The Institution

by Kristen Rose

Mid-afternoon. The sun burns through a thin layer of clouds halfway up the sky, reflecting off a black Mercedes Kompressor streaming down a long deserted highway. The car approaches a run down, isolated shopping complex on the side of the road and begins to slow. At a glance, a second hand clothing store, an un-modernised post office and a small Mexican restaurant stand out. The car arrives at the entrance and turns gracefully into the parking lot.

  The black vehicle parks outside the restaurant. The elderly owner of the clothing store at the other end of the complex stares curiously out of his shop window. He observes a man wearing a dark blue suit with blonde hair exit the vehicle and casually walk over to the restaurant called La Fiesta.

  Marcus Verdad enters the restaurant through the glass panelled front door, a chorus of bells chime above his head giving away his presence. He closes the door softly and scans the empty dining room. He takes a seat at a table in the far left corner of the dining area facing the door and waits, tapping his foot to Spanish music blaring out of several speakers around the room. The restaurant predictably decorated; coloured with bright oranges and yellows with some reds, greens and blues splashed around in contrast. Sombreros dangle from the ceiling, caked with dust. Small pots of fake cacti decorate every table and bottles of tequila are splayed in racks all over the walls; each one matted with cobwebs. The surface of every table is covered in tiles the size of postage stamps just as colourful as the walls; thick wads of grime fill the gaps between each tile. The rustic wooden chairs accompanying each table are rough and splintered. Verdad takes in the contents of the room, smiling. When a deep voice from the other end speaks he doesn’t move a millimetre.

  ‘Mr Verdad, I’m surprised to see you today.’ A man walks over to Verdad’s table. ‘Is something important happening?’ The man is fitted in a black waiter’s apron. He is young, tall and muscular; his face thick and his eyebrows dark.

  ‘Hardly,’ Verdad crosses his arms. ‘Just a meeting with a stupid wimp who refused to meet with me at night. But, I have to speak to him so I guess it is somewhat important. When he gets here, do your best not to disturb us won’t you. I don’t need him feeling any more uneasy.’ Verdad scans the man, taking in his large frame.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ The man slips his hands into his pocket with a fake pout.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just, you can come across as a little overbearing sometimes and this man appears to scare easily.’

  ‘No problem.’ He shrugs. ‘What if we get a customer?’

  ‘When was the last time we got a customer?’ Verdad laughs, leaning back into his chair.

  ‘Good point, but you never know. A hungry, lost tourist who hasn’t learned of our reputation might wander by. A good looking young female would be preferable.’ The man grins.

  Verdad lets out another stiff laugh.

  ‘Quin, I think you need to get out of this restaurant a little more. Take the night off.’

  ‘What? Seriously? What about needing to stay open the hours we advertise so we don’t appear ... suspicious?’ Quin says the last word quietly.

  ‘Yes, well, everyone needs a break now and then. Go on, you’ve been doing a good job. I think I’ll be safe giving you and Gord one night off, don’t you?’ Verdad smiles casually.

  ‘Yeah. Thanks Mr Verdad, I’ll go and let him know.’ Quin turns, whistling to the music.

  ‘Okay, but don’t bother coming back out here to tell me what he says, my guest has just arrived.’ Verdad calls, staring through the glass door. A portly man with greying hair and a moustache is slowly getting out of an old silver Honda. Quin quickly exits the room.

  The man outside begins to creep towards the restaurant; searching the car park simultaneously. When he arrives at the front door he slowly pulls down on the handle and pushes it open. The bells attached to the top of the door jingle melodically, startling him. He glances up to identify the source of the noise, a beam of sunlight shines through the clouds outside lighting up his forehead, revealing multiple beads of sweat.

  ‘Mr Granger.’ Verdad calls. The man jumps again, not having noticed Verdad sitting in the far corner of the restaurant. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fff, fine, thanks ... Mr Verdad.’

  ‘Please, come and sit down.’ Verdad gestures to the chair opposite him.

  Granger slowly edges his way to the table, his senses alert. He scans the vacant room, apprehensive. When he arrives at table he pulls out the wooden chair opposite Verdad, it grinds along the terracotta tiles. He sits down, the chair creaks loudly. He blushes.

  ‘Can I offer you anything to drink?’ Verdad smiles.

  ‘No ... thanks. I’m okay.’ He gulps.

  ‘Alright. Well … Let’s get down to business then.’ Granger gives a short nod. ‘When you rang me yesterday you said you had some information in regards to a Miss Jennifer Barns, right?’

  Granger clears his throat loudly. ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m sorry, I’m a little nervous.’ He presents an apologetic expression.

  ‘Oh? Why’s that?’ Verdad smiles again.

  ‘Well, I’m not really sure if I’m doing the right thing. This is technically breaking the law.’ He shuffles awkwardly backwards.

  ‘That depends on whether or not you believe in the law Mr Granger. If you don’t believe in the law, then how can defying the law be breaking it?’ Verdad places his hands on the table, intertwining his fingers.

