Rowan’s eyes welled up with new tears. “Why wouldn’t I mean it? Why am I not allowed to feel this way?”
“Because—”
“God,” said Rowan. “I wish I could just die right now.”
“You’re going to be okay. You’ve just got to calm down first, and we’ll talk through this rationally. Can you do that for me? I’m here for you. You’re going to be okay.”
“Is that all you can say? That I’m going to be okay? No, it doesn’t work that way. It just doesn’t.”
“I just—”
“I just need some time alone,” said Rowan. “I don’t want to be here right now. Please leave me alone.”
The fingers that Caitlyn tried to grasp forcibly tore themselves away from hers. As Rowan fled around the corner, Caitlyn took one last lingering look down the empty pathway before rushing off to a place where she knew she needed to be.
Rowan, meanwhile, made his way to the restroom, where he remained perfectly still at the base of one of the mirrors. For a moment, he refused to look at himself, but as he finally looked up at the jagged crack that ran down the center of the glass, a rush of unease settled into his stomach. Didn’t he need to go confront Marcus and Ms. Helmsley? Or should he just listen to Caitlyn and pretend that everything was going to be okay even though there weren’t any signs to suggest that she was right? Regardless, staying in this bathroom wasn’t going to do him any favors. He needed to take action no matter what he decided to do. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave, and every glance he made at the door only made him feel even more uncomfortable.
A few minutes later, a woman’s voice pierced his ears. She was like a banshee whose wailing echo foretold him of his demise—and foretell his demise she did, as her voice had been cast through the unmistakable echo of the school’s intercom system, where she called out for him to come to the counselor’s office.
The boy picked his head up and slithered out of the bathroom, leaving a dense shroud of gloom in his wake. He was smart enough to know what the summoning implied, but he didn’t want to believe it. Was this really the end for him? It had to be. Each agonizing step he took reminded him of his now unattainable dream—the dream that a respectable university would still allow such a troublesome, failure of a student into their campus.
Rowan dragged his feet as he toiled his way down the hallway to the counselor’s office, stopping himself at a door next to a plaque that read:
COUNSELOR CLEVELAND
He braced himself before placing his hand on the rusted doorknob. He knew what was coming. Ms. Cleveland was either going to suspend him or expel him after hearing about his outburst, and then his future was ruined. He didn’t want to go inside her office. He just wanted to run and run—far away from this place and never come back. Everyone was already disappointed in him, and if they weren’t, they were about to be, and he didn’t want to show his face here ever again. If he faced Ms. Cleveland, it would only remind him of his failures. What good was it to even bother?
He resigned to his fate and pushed the door open. He held his head down in shame, and the stifling silence in the air did not encourage him to fix his posture. He just wanted to get this over with.
“Come on in, sweetie,” said a woman who sat behind a wide, mahogany desk. Her soothing voice sent forth an army of cherubs toward Rowan’s forlorn soul to wage war with the hesitance of his spirit. The alluring song had failed, however, as the boy was petrified by the gaze of the police officer in the corner of the room, whose stone-cold visage frightened the feeble cherubs away from their victim.
“Take a seat,” repeated Ms. Cleveland. “It’s okay. I promise you’re not in trouble.”
Rowan examined her smile before shutting the door behind him. “Then why is a police officer here?”
“Officer Garcia isn’t here to arrest you or punish you. We just want to ask you about what happened today.”
The boy finally took a seat in front of Ms. Cleveland. “Don’t I need a lawyer for this?”
The policeman spoke. “Listen. Whatever it is you’re thinking, we’re not here to treat you like a criminal. We’re both trying to help you out.”
“He’s telling you the truth, Rowan.” Ms. Cleveland leaned forward. “You’re a good kid, and we don’t want to see something terrible happen here.”
“Then let me go back to class. I never did anything wrong.”
“Rowan… you know that’s not the case here. You said something—”
“I didn’t mean it,” he whimpered. “I really didn’t.”
