Dawn's Tale

by Nicholas Knight

  For the first time, Dawn occupied the solarium unaccompanied; as the other patients had either already retired for the night, or were busy visiting their families. It was that time of the month, where patients were permitted to have a brief, thirty-minute visitation with pre-approved relatives. This meant that the visitors were required to prove with documented identification that they fit the denotation of immediate family, meaning parents, siblings, children, or grandparents. These visits weren’t that enjoyable, as the visitors were forced to endure strict and grueling preparation, before being allowed inside. They were patted down, and everything on (and in) their body, was thoroughly inspected and evaluated. These visits were also supervised, which made them awkward and apprehensive for everyone involved. Fortunately, Dawn didn’t have to deal with this part of the psychiatric incarceration, as she wasn’t about to invite any of her family to come see her. In fact, when she was originally committed, she was given the option of putting her father on the approved list, and chose to decline and surrender that right.

  Dawn Moon had run away from home several months back, and her family members were completely in the dark on where she was or what had happened to her. She was embarrassed to be in the psychiatric unit, but not as much as she was about her last name. Her father had molested her regularly and routinely, since her mother’s sudden passing five years prior. He was an ordained minister, and a respected chief in his Indian tribe. Her mother had been a free-loving, earth-worshipping hippie, who had a particular fetish for the Native American culture.

  Dawn spent the last couple free hours of the evening, in front of the tubular television. She was watching a new, highly publicized, primetime show on NBC called CHiPs, about two California motorcycle patrolmen. As Dawn celebrated this rare, isolated opportunity with a few more swigs of her treasured silver flask, it occurred to her that it was unbefitting and perplexing that the room was professionally referred to as a solarium, when there were no translucent walls, and no solar radiation penetrating the room during daytime.

  Dawn had reclined in the solarium several times before, but never noticed until now, that there were potted plants in the corners, hanging from the ceiling. They looked to be dying from neglect. The intercom called for lights out, and the last of the patients returned to their rooms, while the shift change made its rotation among the staff.

  Reuben stayed up for hours, too edgy and uncomfortable to relax, as he watched the various nurses check in on him, almost too often. He manically scratched his prominent sideburns, like he was a house cat who had gotten into his junkie-owner’s stash of psychedelic acid. Eventually, Reuben caved in, and dosed off, not looking forward to the next day, which he was confident would bring only more of the same.

  Sometime after midnight, Reuben had a disconcerting nightmare, which concluded with him waking up in a glass coffin, in an open grave, in the blazing heat of summer. A crowd of Catholic clergymen gathered around the border of the dug hole, and concurrently pissed blood all over the pellucid lid, while Reuben blared out the words, “Wait, I’m not dead!” over and over.

  October 28, 1977

  Nurse Gregory awaked Reuben just after sunrise.

  “Mr. Peterson?” Nurse Gregory called, standing in the doorway of the observation cell. “Mr. Peterson? Wake up!”

  Reuben’s eyes still stung with watery discharge. Prior to his compulsory registration, Reuben had been long accustomed to sleeping all day, and being up all night. He was definitely more of a night owl, which didn’t seem to coincide well with this new, undesirable situation. Reuben reluctantly opened his eyes, at least the best he could, and made eye contact with the Hispanic male nurse.

  “Rise and shine amigo,” Nurse Gregory said, “Come on. Get up. You’re probation period is over, man.”

  Reuben’s introductory period of constant surveillance had ended. He was escorted to another room, furnished with regular walls and a door that he could use at his leisure. The downside was, he would have to share this space with another male patient.

  Reuben wasn’t keen on the roommate idea, considering his outer shell. Reuben preferred isolation, even alienation, as the outsider had accepted early on that his future only promised rejection and abhorrence.

  The room offered a set of bunk beds, and two small, painted white, wooden nightstands, which had two drawers inside each of them. There was a single shelf just above each nightstand that was both attached to the wall with brackets and screws. This room served as a breath of fresh air, compared to the gloomy cell he had reluctantly stayed overnight in.

