Embellished Truth & Polite Fiction

Carl walked slowly back to his room. The long hallway was empty and white. It was quiet enough that all Carl could hear was the soft shuffling of his slippers on the tile floor. The pale blue hospital issued pants and tunic were rough against his skin and he wondered if it would really be too much to ask them to use a smidge less starch in their laundry. Lunch in the cafeteria, group therapy, and then more time in the recreation room had him feeling tired and socially overwhelmed. As he neared his room, Carl thought he saw a hand reaching out through the doorway. It looked like a woman’s hand, long and slender.

That’s odd.. he thought to himself. Shaking his head, he looked down at his feet as he walked the last few yards to his door. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.. Looking up as he turned into his room, he saw in front of him a woman sitting on his bed. She looked a little like Sara but with blond hair. Her clothes were soaked with blood.

Carl closed his eyes and was immediately at the car again. The woman was in the passenger seat, staring back at him with an empty gaze. She was so still he wondered if she was even alive. The air was so stifling hot that it was nauseating. All around the car was barren land. Desert land with little more than tumbleweeds and the thin black ribbon of concrete extending in two directions – a lone path to and from civilization.

Carl stepped back from the car and looked up at the sky. It looked like it was late afternoon. The sun was a ball of orange heat, like a fire in a furnace, and the sky was turning a deep orangey purple near the horizon. The heat wave was still thick and his shoes still a clean bright red.

Carl looked back into the car. The woman still had not moved. He instinctively reached out to check her pulse. When his had was a few inches from her throat, her hand suddenly shot up and grabbed hold of his wrist, her eyes widening and her mouth opening as she gasped for breath. Her hand gripped his wrist tightly and her nails dug into his flesh. Carl froze in shock. He stared at the woman, her chest rising and falling, her thin fingers wrapped around his arm.

“Carl.”

Carl blinked his eyes.

“Carl.. can you hear me?”

It was John. Carl’s heart pounded in his chest and he breathed hard. Panic attack. Damn it. Carl tried hard to focus on John’s face as he sucked the air in wheezing gasps. John was holding tightly to Carl’s wrist and there was a blade in Carl’s hand. His eyes bulged. What the hell was I doing!? Fear made his blood run cold and Carl could suddenly feel every drop of sweat on his body like a million tiny ice cubes. He shivered.

“Carl. Are you ok? You scared me..” John looked in Carl’s eyes as he talked, trying to maintain connection with him. “Can I have the blade now, Carl?”

Carl nodded and John carefully removed the blade from Carl’s grip.

“Pl.. Please… Don’t put me back in the jacket..” Carl gasped. John looked at Carl, still holding his wrist, and his brow furrowed.

“You know that’s not up to me, Carl,” he answered. “But I will see what I can do..” He released his grip on Carl who lowered himself wearily onto the bed. There was no sign on of the woman, the bed was still clean and white. No blood.

“You ok, sir?” John asked. “I was a bit worried about you there. I have no idea how you got hold of any sharp objects or what you were planning to do with it, but I sure am glad I came to change your bed when I did. I suppose we’ll have to be a bit more watchful with you.” He gave Carl a stern look and tucked the blade into his coat pocket.

Perhaps he’ll just let it slide.. maybe he won’t tell..

Carl closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, waiting patiently for his heart to stop thumping like a hammer and reverberating through his skull.

After lunch was group session. Carl hadn’t been to one for a while, but he still remembered exactly what they were and what they entailed. He walked into the room with it’s shiny linoleum flooring and more hard plastic chairs. The cold blue seats were arranged in a circle in the center of the room and the other patients shuffled about, choosing their seats.

Carl vaguely recognized a few of the faces in the room but could not remember any names. They all seemed to recognize him though. He got a variety of reactions as each person’s eyes fell upon him. Some sneered. Some gave a weak smile of recognition. And others reacted with what seemed like fear before looking quickly away.

