A Rock and a High Place

by Dan Mooney

  “I’m glad you all find this so massively amusing,” she told them icily, just as they had composed themselves.

  That set them off again, fresh peals of laughter and tears from the two elderly gents in the back. Eva harrumphed in disgust.

  “What if you had fallen down, Dad?”

  “What if you had fallen down?” he replied in between giggles.

  “Don’t be so childish…”

  “No, really,” he said composing himself, “anyone can fall down anywhere. I could, you could. It’s a stupid argument to lock a man up.”

  “For Christ’s sake,” she fumed, “you are not being locked up.”

  Her words weren’t helped by the broad, forbidding gates of the nursing home looming before them. She noticed it too and turned away so she could call up to reception and have them opened.

  “Hilltop Nursing Home,” the voice announced. The receptionist. Mark. A young man. Dry and funny. Joel liked him, in as much as you could like any of your jailers.

  “Eva Monroe,” his daughter snapped into the machine. “I believe you’re missing two residents.”

  “Uh, ah, Ms. Monroe. Of course. Buzzing you in.”

  The call disconnected, and the buzz started, soon drowned out by the noise of the two huge gates opening ponderously before them. Joel stared up the long, winding driveway. He knew what he was about to see, but it didn’t help to know. She would be coming for him.

  Sure enough, as the car wound toward the small parking spaces at the top, the diminutive but commanding figure of The Rhino bustled out from the main entrance. Everything about her was menacing, her body language, her thunderhead expression, her tightly controlled fury evident in her every step.

  Joel steeled himself as best he could.

  “Mr. Monroe,” she began, her voice ice cold. “Do you care to explain yourself?”

  The giggles had just passed, and her fury was terrifying, but five pints of Guinness makes an excellent insulator against terror and more than emboldened Joel.

  “Not really,” he told her casually as he stretched his still slightly aching body. The toil of the morning remained in his bones.

  She flattened him with a look. It was all he could do to keep his feet against her. He schooled his face to nonchalance.

  “Mr. Adams,” she said, turning her attention to Frank. “Do you care to explain yourself?”

  “Madame Ryan,” Frank began, his de Selby mask on. “I humbly apologise and fervently beg your forgiveness. A weakness took over me, a wanderlust you might say, and with my feet itching, I decided to see the world. Joel tried to stop me, and eventually only came with me to try to convince me to return. I’m afraid I’ve led the boy astray, and for that I’m so very sorry.”

  Eva snorted at Frank, and Lily, standing alongside her mother, pursed her lips to keep from laughing all over again.

  “Have you two been drinking?” The Rhino asked incredulously.

  “Imagine that,” Joel retorted, “two grown men having a couple of pints. The horror of it.”

  “Mr. Monroe, I’ll thank you not to take that tone with me.”

  “And I’ll thank you. Ms. Ryan,” Eva interjected, “not to lose my father again.”

  The Rhino turned her baleful eye on Eva. Sizing her up. Joel thought she looked like a tiny lion considering how it might eat an entire giraffe.

  “I shall not, Ms. Monroe, but I shall need your father’s cooperation. It’s something that’s been sadly lacking these last few weeks.”

  Eva regarded Joel for a moment.

  “Do you think maybe the death of Mr. Miller may have affected him more than we thought?” she asked.

  “Perhaps. The counselor we had been discussing might be a better idea after all. Hilltop is not adequately staffed to offer your father the kind of psychological help he might need.”

  They were deciding his future. They talked about him as if he wasn’t there. They spoke to one another right through him, as if he, standing there right in between the two of them, was some kind of ghost, a shade. Joel saw Lily looking at him sadly, with tremendous pity. Somewhere inside her she knew, he could see she knew, that their ignoring of him was a tremendous insult to him. He felt his temper flare at the sight of her pity. He thought, for a brief, lovely moment, he thought she might have respected him, and now she stood there pitying him for being ignored.

