A few minutes later, a new person entered the room, someone I'd not seen before. She had blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, a pleasant, if somewhat weary face, and a white cardigan sweater. She looked about as un-medical as the strange woman I'd seen beat her hasty retreat.
"Mister Richmond?" she asked pleasantly.
"Yes," I replied, looking past her to the rapidly diminishing crack between the door and the doorframe.
She arched an eyebrow. "Is everything all right?"
"Did you see a woman in a long coat leave here a few minutes ago?"
Now she frowned. "No." She shook her head. "I didn't see anyone like that."
"Well, there was a strange woman in here, and she looked like something out of the 1940s. It was the damnedest thing. She seemed surprised that I could even see her."
"Did she say anything to you?"
"No. She just turned and beat it out of here. She didn't look pleased at all."
The woman crossed her arms and bit her lip. "I'll have to report this to security. It's very disturbing. If you don't her, and she obviously isn't staff, then she no business being in here."
I stared at the now-closed door and let my eyes unfocus. "I hope I didn't just imagine it."
She unfolded her arms and let out a breath. "Well, Mister Richmond, if you're doubting your senses, that's a good sign that they're probably working just fine."
I refocused and looked up at her. "Are you another psychologist?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm a social worker."
I sighed and let my head slump back on the pillow. "Great. Just what I need."
The corner of her mouth twitched up just a touch. "They told me to expect that."
I let my eyes slide over to her direction. "Expect what?"
"Your attitude."
"My attitude."
"Yes, your attitude."
"What attitude?"
"Evidently you put up quite the tough armor."
"Why don't you leave that to the psychologists."
"I'm not here to evaluate your psychological condition."
"Then why are you here?"
"To find out what kind of life you live. What your social situation is like. How you interact with other people."
I snorted and looked away from her. "I interact with other people just fine. You can check my report card. It says 'plays well with others.' It's all there in black and white."
"I see."
"You see what?"
"I see that it going to take a lot to get anywhere with you."
"And where, exactly, do you want to get?"
"I want to get to the point where I know you're safe to be left alone."
"I like being alone."
"Do you, now?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."
"Well, in case you've forgotten, the last time you were alone, you tried to kill yourself."
I narrowed my eyes and looked at her hard. "No. I hadn't forgotten."
"So you'll forgive us if we don't give you much time to yourself while you're in here."
I grunted. "Fine. Touché."
She smiled. "Well, that's something I'll have to write in my journal today. I scored a point in my battle of wits with Jack Richmond."
I laughed. "You've got a pretty pathetic life if that's the highlight of your day."
"I didn't say it was the highlight. I just said it was noteworthy."
I looked at the ceiling. "Okay, you've worn me out. Happy now?"
Her smile diminished but did not completely disappear. "I think I've found out what I need to know." She turned towards the door. "At least for now. We'll talk again soon."
"Great. I'll count the seconds. The thought of your charms will keep me from even considering killing myself again."
"Well, that's something, anyway."
She stepped to the door, paused for a moment to look back at me. With another slight smile, she was gone.
I chuckled to myself. "Now that," I said to the ceiling, "was one hell of a woman."
I communed with the ceiling for another few minutes before the door opened again. I turned my head to find Lydia returning to my beside. She moved slowly, almost uncertainly. Her expression was unreadable, her eyes sunken and hooded.
"Somebody's dog die?" I asked.
She paused halfway to the bed, her eyebrows angling towards each other like a pieces of a broken rain gutter. She flared her nostrils and then stomped to the far wall, grabbing a chair and dragging it back to the bed. The legs made a whining, vibrating sound as she pulled the chair towards me. Finally, she picked the chair up, slammed it onto the floor, and dropped into it.
"What the fuck is your problem?" she said. Her rain-gutter eyebrows and narrow eyes filled in the gaps that her rasping voice missed.
"My problem? I'm in a hospital, I'm bored, and people keep checking on my to see if I'm still alive."
"Yeah? Well, whose fault is that?"
I glared at her. "Shut up."
She put her head in her hands. "You're even worse now than you were before. Do you know that? Ten times worse."
"Ten times worse than what?"
She raised her head to look at me again. Tears were running down her face now. "Ten times worse than the ascerbic, sarcastic, asshole sonofabitch I used to sleep with three years ago."
I nodded. "Right. Yeah. Make this all about you, why don't we?"
Something stung my cheek. I blinked several times, hard. My eyes were watering, and the left side of my face was burning. I put my hand up to my cheek and looked up at Lydia, who had suddenly shifted from sitting to standing. The whole thing had taken no more than a second.
"What the fuck did you do that for?"
She was nearly panting. "Because you deserve it, you selfish prick. I'm not making this about me. You're making it all about you. You weren't getting just every little thing you wanted in your life, so you decided you'd show the world a thing or two and fucking kill yourself. And never mind about anyone else who might actually give a goddamn about you. No, don't give them a thought. Just do the most dramatic thing you can think of, and grab all the attention for yourself while you slide on out the door. You bastard!"
The door opened again, and one of the nurses stepped in, frown at the ready.
"Is there a problem in here?" she asked.
Lydia looked back at her and let her shoulders slump. "No. No problem." She sat down in the chair again. "No problem."
The nurse's gaze turned towards me, her eyebrows arching nearly to the shape of question marks. I just shook my head.
"All right," the nurse said after a pause. "But I'm going to have to ask you to keep your voices down. And Mister Richmond, you need your rest. I don't want you getting excited. Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay." I nodded.
The nurse retreated, but not without giving us one more disapproving look.
"They can be so territorial," I said to Lydia.
"Jesus. Fuck. There you go again." She put her head back and shook it back and forth.
