“How are you feeling today, honey?” I bend to match her level. I pat her knee, encouraging her to open up to me.
Finally, she breathes. “I don’t feel well. I feel like I’m getting sick. I feel like I haven’t had fresh air in weeks—the asbestos in this ancient old building is killing me. It’s probably killing my baby too.”
“Shae, there’s no asbestos.”
“How do you know?” she spits out, and for the first time, I see her temper flare. “And don’t call me that name. My name is Mia.”
“Okay. Mia. I’m sorry about that. You said you’re feeling sick. Would you like to go for a walk?”
Shae’s eyes dart to the window. “They won’t let me.”
“Sure they will. I can ask.”
Shae nods, closes her book, and then moves to stand at the window.
“How about you put your shoes on, and I’ll go let them know we’re going to take a little walk?”
Shae nods as I leave the room. I move down the hallway and pass a few more patient rooms before entering the main activity hall. The nurses station sits in the corner, and it’s empty.
“Where is everyone?” I search for a nurse through the small groups of patients watching television and playing board games at tables.
“You need anything, dear? How’s Shae? I told you she’s off today, right?” Shae’s nurse is passing through with a stack of patient files in hand.
“I think she’s okay. Would it be okay if we went on a little walk? I think she just needs some fresh air.”
The nurse glances around the room. “We’re so short-staffed…she should really have approval from the on-call physician?—”
“But I’m listed as primary medical personnel on her chart. Listen, I don’t want to make your job worse today of all days, but she hasn’t been outside in weeks. We’ll be quick, I promise.”
“Well, security is so tied up with what’s going on outside, y’all could sneak out of the building and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”
“Well, we won’t do that,” I reassure her.
She nods, before a patient yells from down a long hallway, and she gives me a long-suffering look. “Enjoy your walk. I wish I were going with you.”
I mouth a soft thank-you to her and then wave before heading back to Shae’s room.
“Good news! We’ve been cleared for an adventure,” I announce when I return.
What I find when I walk back into the room makes my heart sink. She’s slumped in the chair, both shoes are on, but neither is tied. It looks as if she’s just…forgotten what she was doing. I think now is probably not the time for me to tell Shae I will no longer be acting as her therapist. But then, there’s never been a good time. Shae’s life has been littered with drama and rock-bottom moments since I’ve known her. And while time heals most things, in Shae’s case, it only dissolved what little sanity she had left. One of the court-appointed psychologists suggested schizophrenia as a logical explanation for Shae’s splitting, but I think there’s more to it. I just can’t put my finger on what exactly.
Working quickly, I bend and tie her shoes and then swipe a cardigan that’s thrown over the back of her chair.
“Ready, Shae? Let’s go get some fresh air.”
She doesn’t respond. I wince when I realized I’ve used her old name again. I think about correcting myself or apologizing,but I think better of it because at the end of the day, it’s important that Shae live in reality. I think the nurses here are doing a disservice calling her Mia, but then, I don’t have to be her caregiver every day.
And for the first time ever, it occurs to me that Shae may never return. I’ve never allowed my mind to consider that possibility before. Giving up hope that I’ll ever see my friend again has never been an option, but maybe I’ve been living in my own delusional reality. Maybe the reality is that Mia is here to stay and Shae will only ever be a memory.
I hook my elbow in Shae’s as we walk down the corridor. Every step we take brings us closer to the heavy steel doors and the small sliver of daylight that cuts through the double-paned security window. One step closer to fresh air and freedom.
“It’s beautiful outside today—not too hot, not too cold,” I offer as I swipe my keycard against the lockbox, and the door buzzes open. The nurse’s check-in station is empty, and I realize how understaffed the hospital really must be today.
As soon as we’re outside, Shae sucks in a breath of air. She smiles as the sunshine lights up her cheeks, and she pats her belly like she’s sharing the sun’s warmth with her unborn baby. Shae has put on quite a lot of weight through her trial and hospitalization; the stress coupled with the medications she’s been on have left a lasting mark. She looks as happy as I’ve seen her since she arrived here, though, even if she does believe she’s pregnant with her ex-husband’s baby. Shae has been operating under this delusion for too long. If the state thinks that hospitals like this one are rehabilitating patients, they couldn’t be more wrong. My time here with Shae has been proof enough of that.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, Shae?” I go out of my way to use her real name again. She doesn’t respond but continues to walk slowly beside me. I guide her away from the groups of protestorsand walk in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “The grounds are so pretty, lots of flowers are in bloom right now.”
“There’s a vegetable garden in the back corner that they let some patients work on. I’ve asked them if I can work on it, but I haven’t been approved yet.”