  “Don’t you dare,” he almost shouted. “Don’t either of you dare attempt to discuss me or my mental state as if I’m not here.”

  They looked at him, both a touch shocked.

  “How dare either of you think you can decide what’s best for me, while I stand here, without even looking at me?”

  “Dad…” Eva began firmly.

  “No. No, no, no! I won’t have it. I won’t stand for it. You’ll look at me when you’re speaking to me.” His anger was mixed with alcohol and grief, and tears sprang to his eyes, a lump jumped into his throat. My Tools, My Rules. “You’ll include me. Don’t you dare exclude me.”

  His voice rose to a crescendo at the end. Performative, but fueled by anger. Frank was looking at him almost proudly. Lily with a small delighted smile playing on her lips. The other residents, some of whom were still finishing their gardening, stood up from what they were doing and looked over.

  The silence in the aftermath of his outburst was loud. The Rhino and Eva both stood there. Neither looked particularly chastened, but neither did they take him to task for shouting. They simply regarded him quietly.

  “He is almost entirely detached from his life and the world,” said the voice of Mighty Jim as he ambled over to Joel’s side. The only noise in the yard.

  The silence stretched out, the three of them locked in it, completely.

  “A game of chess, old man?” Frank eventually asked quietly, ignoring Eva and The Rhino as they had ignored Joel.

  Joel stilled himself. They were still boring holes into him with their eyes, but neither had spoken. It made sense. He had raised a daughter as pigheaded as he himself was, and he knew it. The Rhino was a whole new level of unrelenting. He wasn’t going to win any staring contests. He wasn’t sure he wanted to anyhow.

  “Sounds lovely,” he replied. “Jim, care to join us?”

  “A heavy yet measured step,” Jim told him calmly.

  “Couldn’t agree more,” Joel replied. The three of them walked toward the main building. Joel noted with some satisfaction that the other residents were still looking at him, but as he passed them, he saw the looks they were offering. Supportive. One or two nodded encouragingly as he passed.

  Inside the main hallway the trio met Una Clarke. Dressed for the evening and out of her gardening clothes. She carried herself, as she always did, with great dignity, but there was a twinkle in her eye again, a hint of the same mischievous smile as she had offered them that morning.

  “I thought I told the two of you to stay out of trouble,” she admonished them gently.

  Joel loved the twinkle in her eye, the smile, the calm tone she had with him.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, with a wink worthy of de Selby.

  *

  It was later that evening before the full consequences of their actions became apparent. Joel and Frank had arrived back in time for supper and sat in the common room eating with the hunger that only comes from a belly full of drink. Mrs. Clarke and Mrs. Klein sat with them, eager to hear tell of their adventure.

  “How did you get out though?” Mrs. Klein asked for the third time.

  “Top secret,” Frank told her, for the third time.

  “How though?” she asked again.

  “We tunneled out with spoons,” Frank replied.

  “You did not?” she asked, aghast.

  “Something tells me they’re not going to tell us,” Mrs. Clarke said wearily. “We found your gardening equipment down by the gate. You hardly climbed over?”

  “We could have climbed over,” Joel told her. “We’re spry.” His muscles screamed at
him in protest.

  She looked at him disbelievingly.

  “You’re in good shape for a man of your age, but something tells me you’re lying.”

  “I thank you for noticing,” he told her, pleased to see her blush at his comment.

  Frank covered a smile by shoveling in another forkful of potato.

  Joel found his confusion regarding Una Clarke to be dissipating, and to his surprise and pleasure, found himself enjoying her company more and more.

  “How did you get out, though?” Mrs. Klein asked again.

  Before he could answer, Nurse Liam walked into the room, his face sombre, no-nonsense.

  “Joel, when you get a minute I’d like to speak to you in your room.”

  Joel’s appetite vanished. There would, he realised, have to be consequences for their behaviour. This was it.

  “Let’s go,” he said brusquely, dropping his fork and trying not to appear dismayed.

