Dawn's Tale

by Nicholas Knight

  “Phooey,” Kenneth said back, “If you have a foxy lady in your room, she’s either plastic or her name’s Mary Jane.”

  “Get bent,” Chad said, in response to Kenneth’s continual ridicule.

  The reading selection was fairly lame, mostly composed, and consisting of, cheesy romance novels and book three of a science-fiction series. There was a copy of the Holy Bible, which nobody seemed to want. There was also a copy of both the Book of Mormon and the Quran, which everyone passed by as well. Reuben found a copy of Alex Comfort’s book, The Joy of Sex, and quickly grabbed it up, before the others noticed that it was even in the mix. There was a large stack of Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous pamphlets. It was getting close to dinnertime, and Reuben grew restless for something, or anything, to make him forget the hunger that stalked him so acutely.

  “You’re not going to pick a book, for this week?” Reuben asked, directing his question at Thomas. “There’s got to be one here, with some pictures in it,” Reuben noted, not to wisecrack, but to just try and be helpful.

  “Are you kidding?” Thomas clamored, “I can’t remember when I had my last tetanus shot, and that rollaway cart is metal...and old metal at that. What if I accidentally brush my hand up against the rust spots, and break the skin?”

  Thomas had upset himself so much, just thinking about hurting himself on the cart, and therefore exposing himself, and making himself more vulnerable, to the likelihood of more health problems, that he lost his balance, fell back on his chair, and hit the ground, simply due to his over excitement.

  “No thanks,” Thomas said, as he lay sprawled on the floor, on his back. “Great,” he said, “Now I think I broke something.”

  Reuben excused himself from the art enthusiasts and wandered over to the dining section, where he witnessed the kitchen staff putting out little bowls of lime flavored Jell-O mold, with shredded carrots inside, and Cool Whip on top. He also saw them bring out paper plates topped with cardboard quality pizza, which was undoubtedly soaked in liquefied garlic. Shaking his head in foretold disillusion, he was about to return to his room, when he noticed that they had set out a silver coffee urn. It only dispensed decaf, and no creamer or sugar was offered as a condiment, but at least it was something he could consume that was safe. They had also set out a soda fountain, offering five brands of pop, RC Cola, TaB, Bubble Up, Strawberry flavored Rondo, or Black Cherry Donald Duck soda, all of which had been watered down, to save money.

  “Are you going to finish your plate this time?” Nurse Monica said with a smile, as she practically snuck up on him.

  Reuben jumped slightly, as she startled him. “Um, actually, I’m contemplating on maybe skipping supper, like you suggested. The limited menu selection doesn’t look any more appetizing for this meal,” he replied, as he helped himself to a cup of black coffee, to carry back to his room. Nurse Monica noticed that he had The Joy of Sex tucked away under his arm, the whole time they were talking.

  “You know,” Nurse Monica said, “it would be much easier to pour that cup of Joe, if you just put down that book you’re carrying,” she said, with a smile on her face.

  Reuben, embarrassed, pretended he didn’t hear that, and began to walk away from her.

  “If you need help with your studying,” she said, “let me know. I can make a great tutor.”

  As Reuben walked back towards his room, he saw Joshua in the corner, kneeling down, holding a couple of Lincoln Logs in his hands. He was fervently rubbing them together, moving them faster and harder against each other, as if he was trying to somehow ignite a fire with the imitation wood. As Reuben walked passed him, trying not to make eye contact, Joshua briefly stopped what he was doing, just long enough to glance up at Reuben with a stare of hateful bias. Reuben wondered if maybe he had more in common with his disturbed roommate than he realized. Reuben wasn’t queer, by any means, but he could relate to having sexual frustration...and understood how such bottled up, untended needs could result in such a display of anger or even lunacy. Perhaps they both needed to get laid?

  Hours later, around three in the morning, Reuben laid wide-awake on the bottom bunk. His fabulously gay roommate is in the bed above him, resting like the dead.

  Reuben had been busy fondling himself under his pants, to the arousing thoughts of the girl whom he felt to be the one he had unknowingly longed so long for. He hadn’t been able to sleep, because he was no longer serene or satisfied with being unwanted and unloved. She had changed all that with just an accepting glance and a warm smile.

