figurehead of the new ministry and clinical unit changes. She closes her email by stating she is not going anywhere but no longer wants to take point in developing the unit.

  She clicks Send.

  Chapter 36

  MCDONOUGH LEANS BACK in his office chair to stretch his back. He takes off his ball cap to run his fingers through his hair and puts the cap back on. The phone rings and it’s the Sheriff telling him who they are bringing over. He had heard rumours all day and now it was confirmed. He puts the phone down and sees Kenny move past his office. “Doc,” he calls out. Kenny turns and comes into the office.

  McDonough quickly surveys the psychologist’s pale face. “I didn’t think we’d see you today.”

  “Why? Have I been fired?” She gives a weak smile.

  McDonough’s mouth forms words of condolences but then he changes his mind. He watches her take a chair and then stare blankly at the monitors.

  “What’s up?” she asks. “Anything exciting?”

  “Our boy, Michelin is coming back in this afternoon.”

  “Geez.”

  “And that shooting in Red Box Car Bar a couple months ago. It was Marco they shot. I told you that, right? Looks like they’re finally rounding people up for that.”

  “I don’t … remember knowing it was Marco who was s
hot.”

  The OIC nods. “Yep, it was going to be an attempt murder but he died a week or so later.”

  “Do we know who did it?”

  “A group of them. Word was Cody was one, maybe, when he was out. But there’s no charges against him. Probably Eddie, too. But I haven’t heard anything. They picked up Noah Farewell and some 17 year old. He’s coming here.”

  Kenny sits up. Her mouth drops open. Her eyes are wide. “Noah’s coming here?”

  “Well, the kid is coming here. Farewell’s an adult now.”

  McDonough watches Kenny. He can tell she is at a loss for words. Her face is flushed and then all the blood seems to drain out of it. She stares hard at the floor. He sees her hands shaking and hears her swallow. “Farewell’s in jail?”

  “No, he was released on bail.”

  “How?”

  “Money,” the OIC says, shrugging. “They’re not going to get anyone to cooperate down at the shit hole anyway. Even if they have the witnesses in protection. They must not have much on him if they let him out on bail.”

  Kenny is on the the edge of her seat. Her hands wide and palms up. Her hair falls across her face. “Why would he do that?”

  “Why do these thugs do anything they do? Beef. Control of the drugs.” McDonough feels unnerved by what he thinks is an over-reaction to this news.

  “I didn’t …” Kenny swallows again. She puts rubs her fingers across her forehead. “I didn’t even know he was in town.”

  The OIC frowns. “He never left.”

  McDonough hears Kenny’s breathing quicken. He worries she’ll start crying or something. He adds, “Hey, these kids get into all sorts of trouble when they leave here.”

  Kenny stands up with one arm tucked across her waist. Her other hand wraps around her throat. Her expression is far away. “Fuck.”

  McDonough is done with this conversation. He cannot imagine expending this much emotional energy when simply finding out a Merivale kid broke the law on the outs. He rubs his thighs and stands up. “Nothing you can do about it, Doc.”