  They walked through the halls to the bedroom in silence. His shoes popping on the tile floor, Nurse Liam gliding before him. When they reached the bedroom, the nurse took his place by the television stand, no trace of his usual humour or good nature showing. Joel sat on the edge of the bed and steeled himself. He looked to his bedside table for inspiration. His sign leaned against the wall behind the photo of Lucey, where his new lucky penny sat. “My Tools, My Rules, it assured him. He felt his resolve stiffen.

  “We need to know how you got out, Joel,” Liam told him sternly.

  “Top secret,” Joel replied, poker-faced.

  “This is a health and safety matter, Joel. We can’t have residents wandering off whenever they like it. Now how did you get out?”

  “I walked,” Joel told him.

  “How?”

  “On my legs,” Joel replied.

  Nurse Liam sighed. Joel could tell he didn’t like being in this spot. He wore his feelings in every expression of his face. He hated being the bad guy.

  Joel searched for any sign that the young man knew of their rock. They must have searched the gardens. They surely saw the fresh digging and hoeing and chopping that Joel and Frank had set themselves to. If he did know, and was looking for confirmation, he gave no sign of it.

  “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of this, Joel…” he began.

  Joel again. Because Liam needed something. Not the Mr. Monroe he used when he was giving orders or admonishing Joel like he was some kind of child.

  “We walked out the main gate,” Joel lied.

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There are cameras, Joel. We checked them. Please don’t lie to me.”

  “We flew over the walls.”

  “Joel, please…”

  “We built a trebuchet out of gardening equipment and flung ourselves to freedom.”

  “I’m trying to help you here.”

  “I don’t think that you are, Nurse Liam. I really don’t think that you are.”

  “I am. I want to be on your side, I really do, and I know that you think I’m somehow against you. I promise you I’m not.” He paused for a moment, agonisingly. “There’s been a discussion, and a decision. You just haven’t been yourself lately, and we’re worried about you…”

  Joel snorted his disbelief at that.

  “…Nurse Ryan believes, and your daughter agrees, that if you don’t cooperate, they’ll have no choice but to relocate you to somewhere that better suits your needs. If you don’t speak to someone about what’s going on, we really don’t have a choice. I know you can’t see it, but we’re worried about you.”

  Joel had felt this was coming, but was still unprepared for the feeling of it. Like a kick in the stomach.

  “So I’m to be treated like a crazy person for wanting some independence.”

  “No one is treating you like a crazy person.”

  “Oh, you all say that. Who else do you send for psychiatric evaluations except for crazy people?”

  “It’s just that your behaviour has been so erratic lately, we need to know if something is wrong, and if you won’t cooperate with us, we have to use other means to find out. Please, Joel, I promise you, I’m trying to help.”

  Joel felt like spitting at him. It would surely only make matters worse. His sincerity was clear. He really thought that he was helping.

  “When is this evaluation to take place?” he asked instead.

  Liam sighed heavily.

  “You’re so hostile all the time, Joel. Why?”

  “When is it to take place?” Joel demanded.

  “As soon as we can arrange. Maybe next week.”

  Next week. Joel didn’t even try to suppress the shudder at the thought. A week. No time at all.

  “Is that all?”

  The nurse nodded at him almost sadly, before withdrawing from the room.

  A single, solitary week, Joel thought as he dressed himself for bed. He had just seven days to kill himself.

  Chapter Seventeen

  That night Joel dreamt again, another hellish dream of a wide open, barren landscape dotted with boulders and hills where an army of Mr. Miller skeletons ambled aimlessly. He walked among them, trying to talk to them; they ignored him completely.

  At the foot of a huge hill, sitting down with his back to a large boulder, one the exact same shape as the rock they’d found at the foot of Hilltop, but massive in size, sat Therapist Frank. He had his little notebook open, and he was scribbling in it relentlessly. Joel tried to tiptoe around Therapist Frank, sweating profusely, desperate not to draw attention to himself, when a voice called out from the other side of the boulder. It was Lucey’s voice. No, it was Una Clarke’s voice. He couldn’t tell which. This frightened him.

