A Rock and a High Place

by Dan Mooney

  For just a second it looked like he might leave the door to the nurses’ station wide open, but he had the wherewithal to throw Joel one last suspicious look before he pulled the door shut behind him. The second he rounded the corner into the corridor Joel was moving himself.

  He slid back the panel of glass in the partition and stuck his head into the little cubby office.

  The clipboard with the monthly door codes hung on a little hook on the inside wall. He reached a hand in, his fingers brushing the board. He stretched, his fingers gaining purchase but not enough for him to lift the clipboard clear.

  He checked the corridor again, glancing left and right before going again. This time he shoved his head and arms through the small gap, as he had guessed, just wide enough for him to fit through, at a squeeze. Leaning on the desk inside he hauled himself up and hunched over, his legs now dangling out of the tiny window slot, his left shoulder on the desk. He reached out and lifted the clipboard clear, his eyes rapidly scanning the page. His eyesight wasn’t what it once had been, and so he had to adjust the position of the board several times to get it in focus. And there it was: ground floor code: 3266D. Clumsily and with tremendous effort he managed to rehang the clipboard on the wall and slide himself awkwardly back out.

  Una Clarke stood in the hallway facing him, one eyebrow raised.

  “Una,” Joel greeted her. Aiming for casual innocence as if his arse hadn’t been stuck up the air, with his legs dangling behind him a few seconds beforehand.

  “Aren’t you in enough trouble?” she asked almost wearily.

  “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, my dear,” he replied, and then, aiming for some de Selby charm, he added; “but aren’t you looking lovely this afternoon?”

  She smiled in spite of herself but shook her head as she did it.

  “Honestly,” she told him. “I don’t know which one of you is worse.”

  He offered her his widest smile and an arm. She linked his, and the two of them began walking back toward their bedrooms. As they passed the common room Frank was being helped, whether he wanted the help or not, back to the bedroom, too. He scowled at Joel.

  “I hope you’re feeling better,” Joel told him calmly, and tried not to let his amusement show on his face.

  “I hope you shove it up your arse,” Frank replied, still dabbing his mouth with a handkerchief.

  *

  They spent the day playing it cool. Relaxing in their bedroom, eating dinner in the common room, counting down the minutes until their last night of fun.

  He hoped that Eva wouldn’t be mad at him, or at least, not too mad at him. He needed this. One last time before they made him confront himself in a way that he had never done before. One last chance to be a VIP before he was forced to begin therapy, before they figured out that he was suicidal, that he had enough of being alive. And when they did figure that out, and they would, he was certain, it would be drugs or a section or something, and then who knew what his life would be? The very last he knew of Joel Monroe was in this night, because from the following day on, he’d be something else, someone else, and the thought terrified him.

  He promised himself he’d write her a note. All of them a note. He’d even apologise to Nurse Ryan.

  As the moment approached he felt himself less concerned by what other people thought, or who’d be mad at him and why. He had loved his first taste of freedom ever since he and Frank had stolen out one Sunday afternoon some weeks beforehand, and he had been hooked on that feeling ever since. He had stared down the yard at his rock and thought of the wonderful feeling he had discovered when his feet touched land outside the wall.

  Quietly and with a suppressed excitement the two men began to plan their night on the town. Without being asked and without waiting to request permission, Frank began to select Joel’s clothing for the night.

  “What’s wrong with what I pick?” Joel asked grumpily.

  “We’re VIPs, you colossal dolt,” Frank told him. “Not the same thing as OAPs.”

  “But we are OAPs.”

  “That right there is exactly your problem, old man,” Frank replied airily.

  “You’re older than I am,” Joel replied incredulously.

  “Don’t go telling people that. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m over a thousand years old.”

  “Ouch. I have feelings too, you know,” Joel told him.

  Frank looked for a moment like he might have another pop at Joel, but instead he just turned to him with a smile.

  “I know you do, my friend. I know you do.”

  Joel hadn’t intended for the comment to be taken in any way seriously, but there it was. The tenderness of the moment felt awkward to him, despite the collection of them he seemed to have been building up lately.

  After lights out, when the nurses had done their final rounds for the evening and closed all the bedroom doors behind them, Joel and Frank stole from their beds. The note Joel left for the staff was addressed to Eva first.

  Eva,

  My love, don’t you be worrying about me tonight. Tomorrow I start my therapy and all that, and I just wanted one more night of freedom. One more opportunity to have a drink with my friend. I’ve never been a VIP before. I’ll be home later on.

  Nurse Angelica,

  That top part up there only applies if you call Eva. I wouldn’t bother her if I was you. We’ll be home later on. We just fancy slipping out for a little pint or two.

  Sorry if this causes you trouble,

  Really.

  Joel Monroe.

  He smiled at it. They’d be beside themselves wondering how the two elderly men managed to Houdini themselves out of the nursing home for the third time that they knew about. The two men dressed themselves as sharply as they knew how and appraised each other in the dim light of Frank’s reading lamp when they were done.

  Frank was in his one and only suit, tan in colour with its complementary brown waistcoat and a dickie. Joel was in a navy pinstripe suit, one of the few he owned but never wore.