  ‘That’s a strange philosophy to have.’ Granger says, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket.

  ‘Yes, well, it certainly hasn’t done me any harm.’ Verdad laughs faintly.

  ‘I see.’ The words come slowly out of Granger’s mouth. He moves his handkerchief up to his forehead, mopping up every trace of sweat. ‘But, you have to promise me that what I tell you today doesn’t leave this place and that I won’t get into trouble.’ He whispers the last sentence.

  ‘Believe me Mr Granger, the only person with any likelihood of getting into trouble is Jennifer. Now, you implied you know where she is. Do you?’ Verdad’s eyes eager. Granger gives a few short nods then slowly closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens them again. ‘Okay. So, where is she?’ Verdad presses.

  ‘I had no idea who she was until I saw your ... add ... the other day. I’ve always thought there was something odd about her, something ... Her situation, well; it doesn’t make much sense really. I’m a psychologist, so I have, you know, a good idea of how people should behave. Sometimes she behaves like someone in her situation should, other times, well ... she’s normal, until of course I guess she realises it and then goes back to acting the way she’s supposed to.’

  Verdad’s forehead creases. ‘Mr Granger, I don’t think I really understand what you are going on about, you seem to have missed a critical point in your explanation.’

  ‘Sorry, I guess I’m not explaining this very well. You see, I recognised Jennifer from the photo you posted on the internet, but I don’t know her as Jennifer Barns.’ He leans in closer towards Verdad.

  ‘Right ...?’

  ‘I know her as Jennifer Parson. She’s one of my patients.’ He whispers.

  ‘One of your patients?’ Verdad’s forehead remains creased.

  ‘Yes. I’m the psychologist in charge of treating personality disorders at Grove Hospital for the Mentally Ill. I’ve been treating Miss Parson or I guess I should say Miss Barns for almost seven years.’

  ‘What? You are kidding. Seven years? Are ... are you sure this is the same Jennifer?’ He stopped. ‘No, you must be mistaken.’ Verdad told him, shaking his head.

  ‘I’ve brought some photographs of her from her file, take a look.’ Granger takes a few small head shots out of his tattered grey coat pocket and shakily hands them to Verdad. He takes hold of the photographs and slowly examines them, his entire face drops.

  ‘My god. This ... this is her. I ... I don’t believe this. She can’t be ... What is she doing in a mental institution?’ Verdad turns pale.

  ‘So, you didn’t
know there was something wrong with her?’ Granger is astounded.

  ‘No! The last time I saw her she was as sane as you can get. What’s wrong with her?’

  ‘She has been diagnosed with a narcissistic personality disorder.’

  ‘Narcissism? What, you mean she’s in love with herself?’ Verdad hands back the photographs forcefully.

  ‘That is one of the symptoms, yes. But, with her extreme case though, her self-obsession has developed into something quite unique. She makes things up about herself to try to appear more important, she insults people; she has no emotions at all. She isolates herself, and she could care less about what anyone that she thinks is unimportant thinks of her.’ Verdad squints. ‘And lately she’s become a little aggressive towards others. My colleagues say it’s the worst and strangest case of narcissism they’ve ever come across.’ Granger’s discomfort begins to fade.

  ‘Your colleagues think that, but what do you think?’ Verdad leans forward.

  ‘Well ... I think she’s faking it.’ He spits out quickly. ‘But, no one else does and I have no way to prove it. I don’t even know why she would be faking it. When I saw your add reporting her missing, I had to contact you. I know I’m her doctor and it shouldn’t be any of my business but I just can’t help wondering what the truth is. I’m not stupid. I can tell she’s hiding something.’ Verdad sits in silence, contemplating.

  ‘You know, the entire time she’s been there she hasn’t had a single visitor. No family, no friends, nothing. Now, wouldn’t you think if someone was concerned or worried about her they would visit? I don’t know anyone who would not care if someone they knew was sick. The only contact she has with others is by letters that she appears to send to her parents, but, no one knows if that’s where they actually end up, and we’re not allowed to read them or check up on the address because writing letters is supposed to be a private privilege. An individual outlet for the patients.

  ‘As far as I’m concerned,’ he continues, ‘she’s just pretending to have contact with the outside world. I started to wonder if anyone, aside from her parents, knew she was there.’ He pauses. ‘Recently I’ve become more concerned about her so I’ve been researching. You know, trying to find out anything interesting about her past. I’ve tried contacting her parents recently but the details we have on file aren’t current and the address Jennifer writes to is a PO Box which is listed as private. That’s when I stumbled across your add reporting her as a missing person and calling her by a different name. I’ve begun to think maybe no one else does know she is there.’ Verdad remains silent. He sits back in his chair, his brow creased with thought.

  ‘All this is a little strange.’ He finally says. ‘Why would she check in under a false name?’

  ‘I don’t know. The only solution I have is so that no one would be able to find her there, but, why would it matter if anyone found her?’

