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Elspeth looked at home here. Adriana wondered what it was that made her relax, compared to at the NS. Maybe the mental hospital reminded her too much of her daughter. Elspeth had never told Adriana anything about her except for that first confidence, and she hadn't admitted that it wasn't a friend she was speaking about, but herself.

Adriana was almost afraid to ask Elspeth anything. But when Jeff's attention was riveted by the TV, she turned to Elspeth, and in a low voice, ventured, “and Samantha?”

Elspeth shook her head. “I can't tell you anything, Adriana, you know that.” But she was smiling and Adriana knew she wouldn't be if something terrible had happened.

Adriana's body slowly relaxed, overcome by exhaustion. She leaned back in her chair and gazed up at the ceiling, wishing she was a little child and could sit on Elspeth's lap, nestle against her bosom and sleep. Elspeth stood at the window, surveying the hurricane damage. From the back, Elspeth looked substantial, her shoulders broad and solid—but Adriana noticed she stooped slightly and that there was more grey in her hair than she'd noticed before. Adriana felt a twinge of sadness. Elspeth was like a mountain peak, always strong and always there. It was frightening to think that Elspeth would fade into old age, like everyone else.

Adriana knew her hour was almost up and it was time to return to the mental hospital. She stood up, and Elspeth turned around, smiling regretfully. “You're going back?” she asked. Adriana nodded. She'd escaped twice and returned once on her own. This time she would go back to keep her promise to the doctor. And Fiona.

Elspeth sat down heavily in her chair. “Mental hospitals are going the way of the dinosaur,” she said. Adriana wasn't sure if Elspeth was speaking to her, or to herself. “There's got to be a better way of treating people,” Elspeth continued, shaking her head. “I never want my children or their children to have to come to a place like the NS,” she said.

Adriana stood with her mouth open. She'd never heard Elspeth talk about the mental hospital that way before. In fact, Elspeth had once told Adriana that she's made the right choice by admitting herself, but maybe it was because it was the only choice.

Usually Elspeth was the one who listened, her head cocked to one side. She smiled at Adriana, slightly embarrassed. “Now you've heard my rant,” she said. “I know you need to go back. Just don't stay there long,” she said. “Don't let it grow on you.”

 

As she walked up the street to the NS, Adriana thought about what Elspeth had said. She wondered if Elspeth was really afraid that she'd get used to the hospital and not want to leave. There were some people, she knew, who lived in the hospital for years, and others that returned as regular as clockwork, their lives so dreary or their illness so severe they couldn't stay away from the place.

Adriana stepped over branches on the sidewalk She realized she was between worlds—ill enough to be hospitalized and healthy enough to traverse a street turned upsidedown by a hurricane, in order to comfort a friend and to keep a promise. Who was she, besides a mental patient? A daughter, a sister, a friend. She considered herself to be loyal, discreet and by nature an extrovert, though since puberty she hadn't given any indication of that side of herself. She liked depressing music, hated crowds, and had a penchant for fading into the background. She enjoyed being alone and didn't mind the dark, could speak English and a smattering of French, liked Chinese food and road trips. She remembered fishing with her dad at the lake at dawn, how it felt to sit beside him on the rocks at the shore and breathe in the smell of the still water, and feel her forehead relax and her whole body loosen. That was who she was, under all the layers of worry and illness.

Adriana checked her watch. She had five minutes to spare, so she sat down on a bench under a maple in front of the Purdy building. Some of the branches had been stripped of leaves, but for the most part the tree was lush and intact. Adriana looked up into the crown of the tree, which reminded her of a brain on its stem, the branches and twigs like a network of neurons. It was so mysterious, this green world, inhabited by birds and caterpillars, like a secret planet unto itself.

It was time. Adriana walked into the Purdy building, as she'd agreed. It didn't feel so much like a prison now, but a temporary resting place, from which she would soon be released. It surprised her to feel whole and hopeful, as though she'd misplaced herself somewhere and had just now found herself again.

Chapter 29

Adriana Song signed her name in the book at the door to Mayflower. Usually she simply scribbled her signature to get it over with but today she lingered, staring at the plump cursive. That was her, Adriana Song, whom Elspeth said had a beautiful name.

