by Jamie Mackay
***
Friday morning's run was extra long but completed in outstanding time, so Tatum decided that she would use up some of her extra morning minutes by adding a few additional training exercises to the small amount of strength training she did each day. Even at the end of her extended work-out, she still felt as if she had energy to burn.
Despite her expectation, she had fallen asleep easily and had slept like a log. Thank god for alcohol, she thought to herself when she realized she had slept, in place of spending the night fretting like she'd expected. She showered and dressed quickly, she needed some Milligan time this morning.
.
"Jake? Do you mean Jake Mackinley?" Milligan asked.
Tatum realized she didn't even know Jake's last name. Embarrassed by her oversight she responded "Pete's grandson. Home Hardware Pete."
"He picked you up for coffee yesterday?" Milligan seemed genuinely shocked by Tatum's disclosure. "He hasn't looked at a woman in five years. I guess he told you about Julia?"
Tatum nodded.
"Sweet girl. Childhood sweethearts them two. Pete and Jake's parents have tried everything to make it right for him, but nothing ever helps. He just works; I guess keeping busy keeps his mind off Julia. Did he mention the boy?"
"Yeah, he did. Brady, right?"
"Yup, sounds right. Spends lot of time with Pete at the hardware store while his dad is out of town. Good kid. Quiet like his dad. Polite."
"Jake said he lives at his parents' farm so that they can help with Brady. But what about Julia's family, where are they?"
"Moved up North a couple of years back. Think there were just too many memories here. Brady goes to stay with them sometimes, and I think he and Jake both visit when Jake needs to go North for work."
"Jake's a good guy?" Tatum asked.
"You bet he's a good guy. The kind of guy that deserved better. Tough break, losing his wife so young like that. That kind of thing you never recover from." Milligan made his last comment with a kind of decisiveness that only a man with insider experience could have.
"So you guys went for coffee? What about Niko? Did you finally get up the guts to read his text?" Milligan asked, half teasing, half serious.
Tatum nodded.
"So?"
Tatum got out her phone so that she could read, rather than trying to do it from memory. "I love you. I miss you. I'll wait," she read.
"Hmmm," said Milligan. "And what do you think about that?"
"I don't know what to think, got any advice?"
"I'd love to help you out," said Milligan with a grin, "But I learned long ago, never give advice to a woman. Somehow, no matter how it turns out, something will end up being my fault."
.
Tatum had dressed in her most casual work outfit yet. Khakis, boat shoes, and a light t-shirt made her walk to work comfortable and quick. As she walked she thought about her conversation with Milligan. She thought about Niko; eventually she would have to answer him. She thought about Jake and Brady, and Jake's impending invitation for the Wainwright parade and fair. She expected she would say yes to the invitation, and evaluate the consequences of her decision later.
Not like me thought Tatum to herself to consider the consequences later. She found herself surprisingly proud of her notion to go against her traditionally over-cautious nature.
.
Tatum arrived at work in plenty of time and decided it was a good day to spend a few minutes getting to know Marja, since she was the first face Tatum saw every morning.
"Good Morning Marja," began Tatum. "How are you today? Glad it's Friday?" Tatum knew from her other jobs that Friday was a day most office workers looked forward to with anticipation.
"You bet I am," the front desk worker answered.
"Got any big plans?" Tatum continued, trying to prolong the conversation.
"Big no. Plans yes. Bob and I usually head out to his family's cabin at Nuki Lake on the weekends. It's not much, but it gets us away from work."
"Nice," said Tatum. "Just the two of you?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes some of his family is out there too. But, this weekend sounds like it's just us, and it's supposed to be a bit cooler I think. That'd be nice. How about you? Got any plans for the weekend?"
Tatum was pleased that Marja seemed to want to reciprocate her conversational initiative. "Nothing in particular. I found a yoga class for Saturday morning I like so I'll go to that. Then, I've still got quite a bit left to do to get my apartment together."
