5
Chapter Five
Reese
THREE YEARS AGO
"I'll be homeat six tonight, Reese," Mom shouts into my bedroom. "Just a short shift today."
"See ya later," I yell back. A short shift for mom is nine hours. I wouldn't call her a work-a-holic, but she's a devoted nurse who loves what she does. Now that it's summer and school and soccer are over for a few months, she's picked up some more shifts. I do think she overdoes it, but she shoos me off when I tell her that. I try my best to pull my weight around here and help out. I babysit every morning and the family pays me pretty well, so it's enough to take some of the burdens off of us at least. Mom and I are more like friends than we are mother and daughter, but it's because we've been in this survival thing together since Dad died. She needs me just as much as I need her. Dad's death forced me to grow up much quicker than I probably should have, but that's life.
I head into the kitchen to make myself breakfast, finding Mom's lunch bag sitting next to the gallon of milk.Crap. I don't know what's with this hospital she works at now—most of the time it's like it’s an empty shell filled with no more than thirty patients. There's no cafeteria there or any place to grab food. And of course, it's a bit of a walk to the grocery store—too long to make it there and back during a break. We don't have a working car anymore, so we walk everywhere. Thankfully, we are only a fifteen-minute walk from the hospital.
I have to bring this down to her or she won't eat today. With her diabetes, she can't go without lunch and she wouldn't dare to test that awful boss of hers with an extended break. He'd probably fire her on the spot. This guy, Jackson Crownwell, is supposedly the wealthiest man in this county—he owns both hospitals and a bunch of local shops and office buildings here. He's sort of like the mayor I guess, but our town doesn't have a large enough population for a mayor—or that's what I've been told anyway. It doesn't make much sense to me. Any time I've asked questions, Mom usually just says it's politics and not to worry about it. So, I don't.
I pour myself a small bowl of cereal and eat it quickly so I can get down to the hospital. I debate calling her at work to let her know I'm coming, but she may get in trouble for taking a non-emergency call during her shift. It's best if I just slip in and out before anyone sees me. She'll have her lunch and I'll have some peace-of-mind.
I step outside, lifting my face up to the sun, still appreciating it after living here for seven years. Before Dad died, we lived up in Washington. It was always raining, dark and kind of gloomy. We lived there because of Dad's job at Microsoft, so we didn't have much say about our distaste for the climate. After he died, Mom took a dive into a funk. She was miserable and depressed, as was I. Dad was everything to us. He supported us and cared for us so we wouldn't ever have to worry about needing or wanting anything. He took pride in giving us a good life. Regardless of how much financial planning he did for our family, though, it was all taken from us when he was in the car accident on his way home from work one night. He was in a coma for six months and needed multiple surgeries. Mom cleaned out the bank accounts at the chance of keeping him alive, but in the end, it just wasn't enough. Anyway, we had no reason to stay living in the rainy state, so we moved down to a more affordable and sunny location in Oklahoma. With Dad's life insurance money, Mom bought us a tiny house and went back to school so she could support the two of us. It was a wise investment, but the money ran out quickly and she fell into a pile of debt, which is why everything she makes now basically goes to her credit card and loan payments. Life dumped on us. Still, Mom developed a new outlook and pushed through our troubles with a smile, constantly reminding me that life will get better. I believe her. I have to. I want her to be happy again. A real kind of happy. Not the fake kind she portrays for my sake.
I walk through the dirt lot of the hospital and up to the front doors, noticing how little the grounds have been cared for lately. I haven't been here in a few months, but it looks like they kind of let the place go a little, which is strange. Mr. Crownwell is usually on top of all this. After all, he has an image to maintain.
I walk up to the front desk, finding Miss Amy, the receptionist, where she usually is. I will say, this hospital has had basically no turnover since Mom started working here five years ago. "Reese Pieces, how is my favorite young lady?" she squeaks, running out from around the desk and wrapping her arms around my neck. Miss Amy is about sixty, old enough to be my grandmother. She's a vibrant woman, full of energy and always has a smile on her face. Her hair looks a little grayer than the last time I saw her and she's wearing a touch more makeup than usual; although her dark red lipstick is something that has always been constant with her. It makes her teeth extra white and her smile large. "Are you here to see your mama?"
