Straightjacket (4 page)

Maybe he wants to murder me.

Or maybe he actually likes me.

Chapter Three

Caleb couldn’t stop staring at her. He hadn’t expected to feel so drawn to her this time. While the group listened to the details of Ethan’s paranoia, Caleb studied Anna’s features as she stared at the floor. He liked her face. Even though it was worn and tired, it was still pretty. Her auburn hair—smooth, long, and straight—seemed like it would be soft to touch. The white V-neck T-shirt, gray hoodie that she had zipped up halfway, and dark denim jeans almost made her disappear into the background. Her arms were folded across her chest, with her feet planted on the ground, facing inward toward each other. She was thin and not too tall, but the way she had positioned her body made her look even smaller than she actually was. Her goal was to go unnoticed, but that was impossible. Something about her glowed.

Dr. Blackwell announced that the session was over, and they could all head to the dining room for dinner. The clock read exactly five thirty. Every evening they all ate at five thirty. Many of them weren’t even hungry. It didn’t matter. It was what they did every day and what they were told to do, so they obeyed.

All six of them shuffled out of the room. Dr. Blackwell remained seated, his legs crossed and a smile aimed at them as they left. Caleb turned away, assuming the same empty expression he habitually wore.

The tables in the dining hall were gradually filling up with people. Each one was draped with a crisp white tablecloth. Every place was set with a folded cloth napkin, the daily menu, a water glass, and a metal fork and spoon. They’d made it look as close to a restaurant as they could. The only crack in the illusion was the absence of the knives.

Anna had sat down at a table by herself, across the room from Chrissy and her two friends. Gertrude and then Ethan joined her. She didn’t say anything when they sat down but offered a halfhearted smile at them both. Caleb rushed to take the one empty seat that was left, sliding his notebook and box of pastels underneath the chair. Her startled eyes met his as he sat down, but she darted her gaze away quickly. She watched herself twist a plain silver ring around and around her finger.

Once everyone was sitting, one of the attendants came over. “And what will we be having this evening?” he said in a mocking tone, focusing on anything except the four sitting at the table. Caleb scanned the five choices on his menu. The grilled rib-eye steak in mushroom sauce with caramelized onions and roasted thyme potatoes was the only thing that sounded semi-appetizing. He couldn’t help the scornful smile that appeared on his face; no matter how hard they tried to dress up the food with fancy words, it was still disgusting.

He and Gertrude ordered the steak. He ignored Ethan but caught Anna muttering the words, “Thai chicken.” The attendant scribbled down the orders on a spiral notepad and turned toward the kitchen without a word.

The four sat in silence, going through the appropriate motions that had long ago been ingrained in them—placing the napkins on their laps, straightening their silverware, taking small sips from their water glasses. Caleb tried not to stare, but his attention kept returning to Anna. It was like being in a field and forcing yourself to look away from the one flower that was surrounded by a million dull weeds trying to choke it.

“Why are you always staring at me?” she said suddenly. “What’s your problem?”

Caleb didn’t mind that she was hostile. He just liked that she was talking to him.

“Why are you always staring at
me
?” He grinned. “Don’t think I don’t notice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she began twisting her ring around and around again. Gertrude ignored the two as she rooted through her purse, but Ethan was interested. He shot a glance over at Caleb, then Anna, then back to Caleb again, waiting to hear how it would all play out.

“Do I bother you?” he asked.

“Yeah, you do when you stare at me. Please stop.”

“It
is
creepy,” Ethan piped up.

“Thanks,” Caleb practically growled. “I’ll remember that the next time you’re telling us the guy from
Saw
is after you.”

“Screw you.” Ethan took to eavesdropping on another table.

Caleb, trying to soothe his own temper, picked up again with Anna. “So, did you like your first group?” Even though he tried to keep his voice even, he couldn’t completely hide his irritation with Ethan, which insisted on lingering.

“No.” She took a sip of water.

“It’s not my favorite part of the week either.”

She didn’t answer. He wanted to keep her talking. “Do you believe me?” he blurted out.