"That sounds nice," Marja said with genuine interest in her voice, "Will feel good to get it all done and set up. Maybe sometime after you're all done, I could pop by and see what you've done with the place?"
Once again, Tatum was pleased at Marja's underlying offer of friendship. "Name the time. I'll buy the wine," Tatum responded with a smile as she pushed open the door; Marja had just buzzed to let her through.
.
Tatum's office was exactly as she had left it the day before, old and uncomfortable. She knew her first task of the morning would be to put the final touches on the reports she had drafted the day before. She was anxious to talk with Dr. Glaser about her research placement as well, so before she opened the files, she drafted an email. "Hi Tim, Would it be possible to meet later today? I am nearly finished with these reports and I was hoping we could get together for feedback on my work with the clients as well as the written information. Is there a chance you have a few minutes to meet after lunch? Best, Tatum."
She clicked send, hopeful that she would have a positive response quickly. She definitely wanted feedback, since learning her trade was the reason she was at WMI, but she was equally as hopeful that she would be able to work her research component into their conversation.
Putting the final touches on her reports took even less time than she expected. She had complete, printed reports in her hand by eleven o'clock. Knowing she wouldn't leave for lunch until just after twelve, Tatum quietly closed her door and made her way over to the filing cabinets sitting behind her against the far back wall. To her disappointment she found the cabinets locked.
"Bing." In her state of nervous hypervigilance, the noise from behind her made her jump. Geez, it was just an email Tatum, calm down, she thought as she went to check her computer.
"Hi Tatum, after lunch sounds good. Please bring the files and reports for us to go over. See you in the board room at one. Tim."
Already at her desk, Tatum found herself rummaging madly through the drawers of the dated work table. Not certain what exactly she was looking for, she pulled at the contents, emptying items onto the desktop as she worked. Pens, pencils, paperclips, a stapler, and some sticky note pads appeared from the top drawer. In the second drawer, Tatum found filing folders, each one well organized with a series of required paperwork. Forms for families to complete for intake, family visitation agreements, treatment records and other blank forms that might be required by workers seeing patients. Will come in handy, I'm sure, Tatum thought as she familiarized herself with the contents of the second drawer. Similar to the second drawer, the third drawer held blank forms, but this time the well organized paperwork included therapy worksheets that might come in handy when working directly with patients. Stress reduction exercises, self-esteem boosters, assertiveness worksheets, pretty typical stuff.
Determined to find some evidence of access to the filing cabinets somewhere deep in the drawer, Tatum methodically removed and inspected each file in both the second and third drawer. As she suspected, underneath the files in the third drawer, a small thumb size opening caught her eye. Tatum stuck her thumb into the crevice intended for lifting and found that she was able to easily raise a second bottom in the cabinet drawer. Under the second bottom, she found a set of keys, small like those that might be intended to fit into the lock on a filing cabinet.
Taking the keys over to the locked document holders at the far end of her office, she started with the cabinet furthest to the left. Each of the cabinets was
a full-sized legal cabinet, four drawers high. As Tatum started to unlock the cabinet, she could tell by its feel that it was nearly empty. She felt a pang of disappointment at this realization. Despite knowing her search was likely a bust, she unlocked the file and then slowly opened the first, second, third, and fourth drawer of the first filing cabinet. She was frustrated to confirm that no remnants of client files or other historical information remained.
As was her tendency, Tatum continued to work through the three remaining filing cabinets in an organized fashion so that she carefully inspected each drawer of each cabinet in order. It wasn't until the last drawer on the final cabinet that she found any evidence of information from years gone past.
Laying flat on the bottom of the third drawer, she saw four separate file folders. Each of the files was obviously worn, as if both old and well viewed over the years. Tatum slowly lifted the file folders out of the cabinet, being careful not to disturb any contents. She opened the first file and browsed through the items in front of her. Tatum was unable to find any evidence of a patient's name on the paperwork. She noted dates from the 1960s and references to Unit Four. Slowly, and as methodically as she had completed the rest of her inspection, she moved on to the remaining files. Similar to the first file, Tatum noted odds and ends in the subsequent files; free of patient names, but clearly from several decades previous and related to patients stationed on the living units.