  He did notice, however, that there were still no linens on the beds, but only bare mattresses. The room did at least have a light switch, which operated a wall sconce, which was dim, but substantial. Reuben was given a care package, which included a bar of Dial soap, a tube of Ultra Brite toothpaste, two bath towels, and two sets of unfashionable uniforms, which were a depressing shade of baby blue. He was also given a pair of fluffy slippers, which matched the uniforms. There was also a wallet-sized, laminated calendar in the package, which laid out the weekly schedule for Reuben, all of which was mandatory.

  “I noticed there isn’t a toothbrush in here, but there’s toothpaste?” he inquired to the seemingly steroid-injected male nurse.

  Nurse Gregory noticed Reuben’s thick German accent.

  “When you’re ready to brush your teeth each night, you may request a toothbrush and one razor, from the nurse’s desk,” Gregory explained, in a monotone voice, as if reading off a Q-card. “One of us will then chaperone you to the communal bathroom, and observe you until you’re finished, at which point you will be expected to return the toothbrush and the razor to us, by disposing it in a trash bag which we will be holding open for you.”

  “You watch us, while we’re using the bathroom?” Reuben asked, distraught at this unsettling revelation.

  “Only while you are in possession of those items,” Nurse Gregory corrected, as if to attempt to either comfort him or to conceal the facility’s perverted intentions.

  “Still,” Reuben continued, “I wouldn’t exactly call it a dynamite policy. It seems to me that it’s a clear violation of our rights.”

  “Mr. Peterson, let me give you the lowdown...you’ve been committed into a mental hospital. You have no rights anymore,” Nurse Gregory told the physical aberration, “At least not while you’re still with us.”

  Just then, Reuben’s appointed roommate casually entered the room. His hair and face were damp, and had a towel wrapped around his waist, as if it hadn’t occurred to him to bring his clothes along with him, when he made the trip to the communal shower. He had straight short hair, combed to the side, thick sideburns, and a bushy mustache. His bunkmate appeared to be about ten years younger than him, as he coldly brushed by Reuben, without even acknowledging his presence. He whistled ambiguously, while proceeding to shamelessly drop his towel, and put his spare uniform on, in front of both Reuben and Nurse Gregory.

  “Reuben, this is Joshua,” Nurse Gregory introduced them, sensing that it clearly wasn’t going to happen otherwise. “Joshua, why don’t you say hello to Reuben? You’re going to be bunkmates for the duration of your stay here,” Nurse Gregory continued to try and help Reuben start off well in his new quarters.

  Joshua still offered no response or recognition that they were even in the room, but in fact blatantly ignored them at every turn. Reuben looked at Nurse Gregory and communicated, with his eyes, that he wasn’t happy with the situation, to say the least. Nurse Gregory, though not obligated in his job description to do so, went the extra mile, as he could see that Reuben didn’t deserve this.

  “Reuben,” he said, “Um, can I speak to you for a moment out here? I forgot to go over a couple of things with you.”

  “Slammin,” Reuben agreed, putting on phony enthusiasm, to hide his ever-growing depression.

  Reuben stepped out of his new claustrophobic habitat, and Nurse Gregory shut the door behind them, leaving the narcissistic Joshua to hi
mself.

  “Listen, vato,” Nurse Gregory began, “I’m sorry to have to put you with him. If you haven’t noticed, Joshua is kind of a drag. He isn’t exactly the friendliest patient here in the ward.”

  “Yeah,” Reuben nodded, “That seems to be an understatement.”

  “Yeah, well, unfortunately, they don’t give me much authority here. I have to follow orders, like you guys. But, if it’s any consolation to you, you’re welcome to come to me, if you need someone to talk to, or if you have any questions or complaints.”

  “Thanks,” Reuben said, “I appreciate that.”

  “Yeah, well, I know this has to be hard. I can’t imagine how I would handle being trapped in a mental prison like this. Look, gabacho, most of the male nurses here are loco and have their own self-serving agendas, but I was raised to have a little more compassion for people.”

  “I can dig it, Nurse Gregory,” Reuben said, reading the nurse’s nametag. “Thank you. I’m Reuben, by the way. Just call me Reuben.”