The halls were quiet for once. She savoured the silence but realized it might not bode well, after all. Where was Marlene? Had Redgie come back? And what about Samantha? She felt herself begin to vibrate with anxiety, but she wanted to preserve her calm, so she took a deep breath in and out.

She sat down in the kitchen, where the stainless steel countertop and the tile floor gleamed. Adriana was glad to be alone here, even if she realized that it wouldn't last. It occurred to her that since her mother had died she'd always been most happy when she was alone with her thoughts. Even Jazz hadn't been able to enter the door that lead to her private mind, and that was the way Adriana wanted it to be—her memories tucked away inside the sea horse's pouch. She had too many shameful, dark and selfish thoughts that she didn't want to share with anyone.

Adriana proceeded to her room and saw the staff in the back office in a sombre meeting of some kind. Colin, the student doctor stood in the hallway looking shattered, his hands over his face. Marlene was rocking in a chair in the common room, as though it were serious business, as if she could rock herself to some distant location. The hurricane had gripped and shaken this place, and she had come loose from it, like a leaf from a tree. It was time for her to go.

Samantha's bed had been made neatly. There was no sign of her belongings or her comforting messiness. Adriana stood in the door of the room without going in, until she saw the note on her bed. She picked up the onion skin paper and unfolded it. Samantha had written something in a blue fountain pen.
Dear Adriana
, it began.
They're moving me to Laurel unit. I hope you will visit me.

Adriana sat down on the bed. It was as if Samantha had never been there. If Adriana chose to ignore this note, she could pretend she and Samantha had never crossed paths, that Samantha didn't even exist. When she left the hospital, she could leave it—all of it—behind. But she thought of Samantha's sad eyes, her big helpless hands. Samantha, who had no one. She couldn't just let go of her, even though that would be the easiest thing to do. A visit was in order.

Adriana went downstairs to the vending machines to buy ketchup chips for Samantha. On her way back up in the elevator, she found herself humming one of her mother's Slovak songs. Because her mother only sang it when she was sad, Adriana thought of it as a sad song. But within the sadness was a seed of happiness, a persistent grain of sand in the oyster of her depression.

Laurel unit was only across the hall from Mayflower, but to Adriana it felt like she had landed on a strange planet. The rooms were laid out in a mirror image to the rooms on Mayflower, and much was the same—the blaring television set, the listless people waiting in the kitchen for the next meal, the slamming of doors, and the clipped footsteps of nurses. But there was something in the air, maybe a brute reality, which was different from Mayflower. It may simply have been because Laurel was on the north side of the building and didn't see as much sunlight as the south side, but Adriana felt entombed as she made her way through Laurel, looking for Samantha's room.

Adriana located her across from the laundry room, from which could hear the muffled sound of someone's washing tumbling in the dryer. There were three other names on the door, which Adriana paid no attention to. Samantha lay stretched out on her side on her bed, her panty-hosed feet twitching. She had a melancholic look, but when she saw Adriana, she brightened. Adriana felt ashamed of herself for even considering forgetting about Samantha.

“Well, hello!” Samantha called out and struggled to sit up. Though she sounded cheerful, there was something bleak about her eyes. Adriana stood in the doorway, exposed and awkward. Samantha waved her in and reached out a hand for the ketchup chips. “My favourites!” she squealed. The bump under the bedcovers in the opposite corner of the room snored and rustled. Samantha covered her mouth with her hand and lowered her voice to a whisper. “You do know me!” Adriana resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. Everyone knew Samantha liked ketchup chips.

Everything was about the same here as in Mayflower; same chair, bed covers, locker. The same smell, not antiseptic, but as if someone had cleaned half-heartedly and tried to cover up the scent of decay. Samantha looked stranded here, whereas she had seemed quite at home on Mayflower.

“They didn't want me around Tony,” Samantha said softly. “They thought I was too attached. They don't know anything about love.” Adriana nodded warily. She didn't understand the way these decisions were made, or by whom, but she thought it very likely that Tony had had some say in it.