  Though he didn’t yet know her name, she had charmed his hardened heart, and he wanted her so intensely, that his passion for her temporarily made him forget that she was beyond his league and could never feasibly return his obsessive hunger.

  Getting out of bed, he walks to his door, and slightly cracks it open, just enough to look down the dingy hallway. Though the hall was somber, Reuben had strong night vision, and could see that there was only one overnight nurse on watch, and she had fallen asleep on the job.

  Keeping as quiet as he could muster, he slowly made his way to the girl’s room, as he began to hear muffled moaning, which got clearer as he neared her coveted door.

  Looking through the corner of her window, he sees her on her knees blowing a male nurse (one he hadn’t officially met or been introduced to), who is sitting on the edge of her bed. The nurse was a buff, steroid-injected goon, and his hands are on the back of her head, pushing and guiding, while his eyes are shut.

  Since the nurse’s head is tilted backward to the ceiling, and her shagadelic head is preoccupied with what her mouth and throat are doing, Reuben’s spectating isn’t seen by either of them. Though it understandably upset Reuben that she was blowing someone who wasn’t him, watching her in action drove him crazy.

  October 29, 1977

  Reuben was awoken earlier this morning, to attend his first group therapy session. To his dismay, Dr. Aaron would be the one moderating these sessions. Before officially launching the session, Dr. Aaron started off by telling the group that they needed to believe in a Supreme Being in order to conquer and overcome their depression. He delivered this short sermon, as he was holding a copy of the Holy Bible on his lap, which looked like it had never been opened or read. This was irritating, not because any of the patients had any burning hatred for God, but because it was no secret that Dr. Aaron was no man of God.

  “Okay,” the smug hypocrite initiated, “Let’s go around the room, and take turns speaking. If you don’t want to talk, I won’t push it. But, I’d like everyone to at least introduce themselves, as we have a new member joining us. It looks like we’re all accounted for today, which is nice to see. Some of you have been skipping, which you know we object to, which doesn’t help your rehabilitation or recovery. Why don’t you set us off, Chad,” he said to the patient on his left.

  There were nine patients in attendance, and they all sat in cushioned, folding metal chairs...all except for Kenneth, who was exclusively allowed to sit in a recliner, being as he was just too obese for the human-sized chairs. They were all arranged in a circle, with Dr. Aaron, one of the many head psychiatrists on staff, at the helm, to lead the session. As instructed, everyone would go around the room, taking turns sharing their stories. Most would simply keep it basic, announcing their first names, and briefly disclosing why they thought they were there. Most of them ranged from their mid-twenties to just older than Reuben. Reuben was expecting most of them to speak of disturbing, taboo fantasies about their mothers, or psychotic, haunted hallucinations of dead loved ones; or perhaps surprise revelations that some of them were chronic bed wetters, cheating sociopaths, survivors of alien abduction, pathological liars, or textbook multiple personality disorders. In any case, Reuben couldn’t have begun to prepare for what would actually come to be.

  “Well, my name is Chad. I’m...well, I’m not going to say my age. Age is just a number anyway. I’m here because I was arrested for streaking in public, and then laying n
aked in the Wendy’s salad bar.”

  “And?” Dr. Aaron nudged Chad, prodding him to share more than he was willing, about what led him here.

  “I’m told I have what’s called schizoaffective disorder,” Chad continued. “This means that I see what’s not there, hear those who aren’t there, and I also have a tendency to get paranoid, and confused in my speech and thought process,” Chad elaborated.

  “Thank you,” Dr. Aaron said. “Very good. Okay, Benjamin, give us the skinny.”

  “I’m Benjamin. I used to be awkwardly shy. Still am, to a point, I guess. I’ve been told I’m anorexic, though I don’t see that as being the case. And, I’m told that I have a lack of enthusiasm or eagerness for activity...a condition they like to call melancholia.”

  “Thank you...” Dr. Aaron started, trying to move on to the next patient.

  “This is my hip friend, Bethany,” Benjamin said, interrupting Dr. Aaron and speaking for Bethany, who was next in line to share. “She’s very sweet, but very fragile. She doesn’t like to be in crowded areas, or enclosed, uncontrolled spaces with a lot of people. She also doesn’t like to be touched.”