“It’s not about whether or not you really meant it. The problem here is… well… the school can be liable for not proceeding with caution under circumstances such as this. We take death threats very serious, as all people should.”
Ms. Cleveland ran her hands down her neck. “We’re arranging for you to get sent to the closest available psychiatric center. But just know that I don’t think you’re a bad kid. This is just something you need right now, even if you don’t know it.”
“But—”
“They’ll take care of you once you’re there. I promise you things will be okay.”
“Why the hell does everyone keep telling me that?”
Ms. Cleveland grinned. “If more than one person is telling you that, then that’s a good thing. It means you have people that support you. We’ll help you get through whatever it is you’re going through, and that’s why things will be okay.”
Officer Garcia grabbed his handheld transceiver. “We have a fifty-one-fifty over here at Fairfax High School. I’ll bring him over to the hospital as soon as I can.”
“A fifty-one-fifty?” asked Rowan.
Officer Garcia put his radio away and sat down on the desk to face the boy. “It’s a code we use for people who may be a danger to themselves or others.”
“But I’m not dangerous.”
“Maybe you aren’t. I personally don’t think you are. I just think you need help before you actually become dangerous, either to yourself or to others.”
Rowan fought the urge to cry. He didn’t belong in a mental hospital, did he? “How long am I gonna be gone?”
“I don’t know. It just depends on when the psychiatrist believes it’s time to release you.”
“Where is it?”
“Far. Ever since we got into international trouble, hospitals everywhere have gotten more and more overcrowded. Budget cuts have gotten worse—and we can’t bring you to a private practice. The only available state-funded psychiatric hospital in California right now is the Alfred Fymkie Psychiatric Center down in Los Angeles, which will take—”
“What? Los Angeles? How the hell am I supposed to be able to do any of my homework if I’m all the way over there? On top of that, aren’t I going to be missing all of my classes and I’ll start falling way too behind? I thought you guys were trying to help me, not ruin my fucking future.”
“Calm down, Rowan,” said Ms. Cleveland. “We’ll get you excused from your schoolwork, and—”
“You don’t understand. How am I going to be prepared for my AP tests? And what if I don’t make it to graduation because of this?”
“I sincerely wish that the psychiatric center was closer, Rowan. I really do. But this country and the people in it seem to not care too much about mental health issues. If you want someone to blame, don’t blame us.”
“Why don’t I just go see Caitlyn’s brother? He’s a psychologist. That way, I can stay here in San Jose.”
“Rowan, that’s not how things work.”
“Come on,” said Officer Garcia. “Let’s start the drive as early as possible so you can get back home before you miss too much.”
Rowan clenched his fists as he stood up from his seat. There wasn’t any use trying to argue anymore, so he followed his death sentence outside and refrained from turning around to see Ms. Cleveland’s somber, worrisome expression.
“I’m going to have to handcuff you as part of standard procedure, so stay calm
all right?”
The boy stood still and glanced up at the siren that towered above his school. At this moment, Rowan almost wished for it to go off. He wanted it to scream and shriek and set everyone off into a panic. Then, maybe people would understand how he felt, and he would no longer have to worry about school or college or succeeding anymore.
After suffocating Rowan’s thin wrists with cold steel, Officer Garcia placed him into the back of his sleek police cruiser. “Sit tight back there. The ride’s gonna be a long one. We have a couple of stops we need to make, and we’re going to have to stop for the evening somewhere along the way because I haven’t gotten any sleep in over thirty goddamn hours. I’ll get you checked into Alfred Fymkie tomorrow morning, all right?”
“So you’re gonna leave me in cuffs for an entire day?”
Officer Garcia turned away from him and started the ignition. “I’ll try not to.”
3
The ride to the hospital was long and grueling. Officer Garcia had forgotten to remove Rowan’s handcuffs prior to taking his desperate slumber, which only slightly bothered Rowan, as he, too, had fallen asleep for the entire day. When he finally woke up, he was left with a stiff, rigid neck that locked him into place on the cold, hard plastic seats of Officer Garcia’s police car.