Samantha lay back on her bed, and breathed. “Will you read to me?” she asked, turning her massive head toward Adriana, who nodded and looked around but didn't see a book. Samantha gestured toward the bedside table. “It's in there,” she said. Adriana opened the drawer and shuffled a couple magazines aside. There was only a small hard cover notebook, which looked quite old, and a cookbook. She picked up the cookbook and stared at the cover, which was decorated with a photo of red and yellow apples. “Not that one,” Samantha said, closing her eyes.

Adriana pulled out the notebook, its yellowing pages rasping at her touch. She opened it to a handwritten page with a faded newspaper article taped opposite it. There was a photo of a young man, a teenage boy, striding through a ribbon at a finish line. The caption said, “Samuel Johns Wins the Race Walking Competition in Brighton Saturday Past.” Adriana stared at the photo. There was Samantha's nose and eyes and puffy hair. Could this be her brother?

Samantha closed her eyes and smiled. “My finest hour,” she said. Adriana stared at the book in her hands, afraid to look up.

“Adriana,” Samantha said, startling her. She glanced up into Samantha's sad eyes. “I have been a woman for more of my life than I was a man.” Samantha sat up, put her legs over the side of the bed, with her back to Adriana and began to unroll her knee highs. Adriana's face felt hot. She realized she was flushed with anger.

“I didn't tell you, because it didn't seem important. To our friendship,” Samantha continued, “which I treasure.” She looked shyly over her shoulder at Adriana. “You are my first friend in a long time.”

Adriana took a breath. She was surprised to realize that Samantha was her first friend too, in years. Besides Jazz, her father, and now maybe her sister, she didn't really have anyone else. Samantha swung her legs back onto the bed again. Adriana noticed the scars for the first time. “My father used to beat me, with a broom handle,” Samantha said, “When he caught me dressing in my mother's clothes. He was so afraid,” she laughed softly, “that I'd grow up to be a pouf. It was almost a relief to him I think that I became a woman.”

Adriana was speechless. Samantha looked at her kindly. “It's a shock to you? Some people know right away that I wasn't born a girl. It takes them a while to adjust to me. But you,” she smiled, “You were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice.” Samantha lay back in her bed, eyes closed. Adriana noted her big hands, her coarse features. How had it never occurred to her that Samantha had been a man? It seemed so obvious now. Adriana experienced a shudder of revulsion, an involuntary, visceral reaction—and then a flash of shame, like the sting of a jellyfish.

“I know it must seem strange to you,” Samantha said, “But I wish everyone could design their own bodies. That way you'd get exactly what you want.”

Adriana thought about it. If she were to design her own body what would it look like? She imagined herself with wavy auburn hair, pale skin and startling, turquoise eyes. She would still be a woman but a striking one, one that people would notice when she walked down the street. One that Peter would notice, if the truth be known. Adriana turned that idea over in her mind. She had been trying to fade into the background for such a long time. Did she really, secretly, want to be noticed?

Samantha's eyes were open, shining with tenderness, tinged with sadness. What kind of life must she have led? Adriana wondered. To be in a body that you feel doesn't belong to you. It would be a nightmare of a kind, a terrible, unending solitary confinement. Like being locked in TQ every day of your life.

Neither of them spoke, as the light shrank between them in the fading afternoon. Something made sense, finally, to Adriana. She realized that in this one life every moment counts; not a second is without meaning or import. The time she spent in anguish or boredom, meant something, was part of the path she was following. She had always thought the secret of this life was to be happy and that she was failing miserably—but the idea that her suffering had meaning gave her a sense of hope.

Samantha's eyes closed again and she looked perfectly at rest. Adriana closed her eyes too. She was nowhere, nothing, a dust mote. She pulled her knees up to her chest, shivering with cold.

Samantha began to snore, and Adriana watched her as she slept, her leonine head propped up on the pillow, her huge hand dangling. Adriana wondered if she ever regretted becoming a woman, whether she'd ever thought she'd made a mistake. It was unthinkable to Adriana that a person could be so sure that a decision was the right one as to forever alter who they were. But given the chance to design her own body, wouldn't she have done the same thing?