Shattered

by Ava Conway

  Dr. Polanski moved back over to the small group. I stood apart from them, trying to absorb everything that had happened.

  “Take him to his room,” Dr. Polanski told Elias.

  “Not confinement?” Elias asked as he adjusted his grip on Flynn’s slumping body.

  She glanced over at me before responding. “No, Elias was right. Flynn wasn’t the instigator, he was provoked. Have him sleep it off and send him to me once he’s awake.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Everything felt so strange, as if the staff were medicating people without cause. Well, that wasn’t necessarily true. Flynn and Nesto were being aggressive, and both probably had violent pasts, but it was still so much to absorb. I couldn’t help but feel that there must be a better way to help them than to give them sedatives.

  Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. I helplessly glanced around the room, hoping that this was some sort of bad dream. Dozens of classes, hours of case studies and reports, and none of it had prepared me for this.

  The door closed with a soft click and I realized that I was alone with Dr. Polanski. Up until this point I would have been thrilled with the prospect to be alone with her so I could pick her brain about her twenty years as a revolutionary in the mental health field. Now I was at a loss as to what to say. I knew she was right about Flynn—I didn’t know Flynn’s history, or anything about his illness—but it didn’t mean that I had to like it.

  I avoided her gaze and instead scanned the room for my lost shoe. I spotted the Manolo under a chair on the far side of the room and went to retrieve it.

  “Well, that was a disaster,” Dr. Polanski said as she slid a stray lock of hair into her bun, the only piece of her that had gotten ruffled during the incident. The gray seemed more prominent now, and I wondered if it was genetics or her years of service at Newton Heights that had placed those gray hairs on her head.

  “I should have known better than to not brief you before attending one of these sessions,” she said. “And I really should have said something to the group before you arrived. This was all my fault, and for that I’m sorry. I’ve just been rather . . . distracted lately.”

  “Distracted?”

  “Yes.” She crossed the room until she stood in front of me and leaned against one of the folding chairs. “The hospital is looking to cut costs again, starting with this department. They always want to start with this department.” She pinched her lips together in thought.

  “How much are they going to cut? Will it affect any of the programs?”

  “I don’t know yet. We are going to be observed over the next several weeks, along with some other departments. Then they’ll make their decision.”

  “But you’re Grace Polanski. Don’t you have a say in how your department is run?”

  Dr. Polanski’s smile was sad. “You’d be surprised at how little say I have around here.” She glanced at the mess in the room. “Scientific papers, awards, honorary degrees . . . it all helps bring our work into the spotlight, but that isn’t always a good thing.”

  “I don’t understand. How can bringing attention to this hospital not be a good thing?”

  “Not everyone agrees with my methods. Some want to go as far as to lock up the mentally ill and throw away the key.”

  “That’s terrible.”

  Dr. Polanski pressed her lips together for a moment in thought. “It’s not just this department. Newton Heights is the number one hospital in the country. Our standards have to be higher because we are the health care facility by which all other facilities hold themselves. One mistake, and there will be at least three other hospitals scrambling to take our place.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Not many people do.” She picked up a handful of coffee stirrers off the floor and gave me a sideways glance. “You were right about Flynn and Nesto. I can’t keep drugging them every time they lash out, but it’s part of our protocol.” She shook her head and tossed the coffee stirrers into the basket. “I’ve tried talking to them, but they prefer to lash out rather than focus on their healing.”

  “I see.” I knelt down and picked up the last of the stirrers and tossed them into the basket.

  “And they can’t stay here forever. At some point the board is going to force me to make a decision about them.”

  “Decision?”

  “They aren’t sick enough to stay, but too sick to be let go.”

  “I don’t understand. Aren’t they paying for their own stay here?”

  “Yes, but this isn’t a vacation spot. The board values reputation as much as money. If people aren’t getting better, then our administrators begin to question the effectiveness of our program . . .”

  And there were people watching them. Judging them. I nodded in understanding. “And when the money is tight, the administrators turn to the department that is viewed as being the least efficient.”

  “Yes.” Dr. Polanski lowered her hand and shook her head. “Something is preventing Flynn and Nesto from getting better. It’s as if they are afraid to get well. I want you to get to know them better this semester, Mia. I’m hoping you’ll find something that I missed, some way to get through to them.” She turned to face me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I glanced back at the door through which Flynn had left. “Do you often give the patients lorazepam?”

  “Only when they are getting aggressive, like they were today.” Dr. Polanski considered me for a moment before responding. “But they weren’t the only ones being aggressive, were they?”

  I felt the heat rise to my cheeks and avoided her gaze.

  “What is the number one rule when dealing with sick patients?”

  I forced myself to meet her gaze and tried to remember my lessons. “Don’t become emotionally involved.”

  Satisfied, Dr. Polanski nodded. When she spoke, her voice softened. “You let Nesto provoke you and draw you into a fight.”

  “But he said—”

  “Nesto says a lot of things, Mia. It’s one of the reasons why he’s here.”

  A dark hole opened up in my chest. “Oh.”

