by Ava Conway
“We see your point, Mia,” Dr. Polanski said.
I cleared my throat and adjusted my glasses. “Yes, Dr. Polanski.”
Nesto snorted, and I tried hard to ignore him. He could bait me all he wanted, but I wasn’t going to fall for it again. I was the healthy one, the teacher. The people around me were the ones who were sick and needed help. I tried to remember that as Dr. Polanski continued.
“Over the past week, we’ve been talking about how to recognize anger,” Dr. Polanski said. “Have we all been journaling when we feel angry?”
A general murmur in the affirmative rose up from the group. I turned to a fresh page in my notebook and made a note of it.
“Good. Make sure you bring those journals to your one-on-one sessions this afternoon. For now, we’re going to talk about ways to defuse your anger once you recognize it.” Dr. Polanski stood and brought over a large sketchpad on a stand. “Now, does anyone have any ideas on how we could calm down and channel our anger in a more positive way?”
Silence descended over the room and the air became thick with tension. As I glanced around, I saw some patients twirling their hair, some looking at the ceiling, and others staring at their hands in their lap. It seemed like everyone was trying hard to make themselves inconspicuous.
My gaze fell on a patient on the opposite side of the circle, next to Nesto. The man Dr. Polanski called Carter was staring at me with this choked expression, and making me rather uneasy. I shifted in my chair and glanced down at my suit, wondering if something was out of place. Besides the coffee stains, everything seemed to be in order, right down to the conservative pearl earrings and necklace I had chosen this morning. I wanted to ask the patient what he was staring at, but was afraid to speak in the middle of the therapy session.
“Anyone?” Dr. Polanski’s voice sounded tired, much too tired for nine o’clock in the morning. “Carter?”
Carter dragged his attention away from me and saw that everyone was looking at him. He cleared his throat. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Dr. Polanski raised her brows. “You have no ideas on how we could calm down and channel our anger in a more positive way? Not one?”
“I know,” I said, directing my attention toward Dr. Polanski.
“That’s fine, Mia, but is there anyone else?” There was a hint of irritation in her voice, and I didn’t blame her. I was beginning to become irritated by these passive patients as well. Didn’t anyone want to get well? Healing took hard work, and yet all of these patients looked as if they were on some kind of spa retreat.
“The subject could try Ānāpānasati,” I blurted.
“Ānāpānasati?” Nesto snorted. “Sounds like some Italian dish.”
“Breathing meditation.” I twirled my pen in my hand and glanced over at the burly patient once more. He had moved to the edge of his seat, as if he were going to jump out of his chair. I shifted in my seat and wondered how quickly Elias, Johnson and Dr. Polanski would come to my aid if this guy decided to attack me.
I cleared my throat and returned my attention to Dr. Polanski, who was studying me with a thoughtful expression. “It’s when the subject focuses on the sensations caused by the movements of the breath in the body.” I glanced around at all of the blank faces. “It’s part of Buddhism.”
“Yes, I believe you’re quite right,” the doctor said, drawing my attention back to her. She began to write on the sketchpad. “Although in here, we don’t refer to ourselves as subjects. We’re people.”
“Oh, yes, I meant people.” Of course the patients were people. That was what I had learned in my first week of school. I tried to determine if my misstep had made the doctor think less of me, but I couldn’t tell.
“What Mia was trying to say is that we could focus on taking deep breaths, drawing in the positive energy and then letting out the negative.”
“That’s not quite the same—” Dr. Polanski’s sharp look caused my words to die on my lips.
“Now, let’s try it, shall we? I want everyone to sit up straight and put your hands at your sides.”
I mimicked the movements of the doctor and tried to relax, a difficult task with that big, burly patient staring at me. I wished he’d find something else to stare at.
“Now,” Dr. Polanski said, “I want you to take a deep breath in and feel the positive, calming energy flow through your system. . . . That’s it, now breathe out, pushing your negative energy out into the air round you. Again . . .”
I gave up trying to relax and started taking notes. In big, bold letters I wrote “Check into creepy guy with brown, Einstein-like hair.” I drew an arrow from my note and wrote the word “Carter” in big, bold letters.
