“You said that you lost your job while you were here?”
“Yeah, I’ll have to find something once I get discharged. My landlord is at least understanding and suspending my rent until next month, but I don’t like being in someone's debt.”
“It’s never too late to try to pursue a different career. I love being a technician, even if the hours are horrible sometimes.” My paintbrush made quiet strokes against the canvas. The blending lines of the different shades of red weren’t nearly as neat as Kendi’s, but they were at least discernible from the silhouette in the center of the canvas.
“I might look into something like that when I leave here, I just love being around animals, they don't judge you.”
Never had I heard truer words spoken by someone. That was the beauty of animals, even the asshole ones that tried to bite you. They didn’t know any better, their instinct was pure, and when they lashed out, they didn’t do it with ill intentions. Self-preservation and fear were what drove them when they did that, not hatred like what humans had in their hearts when they gave into their sick desires.
“You know the vet clinic I work at was hiring for a kennel attendant when I was committed. If they’re still hiring, you should try applying for it. Dr. Faris is really great to work for. Even if it’s just something until you find your dream job with art.” There it was, an olive branch of a budding friendship. Relationships were always the hardest for me to try to grow and maintain, having never had a proper role model for it my entire life. Kendi deserved a friend, just as I deserved to break out of my comfort zone in this place.
She smiled at me, big and genuine, “I think I’d like that.” Just like that, I felt a connection to her.
Nadia made her way up and down the rows every few minutes, giving words of encouragement to everyone as she admired their artwork. She spoke almost like a school teacher would to a small child. Negative words never left her lips as she examined every painting.
Even when she took in Brandon's work, she never let it show. By the end of class, she had collected everyone's paintings to put them away until our discharge. Any and all artwork or crafts wedid wouldn’t be given to us to take back to our rooms. Other than Kendi’s work, I didn’t get a chance to view anyone else’s, with how quickly Nadia put them away in one of the cabinets behind her desk.
After art therapy was over, everyone was allowed to briefly go back to our individual rooms to wash up for dinner. We were given a few minutes to wash our hands, then repeated the same routine we used for every meal: waiting outside our doors for a headcount, then following the nurse down to the cafeteria in a single-file line.
The strict routine made sense. With Michelle being a third-grade teacher she sometimes had students enter her classroom with a variety of different needs. She learned early in her career that most people, especially children, thrive on a stable, steady routine. The way the clinic seemed to run mimicked the same idea. Mental illness usually causes chaos in the mind, so any sort of stability theoretically would help bring some ease to the mind.
Dinner was quiet and uneventful. Thelma’s mood was steadily improving from the previous day, and I was glad to see her appetite was still doing good on her medication. The only issue had been that the group from the adolescent wing before us decided it would be funny to hide some of their utensils. Given the rules, we had to wait until staff were able to locate all of them, so we spent about thirty minutes waiting in the hallway before we were allowed to eat.
After Cindy returned us to our hallway, we were allowed free time to do whatever we wished until lights out. I had managed to shower before putting on clean clothes, ready to spend a few hours reading and trying to think of myself being anywhere that wasn’t here. I towel-dried my hair, putting it in a long braid before grabbing my book and making myself comfortable on what was quickly becoming Kendi and I’s regular couch.
Tyson opted to stay in his room rather than gather in the lounge with everyone else. A movie played on the TV, but I didn’t pay attention to what anyone was watching. Brandon sat down with Andrew at one of the smaller tables and set up a board game, Sorry, by the looks of the pieces. Thelma was the only one watching the movie, lost in her own quiet world.
My sister had packed me the books I had asked for, books I hadn’t read yet, and that had been sitting on my shelf for almost a year. They weren’t my usual genre; I typically preferred dark romance. The darker the better in my opinion. Romantasy books were just as good, though when the mood hit me. I wasn’t surprised that they hadn’t allowed me a darker book, given the content of some of them; I was just thankful to have something I enjoyed reading instead of what was provided for us in the lounge.
Curling up with my legs underneath me, I cracked open the spine on what was basically a brand new book. I placed it on the pillow I had secured on my lap and tried to focuson reading while Kendi was immersed in her own book. The synopsis had promised magic, dragons, action, and tons of adventure. Slowly, the noise from the tv started to fade from my ears as I tuned it out to focus on the words on the pages.
Hallucinating while reading tattoos on the remnants of dead trees was one of my favorite ways to spend my free time, letting my imagination take over and my mind shut down. Even with the long hours at the vet clinic on slow days, we were allowed to bring something to occupy us while we sat at the front desk waiting for clients to come in. There was nothing better than a stormy day, rain or snow, a cup of herbal tea, and a good book. A few of the other women I worked with also enjoyed reading; we had even discussed forming a book club at work at one point, only we had never gotten around to it. Maybe that was something I could bring up with them once I left here? It would serve as a good coping skill, or at the very least a decent distraction.
For almost an hour, time passed by peacefully, everyone in their own little world doing their own thing. The movie Thelma had been watching had ended, she didn’t bother picking another one; instead, she brought a chair over to join Brandon and Andrew with their board games. I set my book down, just as the main character was about to cross the parapet, and glanced over at Kendi. She had her book currently propped on her lap as well and was looking at the group like she was debating on joining in the next game.
“Boring book?” I asked.
“I’mjust not a fan of mysteries, not enough dragons.” She closed the book and set it on the table in front of us.
I handed her the book I was reading after carefully placing my bookmark that read ‘good girls read smut’ in it. A long time ago, I would have felt embarrassed over my taste in books. Thankfully, over time I learned not to care what people thought. I enjoyed what I liked, and it wasn’t anyone’s business what that was. Especially since the romance genre was the best-selling genre when it came to books. Facts like that made me feel less alone in my guilty pleasures.
“I just got this one; reviews said it’s amazing and going to be a part of a five-book series.”
Kendi glanced over the synopsis on the back before handing it to me, “I’ll have to write that title down so I can get it when I leave here,” she flipped her long dark braids over her shoulder and settled back into the couch, drawing her slim legs up to her chest. “My parents said I should have looked for a bigger apartment than what I ended up with, just so I could have my own personal library for my books.”
I laughed, setting my book down as well, “My sister said something similar when I bought my house.”
“If you were able to buy a house, why didn’t you?”
“Pure stubbornness. I bought it with some of the money I had from my parents' life insurance. It was a small, cheap house and in a good neighborhood. I honestly didn’t think I wouldneed anything bigger. Plus, it had a fenced-in yard, so I was able to get a puppy, which was the biggest selling point to me.”
“What happened to your parents? If you don’t mind me asking.”
I hesitated. It’s not that I minded talking about my parents in a generic way; lies were usually easy enough to come up with off the top of my head. I just found it difficult to answer that question without diving into what they were like growing up—the harsh reality I didn’t like sharing. After my grandmother passed away, Michelle and I had no other living relatives we could ask about them. They were both an only child, their parents are all now passed. If there were any distant cousins or aunts or uncles, they hadn’t come out of the woodwork yet. Even growing up, it was always just our grandmother showing up for us.
“Murder suicide. They have speculated that my dad suffered from some sort of mental illness, combined with alcoholism, he killed our mother and then killed himself.”
“Wow, that wasn’t what I thought you were going to say. I’m so sorry,” she said genuinely, reaching her hand out and placing it on my forearm. “I still have both my parents, so I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
