by J. R. Tate
I start for the door, but when I open it, two cops greet me on the porch. I try to shove past, but as expected, they are able to block me from getting anywhere. Anna hands them a paper and they look over it.
“Signed by Judge Archer. We’ve got it all squared away to get him to Sunset Canyon for treatment immediately,” Anna says, looking back at me with sympathy in her eyes. “We are here to help you, Nathan.”
I’m not able to get through the cops, so I turn on my heel and start for the kitchen. I make it almost to the back door before I crash to the floor. One of the cops is on top of me, and within a split-second I’m handcuffed and restrained. I kick and thrash, trying my hardest to get him off me, but he’s got almost fifty pounds on me and he’s healthy.
“Sir, I advise you to stay still. We’ve got a judge’s order to take you in for treatment.”
I grit my teeth. “Am I under arrest?”
“No. It is a magistrate’s order which means it’s for yours and your family’s protection.”
There’s no use in fighting it. They have me right where they want me. I might as well comply so they can actually see the truth when I don’t respond to whatever hell they’re going put me through at Sunset Canyon. The cop helps me to my feet and guides me toward the front door again. I stare at Rose as I pass by and she is still unable to look at me.
“Just wait, Rose. You’ll see. If this is what it’s gonna take for you to see what is really happening to me, then so be it. You think about the shit I’m going through when you’re at home in our bed.”
The cop doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else, and shoves me outside. The cuffs dig into my wrists, but it’s just a small discomfort compared to what I’ve gone through and what I’m about to experience next.
I zone out during the drive over, and we get there before I know it. I’m not even sure what I should be feeling. I’m nervous, but I’m so angry with Rose and my father that the only thing I can think about is how they have completely ruined my trust.
The outside of the facility looks like a typical asylum. The architecture is gargoyles and something you’d see in Gotham. The trees and grass are well trimmed, and there are even flowers in the flowerbeds. Maybe it is there desperate attempt at trying to make it look more inviting, but to me, it is hell on earth, and I haven’t even stepped through the doors yet. The sign outside reads Sunset Canyon Mental Health Facility. In laymen’s terms, that means insane asylum, but they have to be politically correct.
The cops park near the admissions door and help me out, but keep me in restraints. We are taken to the admissions desk where apparently, they were already expecting me. The nurse has paperwork with my name all over it ready to go. Lord knows how long they’ve all been planning this against me.
“Mr. Gallagher?” The nurse waits for me to respond, but I’m busy watching the cops. They sign another piece of paper and leave. Their job is done. They must enjoy pawning crazy people off at the doorstep. I’m not their headache anymore. “Mr. Gallagher?”
I want to correct her and tell her I’m Lieutenant Gallagher, but I bite back my tongue. I don’t want people knowing I’m a firefighter. I probably won’t be after this whole ordeal.
I finally acknowledge her and she slides some paperwork toward me. I’m still in my handcuffs, but I’m able to hold a pen. I hadn’t noticed the security guard standing close by. I guess it’s necessary to have their own security staff.
“What’s this?” I ask, looking over all of the fine print. I’m levelheaded. Did they expect someone who was actually insane to do this?
“It’s a consent form. We won’t release your records to anyone if you don’t’ want us to, but if there’s someone specific you want on there, now’s your chance to allow them access, otherwise, everything that is happening will be kept private.”
“Even with my employer?”
“Yes, even with them.”
I find that hard to believe. With the type of job I have, mental health is important, but I don’t press the matter. I’m not in the mood. I contemplate the form. Do I want people knowing?
“Are you married, Mr. Gallagher?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes people put their spouse or parent on there, but you don’t have to. We won’t even tell them if you don’t want. It doesn’t work like other medical records. These are protected even more.”
I hold the pen, ready to write, and face a dilemma. I’m to the point where I don’t want Rose knowing anything about me, but at the same time, I want her following along every step of the way so she can see that whatever treatment I’m about to get isn’t working. That would be the only reason I’d want her having access. Yeah, that would be a good reason why.
