The Boarding House

by Sharon Sala

  He headed back to the common room, curious to know if Ellie would show up.

  Charlie opened Ellie’s door. “Who’s up for some television time?”

  “Me,” Cin said, and swung her legs off the bed and finger-combed her hair.

  “Me too,” Wyatt said. He intended to check out this man who thought he was God.

  Charlie grinned. “The more the merrier. What about Ellie?”

  Wyatt paused to listen then shrugged. “Nope. Don’t think she’s coming.”

  “I hope that old woman who calls me Charlotte doesn’t come today,” Cin said. “She makes me sad.”

  “She’s easily distracted. Just walk away from her,” Charlie said.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  They turned a corner and came face to face with Aaron. “Hey Dr. Tyler, how’s it going?”

  Ah, Cinnamon’s in the house today. Damn.

  “Just fine, Cinnamon. Ellie not coming today?”

  “I guess not, but Wyatt’s here.”

  “So here we are,” Charlie said, and opened the door. Cinnamon walked in with Dr. Tyler as if they were on a date, her hand through the crook of his arm and a smile on her face.

  Moira saw them come in and thought Aaron had gone to get her. She started to speak when Aaron shook his head and then looked away. Confused, she watched him walk with her to the television, talk to her briefly, then leave her there on her own.

  “What’s going on?” Moira asked. “Why did you bring her here?”

  Aaron shook his head. “I didn’t. I went to my office to check something. I just ran into her in the hall.”

  Moira pointed. “Look at Luther. What do you suppose he’s doing?”

  Aaron sighed then shoved his hands in his pockets. “If I was to make a guess, I’d say he is making a stained-glass window.”

  Moira’s eyes narrowed as she looked again. Luther had just begun using the markers and was making short jerky strokes at the corner of one glass.

  “I don’t see it.”

  But as she continued to watch, it began to appear that Aaron was right. Luther was methodical in his intent, filling in bright primary colors in geometric shapes and then outlining them with a black marker to tie them together. It was then she began to see his intent. None of the other patients showed any interest in what he was doing, not even Ellie Wayne. She was still at a loss.

  “So Ellie is here and Luther isn’t even paying any attention to her.”

  “No. That’s not Ellie, that’s Cinnamon and Wyatt. Wyatt is checking Luther out and Cinnamon is checking out the soaps.”

  “Oh. I keep forgetting about that. Still, Luther would have no way of knowing.”

  “He knew the other time,” Aaron reminded her. “As for the stained-glass window he’s making, in one of Ellie’s sessions with me she told me that when she went to church, she always sat in the pew where the sun came through the Jesus window, which by the way was a stained-glass window depicting the Bible verse “suffer the little children to come unto me.” She sat there so that the sunlight made it appear that the colors were spilling into her lap. She thought God could hear her better there.”

  Moira grabbed Aaron by the arm and dragged him out into the hall so they wouldn’t be overheard. She wanted to shake him.

  “That doesn’t make sense. I know what you’re thinking and you know how crazy it sounds. We’re doctors, and you’re starting to think like a patient. I’m not going to buy into Luther being God any more than thinking he’s in any way connected to God, and I’m not about to believe he ‘knows’ Ellie Wayne because he’s been listening to her prayers.”

  “There’s more. Ellie doesn’t talk to God anymore. She’s mad at Him.”

  Moira backed Aaron against the wall, jabbing her finger into his chest to punctuate every word. “I know damn good and well you do not believe Luther Dunn is God.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then where are you going with all this?”

  Aaron pushed her hand away. “That maybe God moves in mysterious ways?”

  He went back inside, leaving Moira to stew in her own interpretations. He wasn’t about to admit how staggered he was by what was unfolding. He didn’t understand it, but he couldn’t ignore what he was witnessing either.

  He moved to where Ellie was sitting, but could tell by the way she was glued to the television program that it was Cinnamon who was present, so he went to the windows where Luther was working, pulled up a chair and sat down to watch.

  The ends of Luther’s fingers were stained in a mishmash of colors. The intensity with which he was working was almost manic—coloring windowpane after windowpane in perfect detail, aligning colors that didn’t clash within random geometric shapes. Then all of a sudden he stopped. It took Aaron a few moments to figure out that the markers had all run dry.

  Luther gathered them up, dropped them into the sack and then turned around.

  Moira was standing at the back of the room. When she took a step forward, her movement caught Luther’s eye. He went straight to her and handed her the sack.

  “That’s very beautiful. Are you through?” she asked.

  “No. I need more.”

  “Oh . . . I didn’t—” Then she took a deep breath and started over. “I’ll have them here tomorrow.”

  “A lot of them?”

  Moira smiled. “Yes, Luther, a lot of them.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  He started to walk past her when she reached out and stopped him. “Wait. I thought you wanted to speak to Ellie today.”

  The moment the question left her mouth, she knew it had been a mistake. The look in his eyes was somewhere between pained and unflinchingly patient, as a parent would have been with a recalcitrant child.

  “She isn’t here,” he said softly, and walked away.