On the final file, Tatum flipped through quickly, expecting its contents to be similar to the files previous. Essentially she was correct. The final file folder contained bits and pieces of information about a client from Unit Four. However, the final file was not from decades past. Instead, the record appeared to be dated only less than a decade previous. Tatum looked more carefully at the most recent profile, until something on several of the forms definitely caught her attention. At the bottom of several sheets, where the attending professional was typically required to sign, Tatum read the name Julia Mackinley.
.
Tatum rubbed her eyes. She thought perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, and that she had read the name incorrectly based on the information Jake had shocked her with just the night before. Tatum carefully reviewed the signature line on the page in front of her face. Having taken a second look, Tatum was confident that the social worker on this case file was indeed Julia MacKinley.
Tatum felt goose bumps rise on her skin. Was this her office? Tatum wondered. Why would she have put these files in a locked cabinet and hidden the key? Tatum could hardly contain all of the questions that were furiously running through her head.
As she attempted to regain her composure, the distinct sound of footsteps approaching could be heard in the hallway outside of her office. Tatum quickly grabbed the keys, fumbled with the lock and neatly placed all of the file folders in the fourth cabinet exactly as she had found them. Then she moved smoothly over to her desk, placed the keys underneath the second floor of the third drawer and, as if she had been completing the task methodically for some time, she began organizing and returning the file folders to she had taken from drawer three.
A quick knock at the door and Tatum heard Anne's smiley voice.
"Hey Doc, got any time for lunch today?"
"You bet I do," Tatum replied, swallowing her nervousness at nearly having been caught snooping.
"Down to the cafeteria and out to the staff courtyard?" Anne suggested.
"That sounds perfect," responded Tatum sincerely. "I'll walk with you to the cafeteria then I'll meet you in the courtyard if you don't mind? I just have a quick errand to do before I can eat."
.
Tatum and Anne made their way back through the maze of hallways and found their way down to the cafeteria. As they walked, Tatum enjoyed the friendly conversation Anne offered. She had been missing her familiar surroundings and feeling a bit homesick, so Anne's maternal tendencies were comforting.
"Got any more information from Tim?" Anne asked.
"Not yet, but I e-mailed him earlier today and we have a meeting set for one o'clock, right after lunch."
"You get up the guts to ask him about the research practicum?" the nurse asked. She knew that Tatum was feeling anxious about her ability to gain access to the research unit.
"First, I thought I'd get him to go over my work so far and have him check my reports. Then, I'll try to sneak getting access to the research unit into our conversation" Tatum said with a grin.
"Well good luck honey. Sometimes Tim's not so good at subtleties. You may have to hit him over the head a little, keep him from falling asleep while you talk." They both laughed.
.
Tatum and Anne reached the cafeteria where they both chose a prepackaged salad in place of the already arranged to-go lunches that Tatum had made her routine until today. Each of them paired their salad with a piece of cheesecake. Something about having salad for lunch made eating dessert seem justified.
After they paid for their chosen fare, Tatum reminded Anne that she would meet her outside.
"I'll be right out to meet you, I just need to quickly run an errand. Be there in five."
Anne started up the stairs to the corridor leading to the staff courtyard. Although it was the same corridor that would normally have taken Tatum where she intended to go, she chose an alternate route leading to the heavy security door protecting Unit Three. Ensuring that she avoided accidentally running into her friend as Anne made her way to the staff courtyard, Tatum checked around corners and down hallways before making her way through the heavy door into her destination unit.
Once inside, Tatum quickly moved over to her familiar seat beside James.