He wasn’t sure how to process all this. Should he chalk it up to being in a room full of crazy people? Or should he wonder at how these various reactions reflected upon him? Carl stepped tentatively into the circle and took a seat in one of the chairs. Straight across from him sat a large old woman with messy gray hair that was pulled into a knot at the back of her head. The stray locks of hair spread out like Medusa’s snakes from all angles around her head and her pale blue eyes stared at him with an emptiness he’d never seen. Carl wondered for a moment if she was even alive.

A tall, thin black man sat two seats to her left. He looked like any other normal person you might see on the street. Looking at him told Carl nothing of his mental state. Carl found these people most disturbing. He felt more comfortable with those who actually looked insane. It was as if they came with a warning label – you could see them coming. But the quiet normal looking ones – they were usually the ones who had problems with paranoia and, if you were really unlucky, violent anger and rage.

Beside the black man was and older man. Carl imagined he might be some wealthy business man that had gone over the deep end due to the strain and stress of his career. Perhaps he had been pulled off the roof of a building just before jumping.

The other side of the circle was empty, as of yet. Carl assumed the therapist would sit in one of the seats there. He was right. A young woman, who looked no older than 25, walked over to the chair and sat down. Her brown pencil skirt, leather pumps, and white coat gave her away. She set the clipboard on her lap and pulled her red curls into a pony tail. Carl could see her badge now. “Dr. Young”, it suited her just fine.

Dr. Young flipped through a few pages on her clip board and then began to clear her throat when suddenly Sara came wandering in, humming a light tune. Her eyes didn’t even seem to care to look at the group at all until she reached the circle of chairs and then she stopped. She stood, silent, and looked straight at Carl. A quirky half smile lit up her face and she sauntered over and took the seat beside him, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Good afternoon, Sara.” Dr. Young said with a smile. “How are you today?”

“Still crazy, Dr. Young.” Sara answered with a wink. Dr. Young laughed softly and turned her eyes back to her papers. She let out a small sigh and addressed the group with her gaze.

“Looks like everyone is here.” she announced. “Shall we get started?”

Carl stared at his feet. He hated those hospital slippers and wished again for his socks. He frowned in dismay as he remembered the apparent hallucination from that morning. His feet itched.

“Let’s go ahead and introduce ourselves since we have a newcomer this week.” Dr. Young began. Carl looked around at the group again. He assumed he was the newcomer since the only one in the room he knew was Sara. “Joe, let’s start with you..”

The Jumper stood up and quickly glanced around the circle. “I’m Joe.” he said in a soft nervous voice and sat down just as quickly. Mr. Normal stood up next and glanced around the circle calmly.

“I’m Xavier.” he said, and then lowered his lanky body back to the plastic chair. Next was Medusa. She stood to introduce herself and looked straight at Carl with her big round eyes as she fiddled with her gown.

“Martha.” she said, a bit more loudly than necessary. It sounded more like she was scolding a child than introducing herself.

“I’m Carl.” he said without standing. He simply raised a hand in a greeting that was met with only blank stares.

“Sara.” the woman beside him said in her soft lovely voice. Medusa smiled almost longingly at the sound.

“Alright then. Shall we get started?” Dr. Young looked down at her clipboard again for a moment and then looked across the circle to Xavier. “Xavier, since this is your first time with us, why don’t you share a little about yourself.”

Carl found himself somewhat dumbstruck. He had no real recollection of being in this room with this group. He had assumed that he was the newcomer here. How many times had he been here over the past 3 weeks? What had he shared here? How had he behaved. He barely heard anything Xavier said as his thoughts began bouncing around in his head like ping pong balls in a tin box.

The group therapy session went smoothly. There was sharing of how everyone’s week had been, ideas on better coping skills were mentioned, and then Dr. Young coached them through some meditation and relaxation. Well, most of them anyway. Medusa kept shouting random words out every time another step in the process was given. This usually resulted in giggles erupting through the entire group. Dr. Young was, overall, unruffled. But Carl sensed she was a bit frustrated. Still, he supposed it was something she had to accept as part of her job… working with crazy people.