  Moira’s fingers curled into fists of frustration as she strode across the room to where Ellie Wayne was sitting. “Hi, Ellie, I’m Dr. Ferris.”

  Cinnamon answered without taking her eyes from the screen.

  “Ellie’s not here.”

  “But you—”

  Cinnamon turned. “There’s no one here today but me and Wyatt. Do you want me to give Ellie a message?”

  Moira was too rattled to think. “No, no message.” She saw Aaron watching her. It made her angry all over again.

  It took three days, another twenty-five packs of markers, and a very tall ladder for Luther to finish the window, but when it was finished even the most disturbed patients had taken notice.

  Twelve feet high from windowsill to ceiling, and more than eight feet wide with a perfect cross left uncolored in the center. It was, in a sense, an artistic masterpiece. But for Luther, it was merely a means to an end.

  Aaron had scheduled therapy sessions around this time to watch the drama unfolding. Moira kept popping in and out without speaking to Aaron, but when she found out it was finished, she was curious as to what came next. Like Aaron, she’d come to the common room on the last day to watch.

  Luther came down off the ladder, sacked up the markers, and then cleared everything away from the window. Outside, the day was brutally hot, although it was comfortable inside.

  Luther turned around to face the window.

  Aaron moved a few steps to the right, trying to get a glimpse of Luther’s face. “What’s he doing now?”

  Moira frowned. “The usual. Standing at the window with his eyes closed.”

  “His eyes are closed? He spends four days painting and then steps back to look at it and closes his eyes?”

  She shrugged. “It’s what he does.”

  A minute passed, and then another and another and Moira was about to go back to her office when all of a sudden the sun’s rays scored a direct hit on the window and turned it into something holy.

  The clear glass panes of the cross lit up as if someone had struck a match to them. The surrounding colors brightened as they bled onto the floor. Luther lifted his
arms toward the stunning beauty of what he’d made. He looked like he was glowing.

  “Holy Mother of God,” Aaron whispered.

  Moira’s vision suddenly blurred with unshed tears.

  There was an audible gasp from attendants and patients alike. An old woman started weeping. A man who played checkers with himself every day put his head down on the table and hid his face.

  Cinnamon was sitting in front of the television when it happened. She looked up. Her eyes widened, her lips parted with a silent “aahh” then she turned off the television and stood up.

  “Ellie.”

  Ellie had already made it plainly clear that she wasn’t going to the common room to see some stranger just because he wanted her to. “I’m busy.”

  The timbre of Cinnamon’s voice rose perceptibly. “Ellie. Please. You’ve got to see this.”

  “No.”

  Cinnamon doubled up her fists. “Ellie.”

  Ellie jumped then slapped her hand over Cinnamon’s mouth. “Stop screaming. People are staring.”

  “Let them look,” Cinnamon whispered, then made her turn around. “Look honey. Look at that.”

  Ellie saw the window first, then the cross, then the giant man with long white hair glowing beneath it. He was a magnet and her feet were already moving before she realized she’d taken a step.

  Excited that Ellie had surfaced to witness this, Aaron grabbed Moira’s arm.

  Still pissed at him, Moira started to pull away. Instead of stepping backward, she moved closer, but not of her own volition. What the hell had Luther done, reversed the field of negativity? She didn’t want to be standing under Aaron’s armpit, but she was.

  A trio of nurses had come out of the office to stand spellbound at the sight and Charlie walked up behind Aaron with tears on his face. “Dr. Tyler, what’s happening?”

  “I don’t know.”

  No one knew what would happen next, least of all Ellie. She just kept moving toward the man and the colors coming through the window. “Who—”

  Still silhouetted against the light, Luther slowly turned to face her. His immense size and the glow around him made her forget what she was going to say. Startled, she quickly covered her face as if she’d looked upon something she shouldn’t have seen.

  “Hello, Ellie. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The voice knocked at her soul. She had no other option but to let it in.

  “Do you like the window? I made it just for you.”

  Hearing the voice elicited the same kind of fear she used to have knowing the monster was coming, only this time it wasn’t fear for herself. It was a fear of discovery she wasn’t ready to face. She moaned beneath her breath.

  “Look at it, Ellie. Open your eyes. Face your fears.”

  She wanted to—tried to—meant to—yet couldn’t bring herself to move—never heard him leave.

  It was the sudden sense of being alone that made her look up. She was standing in the light, bathed in a kaleidoscope of colors with her fists clasped against her belly. She lifted her face to the light. “God, was that You?”

  No one answered. It was disappointing, although she didn’t really expect it. He didn’t answer her prayers, so it stood to reason He wouldn’t be answering her questions either.

  “The window is beautiful. Thank you for making it for me, but just so you know, I’m still really mad at you. I guess you know Wyatt killed Daddy. I’m sure you also know I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

  Ellie looked up at the window again, unaware there were tears on her face. “I’m not going to pray. Thank you again for the window.”

  When Ellie turned, she realized everyone was staring. She heard Wyatt whisper in her ear. “Keep your chin up and start walking.”

  “Did you see him?” Ellie asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Who do you think it was?”