"What?"
"The sarcasm. The meanness. You're a curmudgeon."
"A curmudgeon?"
She shook her head again. "No. Not a curmudgeon. That's not nearly strong enough a word. It's almost cute. There's gotta be a word that's worse than that."
"I'm sure there is. You've already dusted off 'asshole' and 'bastard'. Doesn't that about cover it?"
"No. Not nearly. Not by half. You're worse than any of those words. I'm going to need a thesaurus when I get home. Because I can't properly describe you right now."
I stared at her for a moment. "Am I really that bad?"
She snorted. "Worse."
I sucked on my bottom lip for a moment and breathed heavily through my nose. She crossed her arms and stared accusingly at me. We stayed like that for several minutes. Or at least, that's what it felt like.
Finally, I slumped back down and stared at the ceiling again.
"You guys still practicing?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Change the subject much?"
I turned my head to look at her. "No. I really want to know."
She sighed. "How are we supposed to practice without our guitarist?"
I waved the comment away. "You don't need me to have a rehearsal. There's a ton of guys you could get to fill in."
"Jesus, Jack. You wrote half the songs. How is anyone else supposed to know them?"
"There's this little concept called sheet music. A lot of musicians can read it."
"You know what I'm talking about."
"Yes, I know what you're talking about. But those songs are crap, and you know it."
"Oh, Christ. Here we go. If you're not coming off all superior, you're putting down your own natural-born talents. What is it with you?"
"I am an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, rolled in peanut butter and icing sugar."
"Can you be serious even for a minute?"
I thought about that for a second. "No. I don't think so."
She crossed her arms and legs and turned half away from me. "I don't know why I put with you."
"You put up with me because I'm entertaining and I know how to give you a screaming orgasm."
"You shut the fuck up." She looked back at the door to make sure no one else was there. "That's way over, Jack. You know damn well that's waaaaay over. Long gone. You understand me?"
"Well, I don't know why else you'd hang around. It's certainly not my sparkling personality."
She stood up. "I'm going home. I don't have to sit here and take this."
I leveled my gaze at her. "No. You're right. You don't."
She took a step closer to the bed and leaned down towards me. "Grow up, Jack. Just fucking grow up."
She straightened, regarded me for a moment, then turned on her heel and stormed out the door.
——————–
The Short Stay unit the doctor had told me about was full, so they kept me overnight in one of the Emergency Room beds. They were narrower than a standard bed, which made turning on my side a bit of a challenge, but I managed to sleep fairly well. The fact that I had filled my body with Gravol and sleeping pills probably didn't hurt either. The room was cold, but I had always found coolness conducive to slumber, and there was a fairly decent blanket covering me, so I didn't freeze.
When I awoke, one of the nurses came in to check on me.
"Let's see if you're any steadier on your feet today," she said as she took down the bed's left-hand rail and helped me to a sitting position.
My excursions out the bed the previous day had been short, comical, and for the express purpose of reaching the toilet, which was hidden in a wooden cabinet and folded out when needed. My legs had been shaky at best, wobbly for the most part, and at times completely unable to support my weight. I'd had no idea what over-the-counter drugs were capable of doing to the human body. A gap in my education was gradually being filled in, though admittedly I could have found a less life-threatening way of gaining those lessons.
This time, things were a bit better. I still wasn't the most sure-footed creature on God's green Earth, but I managed to make my way to the hidden toilet with a minimum of assistance. Once the toilet was unfolded and read for me, the nurse stepped out of the room to allow me to do my business. Dealing with a johnny shirt, whose slit is at the back, and pulling down a pair of undershorts while trying to sit on a very low toilet while tottering on wobbly legs is an exercise I did not particularly enjoy, and it is one I am not eager to repeat. The sound my buttocks made as they veritably slammed into the cold plastic of the toilet seat was not unlike the sound effect many motion pictures use when one person punches another in the face. I would have laughed if I hadn't nearly toppled off the toilet with my bad aim.
Finally, dignity more or less intact, I raised myself from the throne of absolute power, hiked my shorts back up to where they belonged, allowed the curtains to close over my backside, and began the long and arduous journey back to the narrow bed.
With the impeccable timing only a highly trained medical professional could possibly possess, the nurse reentered the room a mere moment after I had flushed the magic toilet.
"Are you up for a little walk?" she asked me.
It was a good thing I hadn't reached the bed, because I did not relish the notion of hoisting myself out of it again.
"That's not really a question, is it?" I asked. "Or if it is, I imagine it's of the rhetorical variety."
"Well, Mister Richmond, it appears as if your wit has survived intact. Let's work on the manners now, shall we?"
It occurred to me to wonder if there was anyone in this godforsaken place who didn't have at least a brown belt in verbal sparring. I began to give up hope that I'd meet any staff that I could reduce to tears with my rough and unpleasant demeanor. These people were no fun at all.
She took me by the elbow and led me out of the room.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Down to the psychiatric section of Emergency. You'll have a short interview with the team there before being admitted to Short Stay."
"You mean I won't get to harass you any more?"
"No, Mister Richmond. We're just going to have to get used to life without you."
It was at that moment that I noticed the woman in the long, anachronistic coat again. She was standing beside one of the nurse's stations, staring intently at me. She looked no happier than when I had seen her the day before.
I raised my free hand and pointed in her direction. "That's her… the woman who was in my room yesterday."
The nurse paused. "Where?"
I looked at her. "Right there."
She looked in the direction I was pointing, then back at me, a questioning expression on her face. "I don't see anyone, Mister Richmond."
"What do you mean? She's right—" I looked back at the spot.
The woman was nowhere to be seen.