  “Good enough,” Frank grumbled, looking Joel up and down.

  “Too bloody fancy,” Joel told Frank with pursed lips.

  “Oh,” Frank said suddenly. “One more thing.”

  He fished around in the coat stand by his bed and produced a brilliant sky-blue scarf in silk with a white trim. It was a magnificent piece of ostentation that Joel doubted he would have ever worn in his life, had he not met Frank Adams. He let the smaller man loop the scarf over his neck and adjust it on him.

  “Now slightly better than good enough. But only slightly.”

  Joel let him have that one.

  Between the low light and failing vision Joel fumbled to find the security panel. They both winced loudly at the sound of the latch unlocking and held the door open just an inch as they waited for the sound of footsteps. None came. There was no way they’d be able to explain themselves out of this, if caught in the full of their regalia.

  Outside their bedroom the corridor was quiet. Almost eerie in the nighttime hush. Joel realised he’d never been in the corridor after bedtime save for coming home drunk the week previous. There was a ghostly quality to them and a bizarre sense of familiarity. It was somehow the same feeling he got when he saw the barren landscape of the dreams he kept having. The sensation was alarming and unsettling.

  “You okay?” Frank whispered.

  “Shut up, you jackass,” Joel whispered back.

  Somewhere up the corridor, past the common room and in the reception area a blue light lit the walls along with a low murmuring noise. The night nurse was watching television. The two would-be escapees moved silently down the corridor, into the common room and, slowly, carefully, silently opened a window into the cool night air. The common room itself jutted out from the building at the front, and as such was close to the window of their bedroom, despite being some distance down the corridor from their place. Joel went first, helping Frank behind him, and within minutes the two of th
em were free.

  At the end of the drive they picked their way into the bushes and trees that marked the wide perimeter of Hilltop, and slowly they made their way to their rock. Out later on this night than on their previous escapes, the darkness was a welcome shadow for them to move in. When they cleared the rock and found themselves once again on top of the wall to Nurse Ryan’s house, they found themselves once again looking in to the conservatory below. The lights were on, but there was no one there.

  “Move your old ass,” Frank whispered at him.

  They put the escape maneuver into practice, both more comfortable now that they had some practice. Frank touched down first and offered his back as a platform for Joel to drop down to. Joel felt the familiar giddiness sweep over him. He wondered what exactly The Rhino’s face would look like if she were to walk out into her back garden now, and catch Joel Monroe using Frank Adams as a stepladder so that the two of them, as fancy as they could make themselves, could enjoy a night on the town.

  “Stop giggling,” Frank told him as he lowered himself down. “You’ll make me giggle.”

  Before either of them knew it, they were standing at the bus stop, brushing each other down and adjusting their scarves for departure.

  “Gents,” the bus driver greeted them with a smile as he pulled in. “On the town tonight?”

  “We absolutely are,” Frank told him as they climbed aboard and left Hilltop behind them again.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  They found a pub by wandering in a small circle for about fifteen minutes before eventually picking a door. It seemed to be Frank’s method. Walk around a little bit, go this way and that and when you’ve had enough of walking, stop at the first and most convenient place.

  “What do you think will happen after I’ve seen the shrink again?” Joel asked as they sat by their table sipping.

  “I don’t know, old boy. I suppose that depends on what they make of you.”

  “What do you think they’ll make of me?”

  “Usual,” Frank told him glibly, “cranky, short-tempered, paranoid, crazy old man.”

  “Come on. What do you really think?”

  “I really think you need to stop acting like this is the end of the world and you’re on your deathbed.

  “But what if it is the end of my world? What if they lock me up?”

  “They’re not going to lock you up, you crazy old bastard. That’s not what therapists do, Joel.”

  “Then who’s in charge of locking up crazy fellas?”

  “Okay. So sometimes it’s what they do, but mostly they don’t.”

  “So there’s a chance?”

  “For fuck sake,” Frank sighed.

  “Have you been to a psychiatrist?” Joel asked suddenly.

  It had never occurred to him that his friend might have needed one, after all that had happened to him.

  “No, never been.” Frank replied. “Got nothing against it, mind. Knew a few psychologists in my time. Not the same as therapist or psychiatrists, mind, but similar field.”

  “Are they not the same, no?”

  “No, you…”

  “Colossal dolt,” Joel finished for him.

  “Yes. That.”

  “So what’s a therapist?”

  “Anyone who performs therapy.”

  “Stupid question, stupid answer,” Joel concluded.

  Frank laughed at him.

  “Ever think about going?” Joel finally asked.

  “I don’t need one,” Frank told him casually.

  “I didn’t think I needed one, but you’re all so damn adamant.”

  “Well, to be fair, you are suicidal.”

  “Fair enough. But, it’s not like you couldn’t do with getting some stuff off your chest.”

  Frank stared into his pint. He didn’t look up. There was no eye contact. He barely even moved.