It was morning now. The early chill of the Los Angeles air seeped into Rowan’s window, refrigerating him until his pains were numb and his fingers were tense. Officer Garcia pulled up to an iron gate that blocked off the back side of the hospital, but before he had the chance to roll his window down to speak to the guardsman, a small, slender man dressed in blue scrubs came outside and let them in.
Officer Garcia opened the car door that Rowan was leaning against. “All right, it’s time to go get checked in.”
Rowan climbed out of the car one foot at a time, slowly turning his body around so Officer Garcia could remove his handcuffs. He didn’t feel liberated at all even though he could now freely move his arms, as it didn’t seem like he would be getting out of this place any time soon; however, he was going to try his best to get through this process as fast as possible, because if he didn’t, his life really was going to end poorly. He needed to behave.
The hospital staff member led Rowan and Officer Garcia into the check-in area of the psychiatric ward, where distinctly metal seats lined the edges of the room. It was a fairly cramped space, but nobody else was here, so Rowan decided to sit patiently for a few minutes until Officer Garcia finally approached him with a mild beckon.
“We’ve got your paperwork set up. Just follow Nurse Maria into that door right there.”
Rowan obliged and trailed Nurse Maria, who waddled over to a leather seat situated next to a height chart and a weight scale.
“I need your phone, your belt, your shoes, and your wallet please.”
The boy handed her his belongings and stepped onto the weight scale. She adjusted the manual slider and wrote down his weight: 148 pounds. Rowan then turned around and placed his back against the machine, flinching slightly as the height measuring tool brushed the top of his head.
“Seventy-two inches.”
The nurse handed Rowan a hospital gown and directed him to a bathroom near the entrance. He rushed into a stall to change. As he slipped on the gown, a rush of cold air invaded the surface of his bare skin and forced him to shiver.
“Here,” he said as he gave the last of his belongings to Nurse Maria. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“You wait until the doctor wants to see you. Take a seat somewhere and relax for now.”
Rowan surveyed his surroundings. The ivory walls, which were barren except for a single inoperable payphone in the corner of the room, were blotched with black and beige scrapes, almost as if someone had tried to tear straight through them. There was a plastic-covered couch situated in front of the room’s only TV, where old men with empty stares were watching a looping video of a lily pad floating across a pond of calm water. Rowan wandered over to an empty lounge chair nearby and slowly sat himself down onto the edge of the seat in order to avoid the dark red blemish in the center of the cushion.
“The world is gonna fucking end!”
Rowan quickly looked around and noticed a tall, emaciated woman dancing toward him.
“Everything will be gone. You too, boy. All of us.” She pointed at a man who was licking scars on his wrists.
“But if we survive this culling, then the pain won’t be over. The doctors… they’ll experiment on us. They don’t like us. They don’t—”
“Connie, come with me please,” said a nurse who rushed over to the woman. He held a small Dixie cup in his right hand, which he grasped tightly as he guided Connie toward another room.
“This place is evil! You’re evil!”
“I’m taking you somewhere safe, okay? Just come with me.”
Rowan watched as Connie struggled with the nurse by her side. The two of them disappeared behind a door that required a keycard to enter, and it was as if nothing had even happened at all. None of the other patients seemed to care about what was going on.
Relieved and thankful for the nurse who came to his rescue, Rowan extended his legs forward to stretch them, but he ended up nearly tripping a small, gaunt man dressed in white scrubs.
“Sorry,” said Rowan.
The man turned to him and smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”
He proceeded to walk away until Rowan called out to him. “Hey, you’re a doctor here right?”
“Yes, why?”
“Do you guys have any books here, by any chance? I want to read so I can actually be productive while I’m in here, and maybe I can get ahead of my class.”
“Unfortunately, books aren’t allowed in this hospital because they can be used as weapons. Someone threw a few of them a couple of years ago.”
“Oh… all right then, I guess.”