  “Gregory Gabino,” Nurse Gregory said, shaking Reuben’s hand. “You’ll be alright, Reuben. Hang in there, okay?” he added, patting Reuben on the shoulder, “Don’t let this situation get you down. You just have to keep on keepin’ on. Watch out for some of these female nurses here. Most of them are puta la judas.”

  The chicano RN walked away, leaving Reuben to get acquainted with his new standoffish cohabitant. Reuben was basically a recluse, and wasn’t gregarious in the least. He had no interest in pursuing social interaction with anyone. He just stood there and watched, as Joshua flamboyantly pranced around the room, as if he were sequestered in a vivid rainbow of seclusion. It didn’t take long for Reuben to deduce that Joshua was gleefully queer, which suddenly made Reuben even more grateful that Joshua had no desire to engage in conversation or interaction with him. Where Joshua seemed to be perfectly content, Reuben grew more paranoid by the minute that he was destined to be maladjusted in his new unwanted surroundings.

  Breakfast wasn’t anything special, and just barely edible, even for those who didn’t share his cursed allergies. The paper plate consisted of flaky, scrambled eggs, a single buttered biscuit, and a side of bunk canned potatoes. Everything on the plate was pointlessly and copiously saturated in a heavy, garlic flavored syrup. Reuben speared the biscuit with the plastic fork, thinking that it might be the one thing that he could manage to salvage. As he raised it off the plate, he watched as the greasy mixture poured back onto the plate, which literally drowned in lard and chemicals. The quality of the food was just below the toxic waste they serve children in American public schools. Reuben looked in detested aversion, as the glycerin-based poison dripped off the side of the flimsy, unstable plate. The ginger outcast wondered how long he’d need to go hungry, as he was thankful that the plates were already set out, before the patients were convened.

  Reuben had strategically chosen a table on the end, where no one else had occupied. Though he hunched, hung his head, and tried his best to be invisible, he could feel the collective stare throughout the room. Reuben wished he had a smokescreen that he could make magically appear, to cloak him from the all-too-familiar loathing he felt in the room full of condemning, superficial strangers. He suddenly missed the unbearable loneliness he had felt at home; as it was far better than the shallow disgust he received now.

  A thick, butch female nurse came around and administered pills to all the patients in attendance. No words were spoken and no directions were given, but it was implied that these pills were to be taken, and that objectionable consequences would follow if they were refused.

  “What is this?” Reuben dauntlessly inquired.

  “Can it and take it, the nasty nurse demanded sternly, denying him the courtesy of an answer, “You have to take one every morning. No questions.”

  “I don’t think it’s too much to ask, to know what I’m swallowing...Nurse Claire, is it?” Reuben added, reading the name off her identity pin.

  “Look, sir, if you don’t take it, I will be more than happy to call Nurse Carl over. Trust me, you’ll take it then. This can happen the easy way or the hard way. Makes no difference to me. No skin off my back, either way.”

  “Fine,” Reuben said, “I’ll take it.”

  Reuben had no intention of taking the pill, but figured it best to lead her on and humor her, so that she would stop nagging him. Reuben went back to poking at his grotesque plate of poison, when he noticed that she wasn’t leaving.

  “Do I look like a maroon to you?” she asked, “Do I look like a deadhead? I wasn’t born yesterday, and I don’t reside in La La Land with the rest of you. You take it now, in front of me,” she demanded, giving Reuben a sinister look and making damn sure he could see it.

  Reuben was hesitant for a moment, but knew if he caused her blood pressure to escalate any further, she would spread the word that he was a troublemaker, and therefore make his stay there even more miserable.

  “Okay, Nurse Claire. Sorry I didn’t listen,” he said as he popped the pill in his mouth, and took a drink from his Dixie cup, “It won’t happen again.”

  “That’s better,” Nurse Claire retorted. “I should hope this wouldn’t be a problem again. Chill, the medication will make you feel good.”