"Hi James. It's me Tatum." She said as she did every day. "I'm going to have to make our visit short today; someone I work with has asked me to meet over lunch. It's Friday, so I probably won't see you again until Monday and I wanted to make sure that I came by to wish you a good weekend."
No response.
"Okay James, I gotta run. I'll see you on Monday my friend." Tatum ensured that her last comment was made on an upwards inflection so that James would not catch the disappointment in her voice about being unable to visit with him for nearly 3 days.
Tatum looked back and found she was watching more intently than she had in the past. She knew she could not expect James to ever show any response to her offers of friendship, but she could always hope.
.
Eating outside with Anne turned out to be a real pleasure. In comparison to the previous time they had enjoyed the staff courtyard together, the heat was less intense, and the stately marble fixtures were a temperature comfortable for sitting.
"So," started Anne with a smirk, "I heard through the grapevine that Jake MacKinley took you for coffee?"
"Oh, that's it," Tatum said playfully. "Wanted to have lunch with me so you could pump me for information, did you?"
Even if Anne's offer for lunch was primarily driven by the desire for gossip, Tatum appreciated her company and was glad that she had asked.
"So? Did he?" Anne continued to push curiously.
"It was just coincidence," said Tatum "I got caught in the rain yesterday, looked like a drowned rat, he picked me up out of pity".
"And did he take you out for coffee out of pity too?" Anne teased. "You know that he's this town's most eligible bachelor, don't you? Every single woman in town has been trying to get him to give her a look for years."
Tatum was privately pleased that she had been the one he chose to receive his coveted glance.
"We're just friends," Tatum explained. "He has a son you know?" Tatum made her last comment with a more serious tone.
"Yes, he certainly does," replied Anne. "And he's a good boy. I hope someday they find a woman that fills the empty space in both their lives." Anne made her last comment with a wink at Tatum.
Tatum wasn't sure exactly what she was insinuating.
.
Slightly after one, Tatum saw Tim's typically disheveled figure star
t to make his way down the hallway toward the board room. It was Friday, the end of the workweek, and it showed in Tim's appearance. As usual, his clothing looked too large, like he had borrowed it from his older brother. But today, the too large appearance was further deteriorated by the obvious fact that he had worn the same clothes several days in a row. His face looked even deeper set and grayer than usual.
"Hello Tatum," said Tim, "How did the report writing go?"
"Well, it was nice to have my own space. My office needs a little work to brighten it up, but it does the job just fine. And the computer works well, so my report writing went okay."
"That's excellent, can I take a look?"
"Of course, I have them here."
Tatum sat quietly while Tim considered the completeness and quality of the work. Tim seemed unconcerned about the fact that Tatum was waiting with little to do. He took much more time with her work than she had anticipated.
"These are very well done. Good job. I think we'll just submit 'as is'."
Tatum wanted to take Tim's confidence in her work as a complement, but she feared he might be willing to accept anything if it meant he had no more work to do.
"And the rest of my work, with the clients, do you have any feedback for me?"
Tim looked contemplative, as if he was trying to think of something profound to say.
"You did good. You're good with the patients, they like you. That's most of the battle. If they like you, you can get stuff done, if they don't, good luck." He paused. "They like you," he repeated, as if to make a statement.
"And next week, more of the same?" Tatum asked, hoping to segue into a request to see the research unit and get some more time with Dr. Fraser.
"How would you feel about going it alone next week? I think you'd be fine."
"I'm good with going it alone on any assessment, but I would still like to have some back up on the therapy appointments. Do you think that would be okay?"
"I think that would work fine. You could just let me know if there was something you wanted me there for. Just give me a bit of notice, okay? Otherwise I might fill the spot."
"I can totally do that. Also, Dr. Glaser?" He looked at her questioningly, aware that she must want something in order to refer to him formally. "Is there any chance you could help me get started on my research practicum? In the description of my program, I was under the impression I would be working on the Research Unit on Fridays."
"Of course," said Tim, "We can definitely take care of that."