  “As we can all see, Benja...” Dr. Aaron tried to interject again, only to yet again be cut off.

  “Don’t laugh at her,” Benjamin continued, “It’s not her fault. She suffers from Anthropophobia, which makes her scared of people.”

  Dr. Aaron waited a moment, to make sure that Benjamin was done, before proceeding.

  “Thank you, Benjamin,” Dr. Aaron said. “As we can all clearly see, Benjamin also has an overprotective personality.”

  “I’m Reuben Ian Peterson...or RIP for short. That’s what my parents would call me. They came to this country from Germany, as you can probably gather from my accent. And, no, in case you’re asking yourselves, I don’t have any connection to the Nazi Movement.”

  Thomas blushed in embarrassment, as Kenneth gave him a guilt-trip look, as if to silently say I told you so.

  “I know you all have also noticed that I look strange, unreal...even sick” Reuben continued, with his elbows resting on his knees, and his eyes facing the floor between his feet, which were spread apart. “Some have even said I look like a monster. Well, there’s a reason for that, and to my regret, it’s beyond my control. I was born with a blood disorder, that’s very rare, and very detrimental to my health. It’s called porphyria, and is what makes me look like this. That being said, I’m here because I tried to kill myself,” Reuben shared, running one of his hands through his red, shoulder-length, straight hair. “I’m told I have PTSD...otherwise known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which I owe thanks to both God and my parents for that.”

  “O-kay,” Dr. Aaron said, as if not sure how to respond to that, “William, can you share with us?”

  “I’m William. My name is William. I’ve been accused of being a bible thumper, which is offensive to me, because I would never dream of doing that to a Bible, or any book, for that matter. I have what they call bibliomania. Apparently, I’m a huge fan of collecting...or what they call hoarding...too many books. Like that’s some zappy crime.”

  “William doesn’t simply collect books, but he collects so many that his wife left him, because there was no room in the house for her or her things. He also doesn’t acquire them to read them, but just to stick on the shelf and gawk at,” Dr. Aaron added. “That being said, I have a great deal of respect for William, as he may be sick, but he clearly loves the Lord,” Dr. Aaron said, winking and smiling at William, to show his unwavering support.

  “I also lost my job, because...” William began again.

  “You lost your job?” Chad asked, attempting to be funny. “Did you look for it?”

  Dr. Aaron just shook his head, holding his forehead as if to imply he was feeling a migraine coming on.

  “Fine,” William rephrased, “I got fired from my job, because of my disease. I had missed too much work, because of my alleged, so-called obsessive-compulsive attention to my collection.”

  “Thank you,” Dr. Aaron said. “Thank you for sharing with us.”

  “My name is Thomas. I was diagnosed as being a neurotic hypochondriac.”

  “No shit,” Kenneth remarked, with insolence.

  “People think I think that the world is out to get me, and that I’m going to die from anything and everything,” Thomas said, choosing to ignore Kenneth’s brazen scorn.

  “Thank you, Thomas,” Dr. Aaron said, as he turned and looked at Kenneth, expecting more of the worst from him.

  “I’ll pass,” Kenneth said, shrugging off his obligation to the pack.

  “What’s wrong, Ken?” Reuben asked. “You can dish it out, but when it comes to talking about yourself, you’re a pansy?”

  “Come over here, and say that to my face, string bean!” Kenneth exclaimed, referring to his skinny arms, offended and embarrassed that Reuben had the nerve to insult him in front of the group.

  “I thought Joshua was the pansy?” Chad said, not realizing that Reuben referred to the coward definition, instead of the sissy meaning.

  Joshua grinned in pride, as if complimented by the unintended homosexual label.

  Reuben didn’t react, but simply continued to look at Kenneth, showing him that he wasn’t afraid of him, by not turning his eyes away.

  “Come on, you freak! Come over here and say that again, and see where it gets ya!” Kenneth shouted again, not weakening his threat.

  “Okay,” Dr. Aaron intervened, “That’s enough. Reuben, you shouldn’t have said what you said. Kenneth, you don’t want to be in a real prison tomorrow, do you?” the doctor asked him, speaking to both of them like they were little children.

  Kenneth began to calm down, agreeing that he didn’t want to be transferred to an actual maximum-security penitentiary. Kenneth was the one patient there, who was court ordered to be there. It was either there or prison, for him.

