I cannot let my mind linger on the nurse’s critical tone. I feel an urgency—especially after hearing what my earlier defiance resulted in—to play along. Just play along and watch and listen.
But maybe I can ask politely to use a phone. I’m thinking Celine must have known what kind of place Mrs. Grissom was taking me to, but I can’t imagine Truman did. If I can just find a way to telephone the vineyard when she’s not there to answer the phone. If I can tell Truman what’s been done to me, he could do something to get me out.
On the next floor, the nurse uses her key to open the door leading out of the stairwell. We enter a foyer identical to the one below it, with doors on all the opposite walls, marked Hall A, B, and C. Nurse Tipton takes her key, walks to Hall B, unlocks the door, and ushers me through.
In front of us is a nurses’ station, similar to the one downstairs but smaller. Behind the glass are a nurse and two orderlies. They are all eating off cafeteria trays. One of the men is Norman. He looks at me for a moment but then returns to his plate, as if I were no one he’s met before, certainly not someone whom he had to wrap his arms around to restrain. On the desk is a shiny black telephone.
“I’ve brought Rosie Maras up from the second floor,” Nurse Tipton says to the people behind the glass. The nurse doesn’t glance at me but instead looks up at Nurse Tipton in disappointment.
“Do you mind taking her and showing her to her room, Vera?” She nods to her tray. “It’s chicken potpie. The only good thing they make here, and only when it’s hot. Please? I didn’t know she was coming up now.”
Nurse Tipton sighs. “All right. Which room?”
The other nurse smiles gratefully. “Room 5. Last bed on the left. Her clothes are on the bed. Norman can take her down for lunch as soon as she’s dressed. She shouldn’t dawdle or she’ll miss it.”
“Okay, okay,” Nurse Tipton says, and then she turns to me. “Come on.”
“Thank you!” the other nurse calls out as we start to walk away.
Nurse Tipton leads me down the long hallway, painted all white with doors on either side, all of which are wide open. I can see that each room holds six beds, and that most of the beds are made and empty. But there are some where a sleeping figure lies curled up under the blankets.
The nurse enters Room 5, halfway down the hallway and empty of other people. She leads me to the last bed on the left-hand side, positioned by a barred window, one of only two in the room. There is a dull blue cotton dress on the mattress andsoft-soled slip-on shoes on the floor by a nightstand. On some of the other nightstands are framed photographs or books or small stuffed animals. The one by this bed is empty.
“You’re lucky to have a bed by the window.” Nurse Tipton nods toward the glass panes and the cross work of bars. From the window I can see below a vegetable garden, a pen full of goats, and a sizable chicken coop, all within the confines of the fence surrounding the property. Inside those enclosures are women in the same kind of somber dress that lies folded on my bed, some hoeing in the garden, some tending the goats, and some raking up chicken feces in the coop.
Nurse Tipton notices me looking down at them.
“The residents all have little jobs to keep them busy,” she says. “Most choose the area they want to work in. It’s better if you choose. If you don’t, one will be chosen for you. We have another vegetable garden as well as a dairy barn and a small orchard on the men’s side. The male residents take care of those. Not everyone has to find a duty outdoors, though. Some residents work in the kitchen or the laundry room or hair salon or managing the library. If you want a little free advice, you should quickly choose what you want to do and then do your best at it. It’s one of the ways we gauge whether or not you are ready to be discharged. If you have learned a skill and can make a living for yourself outside and not be a burden on society, we know you’re ready. And if you can’t, it is one of the reasons a person remains a resident here.”
Nurse Tipton waits a moment to let that sink in. “All right, then. You heard what Nurse Andrews said. If you want lunch, you should get changed. The women and men have separate eating times, and you don’t want to miss yours.”
I turn from the window. “The women that we passed still lying in their beds, why didn’t they go down for lunch?”
“That is not behavior any of them should continue if they want to be released. Any able-bodied resident who persists inremaining in their bed more than a day or two will be removed to Ward 2, where they will be sure to receive nourishment. But returning to Ward 2 is like starting over. You are in one of the halls in Ward 3 that has the most opportunities for you to make independent choices. Again, I would suggest you do everything you can to remain here on the third floor and in this ward. Time to get dressed.”
I pick the dress up off the bed and let it unfold. It’s several sizes too large for me. A brassiere, not the one I was wearing the day I arrived, falls onto the bed from within the folds of the dress, as well as a pair of plain white socks.
“I suppose Nurse Andrews was thinking this would be the best fit for now,” Nurse Tipton says, looking askance at the overly large dress. “We do have maternity smocks for women who are farther along. I’m sure you will transition into one of those soon enough.”
Nurse Tipton makes no move to leave so that I can change in privacy. I slip off the cotton shift and put on the bra, also a bit too big, and then the dress, which surely looks like a tent on me. When I am done I slip on the soft-soled shoes, which thankfully fit.
“Can you take me down to the cafeteria instead of that orderly?” I ask when I’m finished.
Nurse Tipton cocks her head in curiosity. “Are you afraid of men?”
I can already sense it is important that I not appear to be overly fearful of anything here.
“No,” I answer quickly. “When I arrived I was... you know, not expecting to stay. That orderly had to... restrain me. I’m embarrassed.”
Nurse Tipton shoos away my concern as if it were a housefly. “I assure you Norman has dealt with far worse. And I wouldn’t be able to anyway. I need to get back to my own ward.”
“Before you go, may I please use a telephone?”
Nurse Tipton blinks at me. “You want to use a telephone?”
“Yes, there is someone I would like to call.”
“Residents don’t have telephone privileges. But you can tell Mrs. Crockett and she can call that person for you if it’s important. It would have to be pretty important.”