  Reuben waited a few minutes after Nurse Claire had walked away, and once he knew she was out of view, he quickly reached in his mouth and retrieved the pill from underneath his tongue. Holding it under the table, between his thighs, he crushed it into dust with his deformed fingers. As agitated as the homely Nurse Claire had made him, he was strangely relieved to see that she didn’t respond at all to his monstrous looks. As he finished the last of his paper cup of artificially concentrated Apple Juice, he heard the soothing, captivating voice of a seductress. Looking up, he saw a longhaired brunette, much younger than himself, walking into the cafeteria. Her hair flowed behind her, effortlessly and gracefully, as if stepping into a beach breeze.

  “Hubba hubba,” Reuben said to himself, just under his breath, as he tried not to drool over this missing angel of Heaven.

  She was chatting with both staff and patients, as if she was comfortably at home and completely upbeat about her plate. Everyone quit staring at Reuben and shifted their full attention to this stunning vision, which was refreshing for him to have the spotlight placed on someone other than himself. She was beyond beautiful, and could have put every go-go dancer to shame. Reuben was the only one who didn’t drool or fawn over her, at least not publicly. Her uniform pants were pulled down a bit, as to show the tip of her ass cleavage. Every guy in the room took notice of this visual gift right away, and wasn’t about to utter a word of protest.

  “That’s it, mama,” Chad said, just under his breath, “Let it all hang out.”

  She was late to breakfast, yet nobody seemed to mention or dispute it. Reuben tried hard not to scope her, but this became increasingly difficult. Even though everyone else in the mock cafeteria had stared at him, she didn’t seem to notice. Though he would have liked her to see him, he was grateful that she didn’t, as not gaining her attention was much less painful than her anticipated disgust. Reuben watched the girl of his wet dreams sit at one of the more populated tables, noticing that she hadn’t gotten herself any food, but just a Dixie cup of the cheap quality apple juice.

  “Hey, Dawn,” William said, “What’s shakin’?”

  “Hey William,” she said back, “How’s it hanging?”

  William blushed, and politely excused himself, not spiritually comfortable in answering that personal question…at least not honestly.

  Chad, who could never take his eyes off her bitchin’ rump, thought about her ass shaking up and down, back at his pad, while imagining doing her doggy style.

  “Hey, Dawn,” Thomas said, “What’s poppin’? How do you feel?” he asked, expecting some bad news, as usual.

  “I feel fine,” Dawn replied.

  “Yeah,” Chad added, “I bet you do.”

  “Chad,” William cut i
n, “Be cool.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Chad declared.

  “That was uncalled for,” William judged, trying to pose as if he were above lusting after a vision like Dawn, or at least having the self-control to refrain from making such sexual comments or hidden implications.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chad said, getting unnerved. “I didn’t say anything demeaning or derogatory to her. In fact, I didn’t even undress her...I mean address her,” Chad said, completely oblivious that he had said what he had said aloud, in response to Thomas’s initial question.

  William and Thomas both simultaneously watched Dawn, with genuine concern in their eyes, afraid that she was on a slippery slope towards self-destruction, because of her traumatic history. They only knew bits and pieces about her past, from what little she had shared with them, but they had enough pieces to be able to put it together that whatever had happened to her had definitely defined her. She was bitter and desensitized. Though it was no secret among the residents and staff, that Dawn had a reputation in the funny farm, those who cared to see the tormented soul in her optical windows knew that there was much more to her beneath the surface.

  Meanwhile, at a different table, another conversation was taking place, about the new recruit.

  “So, what do you make of that new guy?” Bethany asked, once again sitting alone with her sole friend, Benjamin. “Kind of an eerie looking fry, isn’t he?” She asked her gentle, but dull companion. “He’s no Robby Benson, that’s for sure.”

  “I don’t know?” Benjamin answered, not interested, as usual, “but, I wouldn’t want to mess with him, or bump into him in a dark alley” he added, agreeing that the new guy looked creepy. Like Reuben, Benjamin just poked at his unsavory food, with his plastic spoon, afraid to eat anything on his greasy plate. “This is so grody,” Benjamin said, “Why do they have to smother all of our food in this thick, garlic syrup?”