“Okay now, can anyone else give me another suggestion?”
“How about hitting something?” Nesto asked. “I think hitting would be better than breathing.”
“Do you always hit things, Nesto?”
“Well, yeah.” He crossed his arms and gave her a “duh” expression.
I wrote “Nesto has aggression issues” and underlined it.
“And look where it got you,” Dr. Polanski said. “Maybe there’s a better solution. Carter?”
I was still taking notes on my notepad, so it took me a few moments to realize that the room had gone quiet.
Everyone in the circle was looking at the large man with Einstein hair next to Nesto. Carter was still fixated on me, although I couldn’t understand what he found so fascinating. As the class waited for an answer, he just kept . . . staring at me with those wild, dark eyes. It was unnerving.
“Carter?” Dr. Polanski leaned to the side and inserted herself between Carter and me. “Care to tell us how you handle your anger?”
Carter’s whole body shook, from his frizzy, espresso-colored hair down through his gray sweats to his bear-claw slippers. Nesto elbowed him in the ribs. “The doctor asked you a question, man.”
Carter jerked back and turned to Nesto as if noticing him for the first time. “Did you see?”
“See what, man?” Nesto unfolded his arms and straightened.
“Her.” Carter turned his wild gaze back to me and pointed. “It’s her.”
THREE
THE SILENCE was deafening. My heartbeat thudded in my ears as I looked around helplessly at the people sitting in the circle. All of the patients had stopped their fidgeting and staring off into space. Everyone had focused on me.
Suddenly I felt very ill.
“You’re right,” Nesto said. “I don’t know why I didn’t notice the resemblance before. It’s not her, though. It can’t be her.”
“Flynn is going to flip,” Carter added. “Do you think he’s seen her?”
I didn’t know what to say. Situations like this weren’t in any textbook and never came up in the classroom. I turned helplessly to Dr. Polanski, who was frowning her perfect plum lips at Carter.
“Would you care to share what you are talking about with the rest of the group?” Dr. Polanski asked.
Carter jerked his head back in surprise and turned to face the doctor. “No, ma’am.” He started tapping his foot in rapid succession on the floor.
“Come, now,” I said as I inched to the edge of my seat. “You are in a safe place here. You can tell us. Who’s this Flynn, and who do I look like?”
“I—” Carter’s foot sped up as he glanced at me, and an uneasy feeling rippled down my spine. He had that look of recognition again, but for the life of me, I didn’t recognize him.
Carter’s hands began to shake as he turned back to the doctor. “I thought she was the woman from the picture, but Nesto says she isn’t.”
“I see,” said Dr. Polanski. “And, Nesto? Is there something you would like to share with the class?”
Nesto kept his gaze focused on me as he spoke. “Nah, she can’t be the same one. The girl in the picture was skinnier.”
“Skinnier?” I asked before Dr. Polanski could speak.
Nesto flashed me a victory smile. “Y
eah. And prettier.” He dropped his gaze, and I realized that he was trying to look down my shirt.
Anger rippled through me at his snarky tone. I clenched my pen in my hand and eased forward. “What picture are you talking about?”
“That’s quite enough, Mia,” Dr. Polanski said.
“But . . .” She was reprimanding me? I didn’t understand. I wasn’t the one who started this. If she was to reprimand anyone, it should be Carter for staring at me, or Nesto for his smart mouth.
Dr. Polanski turned to face the men. “If you don’t want to answer the questions, then perhaps we should turn our attention back to the topic at hand.” Dr. Polanski’s authoritative voice and no-nonsense attitude gathered everyone’s attention. I scribbled down in my notebook to practice my voice at home. Perhaps if I sounded more in control, patients like Nesto wouldn’t find me such an easy target.
The doctor started to turn back toward her sketchpad, then paused. She twisted her lips into a frown as she straightened and crossed her arms. “So nice of you to finally join us, Flynn,” she said. “Please, have a seat.”