“Yeah,” she answered, annoyed. “I don’t know why anyone would like talking about themselves in front of a group of strangers.”

“No, I mean, do you believe what I said before, about being an angel?” Her face changed as soon as he said it. First she squinted at him, as if to ask,
Are you kidding me?
Then she shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

Caleb tried not to smile, but he couldn’t help but be a little amused.

“Well, it’s true.”

“Whatever.”

He could tell she was holding back. Surely she wanted to say more.

After a few seconds, she did. “If it’s true, why tell everyone so that you end up here?” She took a sweeping glance across the room as if to strengthen her argument.

“Because I have nothing to hide.”

Just then, the attendant came back, balancing a large tray full of food on his shoulder. He set it down and placed each plate on the table, serving the women first. He handed only Gertrude and Caleb each a dull knife. Instead of retreating into the kitchen, he backed up a few feet and stood with his arms folded, his eagle eyes fixed on the two steak eaters and their knives. Caleb knew right away he was going to be watched until it was time to clear the plates, and he gave the man a nasty glare tinged with angry embarrassment.

The food in front of him took away his appetite. The promised steak was sitting in a pool of oily liquid, the top of it obscured by a mound of limp, stringy onions and chunks of mushy gray, which he took for the mushrooms. The small round potatoes were greasy and wrinkled, like someone had stuck a straw in them and sucked out all the moisture. He took a sip of his water, which was already at room temperature and emitting a faint odor.
All those fancy words on the menu, and this is what they bring. False advertising
. He decided he better try to eat something and moved everything around on his plate with his fork, unable to commit to anything.

Gertrude was sawing away at the meat with her blunt knife. Her progress was slow. Ethan stuffed his mouth full of salmon and only stopped briefly to chug part of his Coke. He noticed Caleb watching him.

“If you play the game, you reap the rewards,” Ethan said smugly and toasted himself with the can.

Anna was staring down at her plate with disgust, trying not to be sick.

“Disgusting,” Caleb said as much to himself as to her.

“Gross,” she said in response. She stabbed some noodles with her fork and wound them around the tines aimlessly.

He smiled, happy that she had answered him. He heard a slurping sound and turned in its direction. Ethan was shoving soggy green beans into his mouth as fast as he could.

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Ethan said with a full mouth, having noticed the look of disgust on Caleb’s face. “I only ever ate canned vegetables at home. I can’t stand them fresh, you know, before all the vitamins are boiled out.”

Gertrude let a frustrated sigh loose on her steak.

“Would you like some help with that?” Caleb asked, wanting to help her but secretly hoping to impress Anna.

“Yes, thank you.” She pushed the plate in Caleb’s direction and handed him her fork and knife. The attendant bolted toward them.

“What are you doing over there?”

“I’m helping Gertrude cut her steak, unless you want to do it?” Caleb said, inflamed by a sudden anger that he had thought he’d gotten under control. He started to hand Gertrude’s utensils over to him.

“No, go ahead,” the attendant muttered, and stepped back into his station.

“That’s what I thought,” Caleb said under his breath as he started to cut the meat into bite-size pieces.

“Such a nice young man,” Gertrude whispered to Anna.

Anna smiled reluctantly, quickly returning to her plate to stab at her chicken some more.

Finished with his cutting, Caleb tried to eat again. Nobody spoke for several minutes. Someone at a nearby table was complaining about how Carlene had confiscated some cookies her mother had brought her.

Caleb glanced over at the clock. It was exactly six o’clock. Dinner was over. The attendant took the knives away first and then swept each of the plates away. Caleb watched Anna’s as the attendant dragged it away.

“Aren’t you going to eat anything?” Caleb asked her, ready to snatch her plate away from the attendant so she could finish, consequences be damned.

“No,” she said, and shoved the chair out from under her as quickly as she could.

With his sketchpad in one hand and a box of dull-tipped pastels in the other, he followed her out. He found her in the common room, having settled herself into an overstuffed chair. She was busy reading and either didn’t notice or didn’t care that he took a seat in a nearby wooden chair.