  “That’s better,” Dr. Aaron said. “Now, Reuben, would you like to apologize to Kenneth?” he asked, still speaking to Reuben as if he were six-years-old.

  “Not particularly,” Reuben answered honestly. “I think he should share his story with the class. The rest of us did. I think it’s only fair.”

  Dawn smiled at him, impressed with Reuben’s display of courage, and with the way he had stood up for Thomas. Reuben picked up on her smile of approval, which only encouraged him more to show off for her.

  Kenneth’s heart rate began to accelerate again, and his high blood pressure began to escalate more so than before, as he looked at Reuben with a mean streak just waiting to erupt.

  “Kenneth,” Dr. Aaron said, “I must agree. Reuben is quite correct. It is your...”

  “Actually, why don’t I do it for him?” Reuben interrupted, “Hi, my name is Kenneth. I’m a hot tempered know-it-all who just doesn’t know when to put that damned spoon and fork down.”

  “Don’t forget bipolar,” Benjamin contributed.

  “Yeah, he’s definitely polar,” Chad agreed, “but the bi part remains to be seen,” he said, laughing.

  “Ooohhh, that was a major burn,” Benjamin said, joining in on the joke, at Kenneth’s expense.

  “That’s it!” Kenneth said, getting up out of his privileged recliner and running towards Reuben. The rest of the group just watched in utter awe, as Reuben amazed all of them by not getting up out of his chair to avoid a beat down. Instead, Reuben just sat there, calm and smiling, as if he was either the poster-boy for fearlessness or just simply welcoming death. Dr. Aaron blew on his whistle, which he had threaded on a lariat, that he kept around his neck and tucked securely under his overpriced, plaid dress shirt and long, white lab coat. Security couldn’t arrive fast enough to stop Kenneth’s oncoming stampede. Just as help came into the room, Kenneth pulverized Reuben, by ramming into him, with his goliath-sized body, causing Reuben to not only forcefully fall backwards, but be knocked clear across the room. Before Reuben could get up, or even collect his thoughts, Kenneth had strad
dled him, nearly crushing him with his elephant-like weight.

  “Do you want a hertz donut?” Kenneth asked Reuben, while sitting on top of him.

  “What?” Reuben asked, in an already confused state.

  Kenneth put his fat hand underneath Reuben’s shirt, and grabbed his right nipple, only to twist it with force.

  “Hurts, don’t it?” he said, laughing, amused with himself and his bullying ways.

  Nurse Carl and Nurse Gregory came rushing over to Kenneth, and stuck him with a hypodermic needle, drugging him with a strong sedative, and giving him a dosage high enough to put a wild stallion to sleep. They quickly pulled him off of Reuben, who was now gasping for breath.

  “What do you want us to do with him?” Nurse Carl asked Dr. Aaron, “I don’t think he’ll fit in a strait jacket.”

  “Just lock him up in the observatory room,” the doctor ordered, “Let him cool off in solitary for the rest of the day.”

  After the male nurses had hauled Kenneth off, Dr. Aaron looked at Reuben with a stern look of disappointment.

  “Mr. Peterson,” he said, “That was not helpful. Nothing is ever solved by deliberately antagonizing a hot head like Kenneth. We all know he’s a ticking time bomb. You’re not helping matters any by egging him on.”

  “Reuben’s cruisin’ for a bruisin.’ Reuben’s cruisin’ for a bruisin,” Thomas said, in a somewhat delayed response to what had just taken place between Kenneth and Reuben.

  “Copy,” Reuben agreed with Dr. Aaron. “I’m sorry.”

  “That being said,” Dr. Aaron continued, completely caught off guard, not anticipating that Reuben would admit he was wrong or apologize for it, “I will not tolerate violence in this ward. Hence, why I’m punishing Kenneth.”

  There were only two patients left who hadn’t shared with the group. It was finally going to happen. Reuben was finally going to get to hear her story...the gorgeous, buxom, shapely, brunette bombshell that he couldn’t get out of his already troubled mind. This is what Reuben had been anxiously awaiting. He would finally get to know about this owner of his passion. He was impatiently eager to not only unveil what category of mental illness she represented, but to learn as much detail about who she was, as possible.