  “And Flynn . . .” She sighed. “Just be careful, Mia. Don’t let yourself get drawn into their world. They’ll try to mess with your head and manipulate you into giving them what they want.”

  “And what do they want?”

  Dr. Polanski smiled. “That, my dear, is what you need to figure out.” She dragged her gaze over my clothes. “You might want to grab a facecloth from the bathroom. It looks like you might have spilled some coffee.”

  “I—thanks.” I resisted the urge to slap my hand to my forehead.

  “I’ll see you in about thirty minutes in my office.”

  I sighed and picked up my notebook as my mentor turned and walked away. It didn’t take me long to find my briefcase. It had slid over by the toppled coffee urn. I stuffed my things inside and grabbed my tote, which had thankfully remained untouched during the incident.

  “You f-forgot something.”

  I quickly turned and found Carter standing there with my notebook and envelope from the front desk. We were the only ones in the room. He handed them to me and my heart beat double time as I checked to make sure everything was where it should be. It was. I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “T-they really are g-good people,” he said. He shifted his gaze away and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “I know.” I placed the envelope in my briefcase with my notebook and pen. “They just need a little help, that’s all.”

  “W-we all need help s-sometimes.”

  I looked up and met his apprehensive gaze. “We sure do.” Everyone but me. My mother had always said she was grateful that I didn’t need as much care and direction as my sister. She didn’t know what she’d do if she had two daughters with their lives as messy as my sister’s.

  “Carter, is it?” I asked.

  “Y-yes.”

  My smile widened as
I chose my words carefully. “What were you talking about earlier?”

  “Earlier?”

  “With the picture.”

  “Oh, that.” He shook his head and took a couple of steps back. “T-that’s not for me to say.”

  “Where did you see the picture?”

  Carter took a few more steps toward the door before responding. “It’s in F-Flynn’s room, and I don’t care w-what Nesto says. You’re her.”

  Before I could question him, Carter fled the room. Frowning, I collected my things and stepped out into the hall. I was still determined to find out more about that picture, but now was not the time. I had to clean myself up and get ready for my meeting with Dr. Polanski. Perhaps this afternoon I could put out feelers and see if I couldn’t get a peek at that picture.

  Thanks to the clearly marked signs, it didn’t take me long to find the bathroom. I slipped inside and discovered I was alone. After dropping my belongings with a sigh, I glanced up at the mirror.

  Hell. I looked like shit. My hair had almost completely come out of its bun. I had dirt on my face and coffee stains on my blazer. My makeup was smeared and my collar torn. At least my glasses were still intact.

  I fixed myself up the best I could, taking my time to wash my face and reapply makeup. Thankfully, I had an arsenal of makeup and hair products in my tote just in case something fell out of place. As I pulled out the gel and combs, I realized that I hadn’t brought a change of clothes. The blazer was a lost cause, as was my skirt. The rest I touched up as best I could, and after twenty minutes of primping, I felt ready to face the world once more.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” a soft, feminine voice said from behind me.

  I turned and found a petite Asian woman hiding behind the door. “No, it’s okay, you can come in.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t mind waiting.”

  “No, really, I’m almost done.” I held up my brush and made a show of slipping it back in my purse. “See?”

  The woman swallowed as she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door. Instead of going into one of the stalls, she hovered next to the wall, close to the exit.

  I watched her through the mirror and realized that she looked familiar. “I’m not going to bite, you know.”

  “I know,” she said and averted her gaze to the floor. And pulled her hands up into her shirt.

  I tilted my head to the side and wondered why she looked so familiar. As I put my makeup case back into my bag, I remembered. “You’re Iris, aren’t you?”

  She looked up and widened her eyes. “How did you know?”

  I turned away from the window and smiled. “You were with Lucy once when I came to visit.” I held out my hand. “My name’s Mia.”

  She moved away from my hand and crossed her arms. “I remember you. Lucy said you were nice.”

  “I am. We used to be roommates in college.”

  “I know. You were sick the night she had the accident.”

  My smiled faded. Iris didn’t mean it as an insult, but it felt like one nonetheless. If I’d had any idea what was going on with Lucy and her boyfriend, I would have made more of an effort to go to that fraternity party. In many ways, what Lucy went through was my fault. If I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own problems, if I had been a better friend, then she never would have suffered as much as she did.

  “Sorry,” Iris said.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past.” I remembered something else as I closed my tote. “I saw you talking with Flynn in the hall earlier, didn’t I?”

  She nodded.

  “You know Flynn well?”

  She nodded again, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

  “What’s he like?”

  The Asian woman lifted her chin and considered me before responding. “Lucy used to think that he was a little too impulsive, but I like him.”

  “Ah, I see.” I picked up my briefcase and offered her a warm smile. “I do hope that we can become friends, too. I’ll be here for a little while.”

  “As a patient?”

  “As a student.” When Iris flinched, I smiled harder. “It’s only for a semester.”

  “I see. I was a student too, once.”

  “Yeah? What happened?”

  She shrugged but didn’t say anything.