I looked up from my pad just in time to see the doctor wave to the seat next to me. I turned to where the entire group was staring and met a familiar cerulean gaze. He had shoved his hands in his jeans and leaned up against the wall by the door, as if he had all of the time in the world. I wondered how long he had been standing there, and how long those intense blue eyes had been focused on me. My cheeks heated as I realized that he had probably heard most of my conversation with Nesto and Carter. He had seen how I had lost control of my emotions with Nesto and pushed Carter into having some sort of fit.
He knew I was an amateur, and it bothered me. The careful front I had built was crumbling faster than a sand castle at high tide. The fact that he was watching it erode was upsetting. The other patients didn’t have his watchful eye. They didn’t see through me like he did. More than anything, I wanted to prove to him that the tired, frightened, confused girl he thought he saw inside of me wasn’t real. I was a strong, stable woman who was sure of her future. I wasn’t the disheveled mess. He was.
“I wouldn’t have been late,” Flynn said as he pushed off the wall and took the empty seat next to me. “But one of the orderlies had asked me to help him.”
“One of the orderlies?” Dr. Polanski asked. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. He needed help moving something.” Flynn seemed much too big for the folding chair, and was forced to recline and stretch his feet out into the circle. He smelled like soap and radiated testosterone. Up close, I could better see the auburn stubble along his angular jaw and chin, and the strands of auburn hair peeking out from under his bandanna.
Everything about him was hard and unyielding. As I tried hard not to stare, I became hyperaware of how small I was next to him. He was intimidating, but there was also something shifting in that blue gaze. Outwardly, Flynn appeared confident and in control, but it seemed as if he was hiding something. I wanted to know what it was.
He glanced over at me and I closed my notebook, not wanting him to see what I had been writing.
“The orderlies know better than to keep patients from therapy sessions. Do you know the name of the one who asked for help?” Dr. Polanski asked.
“New guy. I didn’t look at his badge.” Flynn crossed his arms. It annoyed me at how relaxed he seemed under Dr. Polanski’s scrutiny. It made me wonder if this guy took anything seriously.
“If you don’t tell me his name, I’ll have to mark you as late,” Dr. Polanski said. “That’s the third time this week.”
Flynn didn’t seem to care about his tardiness. Instead he leaned in close and whispered in my ear. “Nice badge.”
I cleared my throat and toyed with the identification on my chest. Flynn smiled to himself and inched away from my ear.
“Flynn, that’s quite enough,” Dr. Polanski said.
“Tell her the name, featherweight.” Nesto moved to kick Flynn, but Flynn blocked, causing Nesto’s foot to hit my chair. A loud, metal ping echoed through the room, causing me to stand.
“Stop it.” I tried to sound authoritative like Dr. Polanski, but my voice sounded more like a whiny teenager’s.
“Please, boys, let’s settle down,” Dr. Polanski said as she moved between them. “Mia, take your seat. Let’s continue.”
My skin prickled at her condescending tone. She was talking to me as if I was one of the patients. I wasn’t a patient, I was an intern. There was a big difference.
Regardless, I cleared my throat and did as I was told. There was no use arguing with my mentor on my first day. I made a mental note to remember that I was a teacher, a professional. I was here to help these patients, not be drawn into their world.
As the doctor continued to try to get the other patients to talk about their anger, I cracked open my notebook and scribbled down Flynn’s name, writing “tardiness” next to it. Then I hesitated. The word didn’t seem suited to the large man before me. He seemed comfortable in his skin. He was relaxed and yet watchful, as if he were some large predatory cat waiting to strike his prey.
I crossed out “tardiness” and wrote “thug.” Then I drew a large X over the word and wrote “intelligent.” Nibbling my lower lip, I scratched it out and decided on “misunderstood.”
“What’s the skirt doing here anyway?” Nesto asked as I scribbled.
“Boys, please.” Dr. Polanski moved away from her sketchpad and capped her pen. “If we aren’t going to pay attention—”
“Nesto never pays attention. He just likes to shoot his mouth.” Flynn rubbed the energy drink logo on his shirt.