  “I don’t know, Ellie, just walk.”

  So she did, all the way to where Charlie was standing.

  “Ellie, is that you?”

  Ellie nodded. “Yes, Charlie. It’s me. I’m ready to go back to my room.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Charlie didn’t say a word to her all the way back, for which Ellie was grateful. When she got to her room, she closed the door behind her then collapsed on the bed, too stunned to talk. It didn’t stop everyone else from talking to her at once.

  Cinnamon was bugging her. “What did he say to you? Did he tell you who he was?”

  Wyatt slipped into protective mode. “Leave her alone. Can’t you see she needs to be left alone.”

  Sophie sat down on the bed beside Ellie. “Atone? Who needs to atone?”

  And beneath the conversation, the baby kept crying in a plaintive and weak little wail.

  “Stop talking. All of you, stop talking.” Ellie pulled the pillow over her head and rolled over onto her side.

  Sophie muttered an apology and politely popped off.

  Cin lay down beside her. “Poor Ellie. We’re sorry. We only want what’s best for you.”

  Ellie threw the pillow across the room and sat up, her face flushed with anger. “Best for me? Exactly what would that be?”

  Cin got back in Ellie’s face, unwilling to let her pout herself back into a funk. “You know exactly what that is and don’t pretend you don’t.”

  Ellie slapped the mattress. “Oh. Right. Pretend none of you exist.”

  “No! Stop pretending we do.”

  “Shut up,” Ellie muttered, then rolled off the bed and strode to the window, desperate to change the subject. “Look Wyatt, it’s clouding up. It will probably rain before morning.”

  “Yes, I see. Remember when we were little how we used to sneak out of the house during a summer rain and run down to the creek to play? How did that rhyme go that we made up?”

  Ellie leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. “Water on my feet. Water on my head. Water, water everywhere except in Wyatt’s bed.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Yeah, that was it. When you get out of here, do me a favor, will you?”

  “Yes, always.”

  “Remember to laugh.”

  As soon as Ellie Wayne left the common room, everyone went back to their usual tasks. By the time their shifts were over, most of them had come up with a logical explanation for what they’d witnessed. They’d already seen too many weird things working in a psych hospital. Colored glass and a trick of the light were surely nothing remarkable.

  Aaron wanted to talk to Ellie, but when he got to her room, he found her lying on the bed with her back to the door. Deciding he would bring up the subject tomorrow in therapy, he left her to her nap.

  Ellie heard him come in, but she no more wanted to talk to him than she’d wanted to talk to anyone else. She couldn’t get the man’s voice out of her head or the message that had come with it.

  Open your eyes. Face your fears.

  Moira was determined to talk to Luther but felt intimidated by what she’d seen. She found a male nurse and then went to Luther’s room.

  But he wasn’t sitting in his usual seat at the window. Instead, he was lying in bed, laid out with his hands folded across his chest and his eyes closed. It was so like a viewing at a funeral home that it gave her a start. She went straight to his bedside to see if he was ill.

  “Luther, it’s Dr. Ferris. Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”

  Luther opened his eyes. “Why must you always talk?”

  A bit taken aback, it took Moira a few moments to respond. “I guess because that’s my job. I ask questions that will help my patients.”

  “Sometimes you need to be still and listen.”

  “Is that what you’re doing . . . listening?”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “What are you listening to?”

  “Prayers. I’m listening to prayers.”

  “Because you’re God?”

  “Because I hear them.”

  Moira opened her mouth.

&n
bsp; Luther opened his eyes. His lips weren’t moving, but she heard his rebuke.

  She blinked and walked out of the room.

  Late that night, after she’d gone home, done a load of laundry and watched a couple of shows she’d recorded on her DVR, she finally crawled into bed. The day had been hot and the cool sheets were a welcome relief. She fluffed up her pillow, stretched out and finally closed her eyes.

  Within seconds, she heard a voice.

  Be still and know that I am God.

  Aaron spent the evening reviewing the earliest videos from Ellie’s case and found one he’d missed earlier. He was surprised to see that it had nothing to do with the molestations. It was a simple home movie of Ellie and her mother, taken at different times when Ellie was just a baby in her mother’s arms. Since all of her trauma revolved around her father and what she’d first believed was abandonment from her mother, it occurred to Aaron that it might be helpful for her to see her mother in a different light. He put the tape in his briefcase, intending to use it during their next therapy session, ordered Chinese takeout for dinner, and drank a half bottle of wine while waiting for it to be delivered.

  Hours later, he lay in his bed wide-eyed and unable to sleep. He’d seen it, but still didn’t understand how a mentally ill patient, colored markers, and a setting sun had turned a wall of windows into a church. Even more disturbing was why it felt like he had witnessed a miracle.

  It began to rain just after midnight, peppering Ellie’s window with the wind-driven drops. When a particularly bright bolt of lightning struck close to the hospital, it lit up her room.

  She woke abruptly. “Wyatt?”

  “I’m right here,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Ellie closed her eyes. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  “For what?”

  “For always taking care of me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I love you, Wyatt.”