Tatum wasn't sure how she felt about his response. It was so blasé and unsuspicious that she actually found herself disappointed. She'd become a bit enamored with her multiple scenarios for why she lacked access to Unit Six.
"How about we plan to use next Friday to get acquainted with the facility? We could maybe go talk with some of the Research Associates about some of the stuff they have going on right now. I'm not as familiar with all of the studies as I should be, but I think there are several you might be interested in. Like therapy effectiveness stuff. You know the age old question, 'Does therapy improve mental health'? We've been studying it for decades, and we'll be studying it for decades more. What do you think?"
"I'm not sure. I guess I want to believe it's helpful, or I guess I wouldn't have chosen this field. But, I understand the skepticism. I felt kind of defeated when I watched the session with Liz the other day."
"Yeah," Tim confirmed Tatum's previous impression, "Sometimes it's more for the families. Have you been involved in any ground-breaking studies you could dazzle me with?"
"I've certainly worked in some labs, but ground-breaking? I don't know if I'd go that far. Mostly cognitive neuroscience kinds of things. Computer experiments using the student subject pool, functional MRI studies, stuff like that. I'm anxious to see some research based less on a lab model and more on a real-world model."
"Well, we can certainly offer that," Tim assured her.
.
Tatum was going to continue to push Dr. Glaser about her needing access to Unit Six so that she could get started with the tour and continue with other research activities, but their conversation got interrupted. A sound unlike Tatum had never heard filled the air. The only way she could think to describe the sound was as an airhorn; although she'd never actually heard an airhorn, so she was unsure if the description was accurate. The sound was similar to what she imagined London had sounded like during the Bliztkrieg of the Second World War.
Tatum felt as if she jumped out of her skin, but Tim seemed barely ruffled by the intense noise.
"What's that?" Tatum yelled at Tim, wondering if there was any way to be heard over the blasting sound.
"Code Orange," Tim yelled back as if she should know what a Code Orange was.
Tatum shrugged her shoulders and lifted the corner of her face as if to say, "Okay, but what's that?"
"Suicide attempt," Tim explained "Let's go."
Tatum followed Tim as he walked her out toward the main corridor and looked at an instrument panel that made no sense to his intern. Having gotten whatever information he was looking for from the panel, Tim motioned to Tatum to follow him and he led her into an atrium that provided one of the non-clinical spaces between the units. In the atrium Tatum saw nurses and doctors bending over a gurney. The gurney held a patient that the health care workers were madly trying to revive. Tim must have noticed the apparent horror moving across Tatum's face because he was careful to reassure her.
"Don't worry. This is a mental hospital, happens all the time. Get used to it."
Tatum wasn't sure she wanted to get used to this.
She continued to watch the commotion until finally the physician in charge had used the AED unit several times unsuccessfully. He stood back from the gurney and said "Time of death 3:36."
As he spoke, Tatum watched his helpers start to prepare the recent corpse for transfer. Similar to what she'd seen in the movies, Tatum watched as the nurses pulled the blankets up and over the patient so that his face was concealed. As they worked Tatum watched intently. She thought to herself that it was sort of like watching a bad accident; she found herself wishing she could, but unable to look away. As they moved and fussed, she caught a quick glimpse of the patient. Male, probably middle aged, heavy and wearing purple issue. Purple, thought Tatum, haven't seen that one yet. Must be U4 or U5.
As they wheeled the patient out, Tatum noticed that nearly all the emergency staff had already departed. Everyone was quickly moving back to 'work as usual'.
.
With her first full week at the Units under her belt, Tatum felt exhausted and emotionally drained as she made her way slowly along the few blocks from work to her apartment. The afternoon's events had seemed as if nothing to the rest of the staff, but had taken Tatum by surprise. She wasn't used to seeing people die before her eyes and wasn't sure she could get used to it. Some dinner, a long hot bath and bed looked very inviting.