  I glanced at my watch. “Well, I have a meeting to go to, so perhaps we can talk more later?”

  “I’d like that.” Iris scooted away from the door, giving me plenty of room to exit. When I put my hand on the doorknob, I felt something on my arm. I looked down and realized it was Iris’s hand, curled up inside of her sweatshirt. I lifted my gaze to meet hers.

  “How is she?” Iris asked. “Lucy, I mean.”

  My impulse was to brush her off, just like I had brushed off Elias earlier, but there was genuine concern in her eyes. I could tell that she really missed her friend.

  “She’s doing great. She and Jayden have plans to move in together once she gets cleared from the group home.”

  That information brought a smile to her lips. “Good.” She pulled away her arm. “I always thought that they belonged together. They were like a good love story, you know?”

  I thought about my old boyfriend, Justin, and how he was an egotistical ass. “Yeah, Lucy has one of the good ones.”

  “Perhaps the only one left,” Iris agreed.

  We exchanged good-byes and I started back down the hall toward the reception desk. After stopping an orderly for directions, I made my way to the large door that said STAFFING AREA. Behind this door, the decor was noticeably different. The aseptic white walls were exchanged for a softer cream, and the linoleum floor was removed and replaced with rich, rose carpeting. The lighting was better, and the quality of prints looked to be more expensive. Instead of plain metal doors, these doors were polished cherry. Each had a gold nameplate of one of the staff members.

  It didn’t take me long to find Dr. Polanski’s office. The door was closed. After a brief hesitation, I knocked on the solid wood frame.

  “Come in, Mia. We have a lot to discuss.”

  FIVE

  IF DR. POLANSKI’S office could be described in one word, that word would be “understated.” There were none of the fancy potted plants or rich wood furniture that would normally adorn a director’s office. Dr. Polanski seemed to be a woman of little pretense. As I walked over the beige Berber carpet, I realized that this seemed fitting. A successful director of a mental institution didn’t have time for frivolous things. She worried about budgets and staffing and patient care, not how pretty a picture would look over her desk.

  The room suited her, and someday, perhaps, it would suit me.

  “Please, have a seat.” The doctor leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in front of her.

  I took the large, cushioned chair opposite the sensible pine desk and put my things on the floor. Silence stretched as I waited for her to speak. Dr. Polanski said nothing, instead studying me with those dark, all-knowing eyes.

  I cleared my throat. “You wanted to see me?”

  “I did, although I’ve been thinking about your assignment while you were cleaning up. After what happened in group this morning, I’m not sure if letting you observe and converse with the patients is the best thing for everyone involved. Perhaps we should change your assignment.”

  I straightened and slid to the edge of my seat. “What happened this morning was a mistake. It won’t happen again. I promise.”

  Dr. Polanski made a noncommittal sound.

  “Please, Dr. Polanski. It is my life’s dream to do this. I belong here. Please give me this assignment.”

  Dr. Polanski tilted her head to the side. “You’ve said that before, even though part of me wonders if you might not be better suited to a position in the outpatient building, where patients come in weekly to meet with their psychiatrists.”

  “No, I want to do long-term care. I need to do long-term care.”

  “Why?”

  I swall
owed the lump in my throat and settled back in my seat. “As you know, I—I had a friend who was here.”

  “Lucy White, yes. I’m aware of that.”

  “Well, I knew how sick she was, and you helped her get better. I want to do that, too. I want to help people push their problems aside and focus on the future.”

  “Like you did.”

  I widened my eyes. “I don’t have any problems.” None that I openly talk about, anyway. I wanted to ask how Dr. Polanski was so perceptive, but then remembered that this was her job, and she was damn good at it. Perhaps a little too good.

  “Everyone has problems, Mia.” She steepled her fingers and tapped them together. “And sometimes it isn’t about ‘pushing their problems aside,’ but dealing with them.”

  I averted my gaze from her pensive features. “I don’t know. Maybe.” For some people, dealing with their problems might work, but not for me. I’d much rather bury them. It was simpler and more efficient that way. After that fateful night when Lucy got into her accident, I had considered seeing the school counselor, but in the end decided against it. I was glad I did. I was strong enough to handle things on my own. A school counselor wouldn’t have helped much.

  Not everyone was like me, though. Some people needed help, and I felt that I was the perfect person to help them.

  “I just saw the miracle you performed with Lucy and Jayden,” I said. “I want to be able to do that, too.”

  “I see.” Dr. Polanski hesitated a moment before continuing. “But you can help people who are outpatients, too. Why long-term care?”

  She was pressing, and I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I thought I had come in here to talk about my assignment, not to have her dig into my head. The longer I talked to my mentor, the more she was making me uncomfortable. Suddenly, the stark features of the room were no longer clean and orderly, but barren and washed out. What appeared to be a normal-size room when I walked in now seemed cramped.

  “I don’t understand. Why are you trying to move me into another department?” I asked.

  Dr. Polanski let out a long breath and shifted in her seat. “Taking care of patients with long-term mental illness takes a special kind of person.”