  ‘And you’re sure her parents are aware she is there, she hasn’t just pretended they know she’s there?’ Verdad leans into the table again.

  ‘Well, it was supposed to be her parents that were responsible for making her seek help at Grove Hospital. And, not long after she arrived a whole heap of her personal belongings came that were apparently sent via care of her parents. I also conversed with them via email before she was admitted, and a few times afterwards but eventually they started ignoring my emails and I gave up.’

  ‘And they’ve never visited her?’ Verdad stares into Granger’s worried eyes.

  ‘Never.’

  ‘Has Jennifer ever received mail from them?’

  ‘No, she never gets mail, just sends it.’ There is a hint of exhaustion in Granger’s voice.

  ‘This is strange. You know, Mr Granger, I have been looking for Jennifer for the last few weeks and her parents were the first people I went and contacted. They still live in the same house they lived in when I first met Jennifer ten years ago. It seems rather unusual you’ve had trouble trying to get hold of them. They told me they haven’t seen or heard from Jennifer since she left town seven years ago. The say they don’t know where she is. Are you sure it was her parents that you conversed with in the beginning?’

  ‘Well, no, but ... who else could I have spoken to? Do you think maybe her parents don’t even know she’s there?’ Granger’s eyes widen with shock.

  ‘Well, it sounds like that could be a possibility. As far as I know, they’ve never been the type of people to blatantly lie.

  ‘Anyway, thank you for all of this ... interesting information Mr Granger; it’s been more than useful.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I know I’m supposed to keep all information about my patients confidential but ... well ... your add said any valuable information would be rewarded and I’m unfortunately a little behind on the bills and my wife has been badgering me about going on some silly holiday ... I really could use the extra money.’ He shifts uneasily in his chair.

  ‘No need to explain yourself Mr Granger, I know as well as any man about the importance of money and nagging women.’ Verdad smiles. ‘However, I would like to confirm all of this information before I go out giving rewards. I’ve had a few bad experiences in the past which I don’t care to repeat.’

  ‘Of course, I understand.’ Granger’s face drops. ‘But ... the story I’ve told you is not really something anyone can easily make up and I did bring photos of her to give you some extra proof. Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘I’m not saying I doubt you story, it’s probably true, but like I said I have had a few bad experiences in the past. I mean, for all I know you could have gotten those photos from anywhere. I’m sorry. I will need a little more proof.’

  ‘Okay.’ Granger stares at Verdad. He glances back into the empty car park. ‘What sort of proof?’

  ‘That’s my business. Once I’ve checked everything out I will be in contact with you about the reward.

  ‘You can go now.’ Verdad stares at him.

  ‘But, I really do need that money now. How long will it take for you to double check my facts? I assure you I haven’t lied. Can’t you just ... take my word for it?’

  ‘No, and I’ll take as long as I like. This is not just a case of mistaken identity; it’s much much more than that.’ He stops. ‘I need to be careful. If anyone apart from me contacts you about Jennifer tell them nothing about your suspicions and nothing about our meeting. If you do I’ll know and you will definitely not be getting a reward then.’ Verdad stops, staring into Granger’s reddening face.

  ‘Have a pleasant afternoon Mr Granger.’ He finishes, a manic expression filling his face. Granger lets out a breath of frustration and gets up out of his chair with excessive force. He stares at Verdad for a few long seconds before saying goodbye. Quickly, he turns and exits the restaurant, slamming the door loudly, causing one of the bells to fall off its string and roll along the entire length of the floor. Verdad lets out a short amused laugh. He sits thinking for a few minutes until Quin walks silently back into the room.

  ‘I heard your visitor leave.’ He smiles.

  ‘Yeah, so did everyone else in the vicinity.’ Verdad looks up at him from the table.

  ‘Did everything go okay?’

  ‘Perfectly. So, are you and Gord going to hit the town tonight?’ Verdad is barely interested.

  ‘Yeah, thanks a lot Mr Verdad, you’re right, we do need a night off. But are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure, and to show how sure I’ll even pay for all of your expenses tonight.’ He pulls out his black leather wallet and produces a thick pile of fifty dollar notes.

  ‘Really? Wow, that’s generous of you.’ Quin takes the money and places it in his apron pocket.

  ‘What can I say, I’m a generous guy. Now, how about dishing up some chicken burritos, the good tasting ones. And get me some sangria while you’re at it. I feel like celebrating.’ Verdad smiles.

  ‘Sure thing.’ Quin leaves the room and enters the kitchen again while Verdad resumes listening to a meringue salsa n
ow blaring out of the speakers.

  Across from the restaurant, on the other side of the car park, the man in the clothing store is still keeping watch. He observes as Granger angrily forces his ballooned body back into his car and drives out of the complex at an elevated speed. Curiosity spreads once again over the shopkeepers face.

  He continues to keep watch on the restaurant until, an hour later, Marcus Verdad exits with a smile, practically skipping towards his shiny black Mercedes. The shopkeeper shakes his head and lets out a disbelieving laugh.

  #5 Narcissism