I jot her name down and sign it, sliding the clipboard back to the nurse. I look down the hallway, trying to get a better glimpse inside, but it’s impossible. There are so many hallways and doors, it’s like a maze. The security guard hasn’t taken his eyes off me. It’s likely the other cops informed him of my resistance, and I’m sure they’ve flagged me as a potential problem patient.
“Okay, Mr. Gallagher, I think we’ve got you squared away. Josh is one of our orderlies. He’s going to escort you to Dr. Clint’s office.”
“Why do I need to go there?”
“It’s your initial assessment with us. It’s to track progress in your treatment.”
Josh approaches me, and the security guard isn’t far behind. “I don’t need to be assessed. I don’t even need to be here. The cops followed the judge’s order. Can’t you say I came and now I can go?” I’m trying hard not to panic, but the shit is getting real. I’m about to be taken into the hospital with no idea of when I’ll be able to see daylight again. “I’m gonna be wasting everyone’s time.”
The nurse flashes a strained smile and hands the clipboard to Josh. “Tell that to Dr. Clint, Mr. Gallagher. That’s what he’s here for.”
The security guard closes in on me and grabs my arm. I pull away, but the handcuffs don’t allow me to do much else. The way I see it, it’s my last chance to get out of here before it’s too late. How is this even legal? People don’t get forced to go to medical hospitals. Why is this different?
Acting fast, I head-butt the guard and am able to knock down Josh, the skinny kid who probably won’t last at this job anyway. I hobble toward the door I just came through, feeling confident that I’m about to make it out when again, someone tackles me from behind. I feel the needle puncture my side and my body instantly stops flailing, despite the fact that I’m trying to keep moving. It’s like I’m in quicksand.
“Mr. Gallagher, calm down. Everything is going to be okay.”
It’s the last thing I hear before I give in and pass out.
***
Rose
“Rose, do you need anything?” Jack places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I can make some tea or coffee.”
I’m so nauseous and upset that tea doesn’t even sound appealing. “I’m okay, Jack. I just need to process all of this.” I wipe my nose with a tissue, still feeling an adrenaline rush from the events of the morning. “I can’t get Nathan’s face out of my head. He was really hurt that we did that to him.”
Jack grabs the teakettle and fills it with water, ignoring the fact that I’ve declined it. He looks out of the kitchen window and folds his arms over his chest. I know he feels bad too, even though he hasn’t admitted it.
“It feels like a rotten thing to do, Rose, but what else could we have done?”
“I’m not sure what to tell Rusty when he gets home from school.”
“You tell him the truth.”
Jack finally sits down and eyes a picture of Nathan, Rusty, and me that I have on the refrigerator. We came back to the house after Nathan was taken away, partly because I couldn’t stand to be there, and partly because I wanted to be in the comfort of my own home after something like that.
“He’s gonna be angry. He thinks I’ve betrayed Nathan by not stand
ing by him.”
The teakettle begins to whistle, and Jack pulls two mugs from the cabinet, along with some tea bags, and pours the hot water over them. He scoots one of the mugs toward me, and the aroma wafts toward me. Maybe tea will settle my stomach.
“You’ve gotta look at it this way. Had we not done anything, that’s betraying him. How long could he have gone living like that? It’s just been a couple of weeks and look at how he is. It’ll all start becoming clearer when Nathan gets on medication and things get leveled out. It’ll take some time for both him and Rusty to see it, but it’s like Nathan has this fog around him right now. Once it starts lifting, everything will appear differently.”
I’m surprised at how smart Jack is. I regret all of the years of not getting to know him, but there is so much in his and Nathan’s past that will take years to rekindle, especially now. I’m glad he is here now. He could’ve easily turned his back again.
“I guess I just want instant results. I want Nathan to walk through that door right now and be back to the way he was. All of this is gonna drive me insane too.” I take a sip of the tea and it is perfect. The caffeine helps alleviate my headache.
“When does Rusty get home from school?”