"She forgot her lunch today and I didn't want her blood sugar levels to crash."
"You are such a sweet young lady. Your mama sure is lucky to you have you as a daughter." She pats me on the head and returns to the back of her desk. "Let me see if I can locate her for you." She searches through the computer for a minute and lifts up the receiver on the phone. "Paging Laura Daniels. Could you please come to the front desk," I hear Miss Amy's voice boom through the speakers in the hall.
It takes a couple of minutes but the front desk phone rings and Miss Amy quickly picks up the call. "Is that her?" I whisper.
Miss Amy nods her head with a small smile and holds up a finger. "No problem, Laura." She hangs up the phone and hands me a guest badge. "Go on up to the third floor. She's at the nurses’ station there."
I decide to take the stairs up the three flights since the elevators are notoriously known for being super slow. I don't like being here. Maybe I don't have the natural born instinct Mom has to help people get better, and it might be because of the combined scent of bleach and ammonia. The smells and the sounds here always make me feel a little ill.
I'm breathless by the time I reach the third floor, and I approach the nurses' station just as Mom is running in the opposite direction. "Reese, honey, wait right there, I'll be back in one minute. There's an emergency."
There are no other nurses at the desk, which is unusual since there are typically four or five sitting here. After a minute or two, one of the nurses comes back and sits down behind the desk. "Hi, Reese!" she says, sounding a little breathless herself. "Everything okay?"
"Hi, Sunny. Yeah, Mom forgot her lunch, so I figured I'd bring it by."
"Such a sweetie," she says. "Your mom should be back in just a minute. We have a little situation with one of our patients today."
"Oh. I hope everything is okay," I tell her, suddenly curious as to what's going on.
Her lips pull into an unsettled grimace. "Not exactly. One of our patients who has been here for the past two years became—" she leans over the counter to come closer to me, "unruly today. We were supposed to release him, but after a departing conversation with Mr. Crownwell, I guess he—well, he tried to—" she places her hand up by her mouth, and in a whisper says, "kill him." She shakes her head with disappointment. "He's just a kid too, maybe only a couple years older than you. He was very troubled and sick, though. He was accused of some very volatile actions, but as a minor, we treated him and thought he was well enough to be released into a youth probation program. That was until he attacked Mr. Crownwell today. I'm not sure what will happen to him now."
My eyebrows scrunch together, curious as to what she's going to say. "What did he do to be placed here in the first place? What volatile actions?" I prompt her to continue.
"Nothing. It's nothing for you to worry about, honey. Your Mom will be back in just a minute." Just as she finishes her sentence, I hear a struggle down the hall. I hear groaning or grunting, I'm not sure which. "Reese, why don't you come stand here behind the desk with me." I do as she says, unsure of what's happening. I don't make it completely behind the desk before I see five nurses escorting a patient down the hall. The patient is not exactly struggling against them, but he looks like he's in some type of pain.
"I didn't do anything," he yells at one of them. "Where are you bringing me?" None of the nurses respond. There are handcuffs around his wrists and he's in a hospital gown. He's looking right at me as he approaches the nurses' desk. For a minute, I feel frozen with fear because of the way he's looking at me. But as he comes closer, I see that it isn't a frightening look, it's a pleading look.
"Help me," he says to me. A striking pain runs through my chest, feeling remorse for this boy I've never seen before. It seems like whatever he's being blamed for might be wrong. I don't know the actual reason he's here or where he's going, but he looks scared. Although I realize the people in this hospital are mentally ill, I can't help wondering how ill this boy is or if he deserves whatever it is they're doing to him. He doesn't exactly look sick. He just looks hurt. His eyes are large and sky blue with a pleading look clouding over his gaze. And he won't take his eyes off of me.
"We should help him!" I tell the nurses. "Where are you taking him?"
No one answers me. Where's Mom? She'd help him. I need to find her. "Reese, you should stay here," Sunny says softly, as if she could hear my thoughts.
"What are they doing to him?" This hospital has always been a place to help those who can't help themselves, and this doesn't seem right to me. Unruly patients fight back, they cuss at the nurses and they have hatred in their eyes. This boy has none of those characteristics.
