Embellished Truth & Polite Fiction

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.

It felt like an eternity until John returned. Carl lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes and wished himself away from that little white cell.

He was walking along a freeway. It was hot and humid. The horizon was a blur in the thick heat wave that slowly undulated and pulsed as he trudged along. He blinked the dust away from his eyes and could see a small dot appear on the horizon. It took him a moment before he could even tell if it was moving or stationary. By the time he figured out that it was definitely not in motion, he could see that it was a vehicle.

Carl pushed just a little harder, looking down at the dusty road beneath his feet. Rocks and weeds tangled along the roadside and he wondered at how his tennis shoes could stay such a bright shade of red as he walked along such a dirty road. Red. He could not recall ever purchasing a pair of bright red tennis shoes. They stood out against the dull brown earth, odd and out of place.

A little more walking and he could see that the black spot had morphed into a small blue sedan that appeared to be abandoned on the side of the road. As the heat and sunshine swirled around it, making it look as though it were under water, he realized that both front doors were open on the vehicle. Carl found this quite peculiar and pushed just a little harder to reach it sooner, curiosity overtaking him and urging him on.

Reaching the vehicle, Carl peered inside one of the open doors, cautiously. He was clueless as to what he might find inside the car and was almost afraid to look. There was not a soul to be found for miles. He felt completely alone. It was just Carl and the car. The little blue car with the seats covered in blood.

Carl sat up quickly, trying to catch his breath. He clutched his chest and worried that his eyes would pop out of his head. All around him was blinding white. It took a minute for him to remember where he was. His eyes adjusted and his pulse slowed. It was almost as if he’d stepped out into bright sunshine from inside a dark room.

The bolt clicked in the door. The knob squeaked. John walked in just as Carl managed to regain his composure.

“Ready for lunch, sir?” he loved the way that John called him ‘sir’. Even if it was more of a nickname or term of endearment. It still felt good. Especially since everyone seemed to think he was off his rocker. It was nice to have someone express even that small amount of respect and care.

“Yeah.” Carl sucked in the air around him. Sterile and stagnant, yet still such a comfort. A feeling of dismay seeped in as he realized how familiar this place had become and how attached he had become to it.

John stood in the door way and waited. Carl rose on unsteady legs and walked toward him. He had the urge to run. He had the urge to hit John – not necessarily enough to injure him, but enough to stun him so that he could get past him and make way for an exit. But he didn’t even know which way that would be. And he knew all exits would be guarded. No. That would not work.

In the cafeteria, every flavor du jour of eccentric individual could be found. People that you thought might be a little off and people that were so obviously out there that you figured it was an act. But it wasn’t. And Carl had to remind himself that he was one of them. He wondered if anyone in that room really felt that they belonged there. He wondered what kind of experiences they’d had and what it was like to be inside their heads. He wondered if any of them felt crazy.

He took a seat at an empty round table and avoided making eye contact with anyone. A woman came and sat beside him just a moment after his body made contact with the cold plastic chair. She had long brown hair and huge green eyes. They stared at him, big and round. He did not look back at her, but he could feel her staring at him.

“What’s your name?” she asked. Her voice was surprisingly sweet. Carl supposed that it would be raspy and maybe a little deep, like one who’d spent years upon years chain smoking.

“Carl.”

“I’m Sara.” she answered quickly, stretching out her hand to him. He took it begrudgingly and gave a quick shake. Her fingers were thin and icy. “What’re you in for?” she asked.

Carl looked up at her now. What kind of question was that? This wasn’t a prison, it was a hospital. Right? He hadn’t committed some crime to end up in here, had he?

“Um..” he looked back at the table, feeling rather self-conscious and unsure what to say. “I’m not real sure.” he said finally, staring at the table and studying the fine lines of the fake plastic wood grain that covered the pressed particle board.

Sara leaned slowly back in her chair and eyed him suspiciously.

“I suspected as much.” she concluded, studying him with those big round eyes. They looked like great shining marbles set into her pale face.

Carl got up from the table, wanting to escape this stranger’s sudden interest in him and walked over to a nearby window. He looked out over the hospital grounds and gazed at the stone wall that ran along the perimeter of the yard. It was all a welcome sight for him. Looking out windows had become a treasured privilege for him during his time at Stalworth Institution. It didn’t seem fair, really. It seemed rather dumb that they would think cutting one off from all outside life and locking them in an empty sterile room would somehow improve their mental state.

The yard was specked with small figures dressed in white. He wished he could be one of them. If I could just behave myself.. he thought to himself. If I just knew how to do that… He sighed.

“I’d like to go out, too.” Sara was there beside him again. He looked at her, annoyed. She looked back at him with a very serious expression. “I’ve tried to kill myself 15 times.”

Carl didn’t know what to say. He wanted to tell her that she obviously didn’t really want to die if she’d attempted suicide that many times and continued to fail. Who’s attention was she trying to get? But he figured that was not a polite thing to say to a crazy person. He just stared back at her.

Sara turned and stared out the window, her brown hair nearly shrouding her face. “I don’t know why I even try anymore.” she said, finally.

Carl suddenly understood. Not that he didn’t really understand before. But now he got it. He could relate. Somehow, he felt an unwelcome connection to her.