  “Over here, Joel,” the voice of Una or Lucey called him. “Over here, my love.”

  Therapist Frank looked up at him.

  “Ah, there you are, Mr. Monroe,” it said in The Rhino’s voice. “Lovely to meet you. My tools, my rules.”

  Joel woke from the dream with a start, confused and disorientated.

  “You okay?” Frank asked from across the room.

  He was sitting up in the bed, reading again, still dressed in his pajamas with the polka dot scarf draped around his neck.

  “No,” Joel told him, trying to orientate himself.

  “Nightmare?” Frank asked, climbing from the bed.

  “Nightmare. Don’t want to talk about it.”

  The room, it seemed to Joel, had shrunk, collapsed in on itself. It was smaller in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, the walls closing in.

  The night before he had told Frank about the meeting with the psychiatrist. His friend knew about the dread he was feeling.

  “It’ll be okay, pal,” Frank told him consolingly as he stood by Joel’s side.

  “They’re going to know,” Joel told him in dismay.

  “Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe you could do with talking. Maybe there’s more going on than you’re willing to face.”

  “You promised, Frank. You promised I’d never have to see them.”

  He couldn’t explain the fear. He didn’t even want to. He wanted out, and every day that they forced him further into a corner rushed him toward his inevitable death. He just had to find a suitable way to go. If he couldn’t find it, maybe just any suicide would do.

  “Okay, okay, no therapist. So, what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know,” Joel replied, helplessly. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

  Frank looked at him for a long moment. Joel could see the wheels turning in his head.

  “A week, maybe two if you’re lucky,” Frank mused. “A thought. I know this is going to be anathema to you…”

  Joel nodded, pretending he understood what anathema was.

  “…but maybe we need to just behave ourselves?”

  “Meaning?”

  “It’s time for you to put on a show. Behave yourself. Play nice. Do as you’re told. If you giv
e them a nice show, be the good dog, they might let the psychiatrist thing go?”

  “But what about my…”

  He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. He wanted to say suicide, but the words hung on the end of his tongue, blocked by some part of him, some old, sensible part.

  “If you’re dead set on it, pardon the terrible pun, there’s no reason to stop planning, but we’ll just have to be a bit more low-key. You need time to get this right, and as near as I can tell, the only chance you have of getting more time is to be the best little boy in the whole of Hilltop.”

  Joel mulled it over. The idea had potential. There was a chance. Two weeks of toeing the line, of kowtowing to them in exchange for his freedom? Could he do it? Before the thought had fully taken hold, he remembered Lily’s face, outside the car the day before, when he had taken his stand and shouted them down, and her smile when she and her mother had caught him and Frank red-handed. He loved that face, that pride, and respect and admiration for a man she knew, a man whom she valued.

  He remembered Chris’s face too, the tinge of something around his nose and his lips. Disgust, or discomfort, or some other mixture of things that Joel didn’t know. He hated that face, hated what it represented. He hated what he saw in those eyes: another used-up, spent old man. To be visited because that’s polite, but of no value.

  To kowtow was to accept the face of Chris, to accept his position and tell them all that he could take the absurd, pointless existence that he had been passing time in for five years, and if he did it, it would mean he would have to remember that face that Lily had shown him, however briefly, and it would stab at him for the fraud.

  Frank, with insight that Joel now considered typical of the man, saw all the cogs turning in Joel’s head, and smiled a small, wry smile.

  “I know that Joel’s not for turning, but it might be the only chance you have?”

  “No. He is not,” Joel admitted. Could he do it? Could he fake it that he was happy living out this miserable existence?

  “I’ll try it. God dammit, I’ll try to do it, even if it shames me.”

  Joel suspected that his good boy behaviour would last all the way up until he saw Lily or Chris again. That’s all it would take. One adult to treat him like he still possessed his own agency and he’d throw the whole act out the window.