I gasped as Nesto jumped up out of his seat. The man was so fast, like an animal on the hunt. Elias materialized in front of him. How the big man got through the circle so fast, I’ll never know. Nevertheless, he was there, his hands on Nesto’s chest, his boyish features turning hard and serious.
“Take it easy, amigo. He’s not worth confinement.”
There it was again—that word. I had studied enough about the mental health system to guess that Elias was referring to solitary confinement. Normally such punishment was reserved for the prison system, not mental hospitals, but if the staff believed that a patient was a danger to themselves or others, they could be placed under a temporary watch and segregated from the rest of the hospital community. Such methods were controversial, however. Recent studies showed that solitary confinement could give rise to even more health issues. Isolation and monotony weren’t good for the brain and in the case of mental patients could make their illness worse. Potential harm to the patient had to be weighed against the safety and well-being of the community as a whole.
Although I had read a lot about using confinement as punishment, I had never seen it in action. I wondered if they used restraints on the prisoners—I mean patients—while they were in confinement, and if it really did solve any of their behavioral issues. Personally, I thought it was a barbaric form of behavioral adjustment, and treated patients as if they were animals in a zoo. I had always thought that there had to be a more humane way to treat the mentally unstable than sealing them off from the rest of the world.
I thought back to my conversations with Lucy, but couldn’t remember her ever speaking of confinement therapy. I made a notation in my notebook to talk to her about it at the first opportunity. If someone was going to end up in confinement, then I wanted to learn as much as I could about the procedure and include it in my end-of-the-semester report.
“He deserves it, man,” Nesto said.
“Think about what we’ve been talking about, Nesto,” Dr. Polanski said. “Breathe through the anger and let it go.”
For one long, tense moment, nobody moved. Then Nesto sneered and returned to his seat. Flynn flashed a lopsided grin that seemed to soften the odd angles of his nose and smooth the fine lines around his eyes. It made him look even more handsome than before.
With the immediate threat out of the way, Elias wen
t back to his post and everyone returned their attention to Dr. Polanski, including me. The entire purpose of my presence at this meeting was to learn from her, and so far I had been taking more notes about the patients than her style of teaching.
Dr. Polanski cleared her throat and slid a stray hair up into her bun. “I apologize for neglecting to tell you why Mia is here. I’m just a little distracted today.”
“Because of the meeting this morning?” I asked.
She stared at me for a moment, considering. “Yes. The meeting.” She turned and addressed the group. “Mia is a second-year med student, and will be working here and learning our system as part of an internship. She has worked out a deal with her school to get some course credit for being here and gaining some experience.” Dr. Polanski turned to me and smiled. “It shows real drive and a passion for the industry.”
“I’ve always been passionate about helping others,” I said. My cheeks heated under my mentor’s praise.
“How long will she be staying?” Carter asked. I noticed that his shaking had calmed down considerably.
“Four months,” I replied, drawing his attention.
“Lovely,” Nesto muttered. “It’s going to be the longest four months of my life.”
“Give it a rest,” Flynn said.
“You’re one to talk. She already has you with your tail between her legs.”
“Fuck you,” Flynn said as he kicked Nesto’s shin. Nesto kicked back, and once again Elias inserted himself between them and talked Nesto down from the ledge.
“Gentlemen.” Dr. Polanski told everyone about the importance of respecting one another, and reminded them of the rules of group therapy sessions.
Turning to a fresh page in my notebook, I adjusted my glasses and wrote “insulting other patients as a defense mechanism” with a note to research it more later.
Once Dr. Polanski had the room back under control, she glanced at me. “As you know, a separate wing of this hospital is a teaching hospital that is associated with a couple of schools in the area. Mia is part of an ongoing effort to educate the next generation of doctors. She is here on an internship as part of her degree requirements,” Dr. Polanski said in a much calmer voice. “Like some of the techs, she will be taking notes on your behavior and then generating a report recommending a continued course of therapy in the upcoming weeks. If everything goes as planned, we hope to start a program by which students will be able to gain hands-on experience toward their degree.”