I look at the clock on the stove. “Any time now.” Butterflies shoot through my stomach, and the nausea is back. “He’s so much like Nathan, I can already tell you how he’s gonna react.”
“Do you think I should be around for it?”
“That’s a good question. I’m thinking, since he doesn’t really know you, it’s probably best that you’re not. I don’t mean that rudely, but he’s already on edge. Is that okay, Jack?”
He nods. “Makes perfect sense to me. I better get going. Call me if you need anything or if you hear anything, okay?”
“I will. Thanks so much for your help. You’ve been a godsend.”
“I might’ve not been here for Nathan like I should’ve been, but I’m here now. I’ve lost another son and a wife. He’s really all I have left.”
I walk him to the door and swear I see tears in his eyes, but he’s quick to look away and hide it. Waving, I close the door and take a deep breath. If hospitalizing Nathan isn’t hard enough, telling his son what we did is going to be ten times worse.
I finish off the tea and put the mug in the sink. My heart skips a beat when I hear the door open and turn to see Rusty. He’s already very angry with me, so it’s like an act of congress to get him to even stay in the same room with me.
“Rusty, we need to talk. Can you please join me in the living room?”
He’s halfway up the stairs, but much to my surprise, he doesn’t put up a fight and comes back down, throwing is backpack on the floor. He doesn’t sit next to me, but in the chair where Nathan usually sits.
“What I’m about to tell you isn’t easy, Rusty. I want you to think about it before you react, okay?”
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
“We had your Dad put in the hospital today.”
He lets out a sigh. “He finally decided to go?”
I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. We had to call the crisis line and intervene. But he’s safe at Sunset Canyon. They’re gonna get him some therapy and some medication and get him better.”
“So dad still didn’t want to go?”
Here’s where the outburst will happen. I brace myself as I think of what to say. “No, he didn’t want to. It was against his will.”
“How can they do that? People refuse medical treatment all the time.”
“Yes, Rusty, you can refuse medical treatment, but psychological treatment is a bit different. He was a harm to himself, and possibly to others. I don’t really understand all the laws, but everything we did today was legal.”
“A harm to others?” Rusty stands up and his fists are balled. “Dad would never hurt anyone. You think he’d do something like that?”
“He’s sick, Rusty. Things going on in his brain aren’t what he’d do in a normal situation. Please don’t be mad. We did this to help him. We want him to get better. You want your dad back home, right?”
He starts toward the stairs. “I want him home more than anything. I want this all to go away. But Mom, you know what?”
“What?”
“If you put him there because of him hallucinating, you better put me in the bed right next to him, because I’ve seen it all too.”
I’m caught off guard and before I know it, he’s slamming the door to his room, leaving me in shock on the couch. It can’t be true. He’s rebelling because of what I’ve done to his dad. It’s his way of getting back at me. No, my son is not going through this too.
He can’t be, can he?
Chapter Ten
Nathan
“I think he’s waking up.”
“He’s been out a few hours. Let’s go get the doctor.”
I hear the voices, but it sounds like they are in a tunnel. Slowly, I open my eyes. What is it with the light feeling like a nail driving through my skull? It’s so bright, and my eye sockets ache. I try to rub my face, but something is preventing me from moving my arms. I try to jerk them away from my body, but whatever has me restrained is tight, or I’m just extremely weak.
I fight through the pain and fully wake up. It feels as if the sun is beating down on me and I have no clue where I am. I am on the floor, and I look down to see that I’m in a straightjacket. You’ve got to be kidding me. A straightjacket? How did I get here and what happened to make them do this to me? It’s like I’m waking up in the middle of a horror movie where I’ve been kidnapped and locked away to be tortured.
I slowly start to remember bits and pieces of what has transpired. Some kind of worker had me arrested. Rose and my father were there. I vaguely remember signing some paperwork and that’s all I can remember.
I scoot across the floor and make it to the far wall and sit against it. Of course the walls are padded. Wherever I am, it fits the cliché of a place where they throw crazy people, from the straightjacket, to the padded walls, to the dull white color that surrounds me.