“I’m sorry. I know it’s tough having nothing to do here, but you’ll get through this. Rowan, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m Dr. Robinson. Just hang in there, Rowan. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The boy nodded. “Okay, thanks.”
Dr. Robinson walked off and passed by a man being wheeled in by a nurse. She helped the man get off of the wheelchair and she sat him down in the chair directly to Rowan’s left.
“Thank you, you’re the best,” said the man.
“You’re very welcome, Brian. Just call me if you need anything else, okay?”
“I will, don’t worry.”
Rowan cocked his head slightly and took a quick look at the man, whose neck was lined with stitches and bloody bandages. A single tube extended out of his neck.
The boy thought about saying something to him, but he decided to keep to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, however, Rowan noticed that the man was staring at him.
“Hey there,” said the man, who rested his palms in between his knees. “You look like you’re having fun.”
Rowan turned his head and unintentionally rested his eyes on the man’s neck. “I… uh, well, no, not really. There’s nothing to do here.”
“Sorry to bother you, but I’m trying to fix that problem myself. A little conversation can’t hurt, right?”
Rowan relaxed his shoulders. “Sure. My name’s Rowan.”
“I’m Brian. I’d shake your hand, but they don’t allow physical contact between patients here.”
“Makes sense.”
“Exactly. I’m sure you’ve seen some things ever since you got here.” The heavy wrinkles on Brian’s face were exaggerated by a bulky grin that Rowan assumed was oppressing his true nature.
“I actually just got here not too long ago, so I haven’t really seen much. The only weird thing that’s happened so far after I got checked in was this woman talking to me about the world ending.”
“A lot of patients here talk about that kind of stuff. What did she look like?”
“Tall. Skinny. I think she had blue eye
s. The nurse called her Connie.”
“Oh! Her. She’s a nice woman if she’s on her meds, but she doesn’t like taking them, so the doctors have been on her case about it. I’m pretty sure they make one of the nurses get up in her face to make sure that she takes her pills now.”
“Yeah, the nurse took her into some room, I think. Is she violent?”
“Not from what I’ve seen. How about you? Are you violent?”
“Me?”
“I’m just curious. Why are you here?”
Rowan wasn’t quite sure about whether or not he should be honest. “It’s kind of a long story. I said something stupid just because I’ve been stressed out about going to college, and now I’m paying the price.”
Brian laughed. “The things we say can get us into a lot of trouble.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Rowan paused and looked at the ground next to Brian’s feet. “I don’t mean to be rude, but, how about you? What are you in here for?”
“You’re not being rude. It’s fair game since I asked you about your predicament first. And, well, this is kind of personal, but, Dr. Robinson says it’s helpful to talk things out.” Brian leaned forward and rested his elbows in between his thighs. “It was my 40th birthday a few days ago. I had bought a lot of alcohol that day, hoping that I could share it with people… with somebody. But no one showed up. I drank and I drank and I convinced myself that nobody loved me, because, well, if someone loves you, wouldn’t they show up to your 40th birthday party?”
“I—”
“Don’t answer that question. You’re young. I don’t want to make you worry too much about an existential crisis that hasn’t happened to you yet, if at all. Anyway, I must’ve downed an entire bottle of vodka within half an hour. I’m surprised I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning. I sat there crying my eyes out, wondering if there was anyone who cared about me enough to wish me a happy birthday. I just felt so worthless. I’m a deadbeat forty year old with almost no friends, and I haven’t done a single noteworthy thing in my whole life.”
Brian placed his hands around his neck. “I decided that the best way to escape from this pain once and for all was to kill myself. I took a kitchen knife, which was still sitting underneath my birthday cake, and I slashed my throat. Suddenly, I was in the hospital. My sister was sitting there right next to me, bawling her eyes out. I felt so terrible. I was wrong to think that nobody out there loved me. When someone’s love isn’t readily available to you, you often make the same judgment that I did, but… that isn’t the point about love. People still care about you—no matter the distance, no matter the circumstance, and in my drunken sadness, I forgot that.”
Seasons After Fall Page 3