Caleb got up to speed in minutes. His right hand would grab one color, drag it across the sheet of paper quickly, and then release it and pick up another. The pastels were flying. He zoned out the commotion around him—the droning voice of the news anchor on the television, the soft flip of the page as Anna turned it every minute or so, an old woman’s voice singing a hymn, the quiet moaning of a man across the room. None of it could anesthetize his mad tempo.

“What are you drawing?” a voice asked meekly.

He looked up at Anna’s unsure face, not believing that she would actually initiate any contact with him.

“Different things.” And, when she didn’t offer anything else, “I used to draw portraits, but now I’m doing some other stuff.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you wanna see?”

With a hesitant look, she pulled each sleeve of her sweatshirt down over her hands. Her fingers curled around them, making two soft fists. “Okay, I guess.”

He handed her his sketchpad and she held it up. Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted, letting her mouth fall open slightly. Did she like it? Or was she just confused?

“What do you think?”

“Umm, yeah, it’s…really good.”

“Thanks.” He went to take the sketchpad back, but she pulled it closer. She was studying it carefully. Her eyes darted randomly from spot to spot. He squinted back down at it himself, soaking in the bright color that filled the page. His own eyes traced the lines of the fountain and the water spurting up from it that was neither clear nor blue but made up of many shades. Her finger followed one of the streams that shot out of the fountain and came to a rest in the basin, which held a tranquil pool of color.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It’s where I’m from.”

“Where?”

“Heaven.”

The sketchpad fell from between her fingers and landed in her lap. In a flurry of movement she rushed to pick it up again and hand it back. Her fingers brushed against his by accident as he reached out to meet her hands. Although she pulled away quickly, he recorded the sensation in his mind; it felt electric.

“Umm…uh, thanks for sharing.” She found the page she had dog-eared and started reading again.

It would be best to leave her alone for now. He didn’t want to push her away. If he was ever going to do what he was sent to do, he couldn’t alienate her.

“What are you doing here?” she burst out, almost making
him
drop the sketchpad. “Why are you wasting this?”

“What do you mean?” He wrinkled his forehead, trying to understand.

“You’re so good.” She motioned toward the drawing. “You could do anything. Why are you wasting your time here, telling everyone crazy things you make up?”

“It’s not exactly my choice to be in this—place.” His voice was dry again.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just keep your delusions to yourself.” Her voice grew louder. “Then you wouldn’t have to be here.”

“I’m
not delusional.
And I’m not going to lie to myself or anyone else.”

“You seriously think you’re an angel?”

“I am.” He wouldn’t betray any emotion.

“Oh yeah? Well, where are your wings?”

“I don’t have any.”

“Then how can you call yourself an angel if you don’t have wings?”

“Not all angels have wings.”

“That’s just stupid.” She was getting all worked up, and he liked it. His flippant attitude seemed to make her angrier by the second.

“So then what makes you an angel?”

“The fact that I am.” He could tell her annoyance was maxed out.

“Why can’t you give me a straight answer?”

“That’s
all
I’m giving you.”

“Forget it.” She grabbed her book violently and began reading again.

“So why are
you
here?” he asked.

“Because I am.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Do you want to expand on that?”

She glared at him hard. “We’re not talking about me.” She slammed her book closed, got up, and almost ran out of the common area.

“Good to know,” he said to himself. He’d made her angry, but that was a good thing. If she didn’t care about what he was saying, she would have just ignored him. He picked up the blue pastel and continued to work on heaven.

Chapter Four

Anna was confused when she woke up. For a fraction of a second, she had forgotten where she was. The poster hanging on the wall across from her bed wasn’t there. It took her a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t the poster that had disappeared from her room. It was her.

As the reality of where she was sunk back in, she squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that when she opened them, she would miraculously be back home. Home was where the morning light wove softly through the blinds and onto the poster of a girl in a white ruffled dress with flowers strewn across her chest. In this room, the steel mesh stopped the light, allowing only a small fraction to push its way through the filter. But even though she hated it here, did she really want to go back home?