I lick my lips and my tongue feels like sandpaper. I can’t remember the last time I had something to drink or eat, but I’m not hungry anyway. I have lost all sense of time and without windows, I can’t tell if it is night or day. I know the ordeal at my dad’s house happened in the morning, but who knows how long I’ve been passed out and drugged up.
I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. I know I could sleep more, but I’m terrified, and my mind is going a mile a minute. I feel like I’m stuck in a fog and that my body weighs a thousand pounds.
The door on the far wall creaks and a man in a white coat steps inside. He’s balding and has a beard – typical psych doctor at its finest. I bet he’s a Freud fan just by his appearance. He has a clipboard in his hand and finally looks at me as he approaches.
“Mr. Gallagher?”
I don’t say anything. He knows who I am. With as dry as my throat is, I doubt I can talk well.
“I’m Dr. Clint. I’m going to be assessing you and getting to know you a bit. I’ve been hoping you’d wake up soon. I’d really like to talk to you.”
I adjust my weight and am getting more annoyed with the straightjacket by the second. I hate not being able to move around and if they think I’m going to cooperate, they’re stupid. “Your name is Dr. Clint?” My voice cracks and I cough to clear my throat.
“Everyone around here calls me by my first name. My name is Clint Sanderson.”
“You’re okay with that?” I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I feel snarky, so why the hell not? I’m sitting here, vulnerable, in a padded room for Christ’s sake. Who the hell cares?
“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”
I shrug as best as I can and the metal on the jacket clanks. This is the first time I’ve been put in one and I feel like I’m going to suffocate. “Doctor’s are usually assholes. Most wouldn’t think it was respectful to do it.” I’m no
t sure why I’m trying to get a rise out of this guy, but it’s going to prove harder than what I thought, especially since he laughs at my comment.
“I’m not an asshole, Nathan. Can I call you Nathan?”
“Well then I wouldn’t want to be construed as an asshole either, now would I?” I’m shocked to hear myself laugh considering the situation, but it quickly fades. It’s hard to be happy when I think about what Rose has done to me. “And just for the record, I know that you’re analyzing me. You’re watching every tick I have, everything I say, everything.”
The corners of Dr. Clint’s mouth turn up in a smile as he jots something down. “You think you got the place wired, don’t you, Nathan?”
“This how you treat all new arrivals? Jab a needle in our side, chunk us in suicide watch, and let the drugs do the hard work for you? Thorazine at nine AM, lobotomy at noon? That on your schedule for me?”
Dr. Clint finally sits across from me. Finally, it appears I have gotten somewhat of a rise out of him. His smile isn’t quite as bright and he takes a deep breath before responding to me. “Look, Nathan, I’ve read over your information. It’s obvious you’re an intelligent man. I know you have preconceived notions of what a psychiatric hospital is. You’re not the first patient I’ve had who goes off of stereotypes, and you won’t be the last.”
I rest my head on the wall. The padding is actually quite comfortable. “So far you’ve proven me right. A padded room and a straightjacket – isn’t that the start of a psychological thriller? You ever see Shutter Island or that Jack Nicholson movie? I wanna be like him. I wanna take you people head on.” I try to snap my fingers as I think of the title. It’s amazing how people don’t realize how much they use their arms until that is taken away from them.
“One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” Dr. Clint replies. “That’s the problem with mental health. Hollywood does a fantastic job of stigma, rather than accepting it as a real problem just like diabetes or hypertension.”
“I have hypertension. What I don’t have is whatever you’ve got written on that paper right there.” I motion toward it with my head. “I’m not sure what you want me to tell you, Doc. You want me to bare my soul so you can slap a diagnosis on me? Not gonna do it. I’ve told the person who matters most to me in this world and she turned on me. How the hell do you expect me to do it to a man I’ve just met, who drugged me up without my consent, and is now sitting here like he’s my best friend?”