  It was wrong to Joel. Fundamentally and undeniably wrong that Frank Adams/de Selby should have such a problem with who he was. It was people like himself that were the problem, Joel concluded. The Joel Monroes of the world with their shortsightedness and their ancient old-time stubbornness and their refusal to bend, to accept the world around them. Those Joel Monroes were the people who beat up Frank Adams when he was still a boy. Those Joel Monroes slapped him in hospitals when he fell in love. Those Joel Monroes were the reason that Frank Adams wore a de Selby mask everywhere he went and couldn’t say the word gay.

  “I wouldn’t change you, though,” Joel told Frank.

  Frank looked up at him questioningly.

  “I wouldn’t change you for the world. Shitty thing that happened to you. Real shitty. Suppose fellas like me don’t make it any easier.”

  “You did ask me if I was gay for you,” Frank reminded him.

  “Yeah. Well. Colossal dolt and all that,” Joel agreed with a smile. “Just really, though. You did it. You reached this age having had to encounter the likes of me all your life. It’s different for the kids now. Now most people don’t give a shit, and the ones that do all look like raving lunatics. In our day it was different, you know. No excuses or anything, still not right and all that, but we were brainwashed, you know. They hammered that into us, while they were beating us black and blue in school. And you came through it. You did it. And now…”

  He paused again. Too many times in too few days. He was getting into the habit of talking. Of sharing. It was alien to him, but somehow refreshing. He decided to just dive right in.

  “And now you’re the best person I’ve ever met. You did that all on your own. Became the best person in the world despite your own family telling you that you were supposed to hate yourself. I’m proud of you. Is that weird to say? I’m proud of you, and I’m proud I know you.”

  “It’s not weird to say,” Frank whispered.

  He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

  “Come on,” Frank said. “Let’s go be VIPs.”

  *

  They walked through the streets passing pubs and restaurants and cafes and diners, all brimming with life, a city centre with a lively, beating heart. There were elderly people mixed among the crowds but few, and you had to look for them. Joel sought them out with his eyes. He wanted to make eye contact, to say, I see you. I’m glad to see you.

  Mostly it was young people. He had feared them a little bit until quite recently. Now they were all Lily or Chris to him. Some variation or other of his grandchildren, and as he watched them move in their flocks from bar to bar he felt an urge, unfelt for a long time, to take care of them. To take them by the hands and show them what was good for them and what wasn’t, what they needed to do better. He hoped it wasn’t too late to impart some of that wisdom on to his grandkids.

  They meandered here and there, and Joel was near certain that Frank had gotten them lost again when they rounded the familiar corner with the wide double doors that led to the courtyard of the club.

  There was only one of their two bouncer friends when they rocked up to the door. The shorter one, the one Joel reckoned was the leader of the two. Joel adjusted his fancy scarf and tried not to look too self-conscious about it. The bouncer offered them a welcoming smile and stood to one side to allow them through.

  “Evening, gents,” he offered as they walked by.

  That was more like it, thought Joel. A little respect. None of the display from the week before where they had to practically beg to be accepted. He offered a gracious nod as they walked past, instead of the lambasting he might have offered some weeks before. Frank practically glided in beside Joel, in as much as any man of his age might be said to be gliding. The fact that he had been used as a stepladder earlier in the evening took some of the grace out of his movement, but he propelled himself along nicely anyway.

  Inside the main door of the club a woman sat at a small desk, taking payment from customers and such. As the two elderly gents approached she stood up to greet them with a smile.

  “Gentlemen,” she said warmly.

/>   The noise of the club getting into its stride was loud, the music, the thumping of the bass, it sent a shiver up Joel’s leg, a jolt almost, but it was invigourating, something about it suggested life and vitality. The woman stepping up to greet them, the handing over of their VIP cards and her knowing nod, it all felt like some kind of movie. He felt like he was walking through a film, where he and Frank were the main characters, powerful men, men of influence and culture and character, and wherever they went people were glad to see them and glad to know them.

  They followed the young lady toward the VIP section, along the inside of a velvet rope that separated the clubbers from the VIPs. They passed the first arrivals to the club, young people with plenty of drink already taken, and Joel tried not to look too smug about his status. Some of the young people were watching them, and Joel’s sense of being in a Hollywood film redoubled. “Who are those two important men?” he imagined them asking themselves.

  At the entrance to the VIP section another bouncer stood. He checked their cards and then checked them. It was a long check. An insultingly long check. They stood there eyeballing the bouncer who stood there double-checking that there wasn’t some mistake.

  Joel felt his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. Eventually the bouncer stood to one side, and the two of them thanked the young lady and walked by the giant who had blocked their way.

  The VIP section, a little secluded from the main club, was quieter, though certainly still loud enough that Joel would have to raise his voice to be heard. The furniture, all plush couches and armchairs around solid oak furniture, looked new and expensive. Potted palm plants added a sense of the exotic to the room, but other than the bar at the end of the room with two staff members idly polishing glassware, it could have been the waiting room for some expensive doctor’s surgery.

  “What an asshole,” Joel fumed as they headed for the bar.

  “Don’t get all worked up about it,” Frank insisted. “He’s just doing his job.”

  “You see that, though? We had some VIP passes, and he still looked like he was going to turf us out.”