The Rasner Effect (13 page)

“You still don’t remember who she was?”

“No.” Rick clenched his fists in frustration. “She was older, an adult. I can’t see her now, just like before, but I know her.”

“It could have been your mother.”

“I’m not entirely sure who it was, I don’t sense her to be my mother, though. In fact, I’m almost sure it wasn’t.”

“Then who might it have been?”

“I believe she was a peer, a close friend, but I kept sensing her at different ages. Sometimes she was an adult, sometimes she wasn’t. I don’t understand it, Doctor.”

“Let’s talk about your emotions at that point. You said you were running from some boys in the schoolyard. How did you feel at that moment?”

“Helpless. I hate confrontation. I guess I did back when I was a child as well.”

“And that’s why you ran, perhaps?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t feel comfortable talking about it right now.”

Obenchain nodded and placed his clipboard on the coffee table next to his easy chair. “Very well, let’s talk about recent memories instead. You mentioned having another headache?”

“Yes.”

“This is the first time you experienced these headaches since we last spoke of them?”

“I would have told you otherwise.”

“Do you know what might have triggered it?”

“I have a suspicion.” Rick swiped the hair on his forehead off to the side.

“Tell me about it?”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“I don’t see why not. You know this is a safe haven for your thoughts and feelings.”

“It’s just…” Rick was ready to open up, but then shook his head. “No, I’ll be able to handle it.”

“Is it the job? Problems at the facility?”

“I wouldn’t say problems. It’s just…I just find the place confusing.” Rick fell back on the couch. “Particularly at the top. That director…” Rick shook his head and let out a deep breath.

“Katherine Miller. You wish to elaborate?”

“Off the record?”

“Everything is confidential,” Obenchain assured him. “All off the record.”

“Well, it’s been a few weeks, and I’m sure I don’t know how to relate to her. She’s quite rough.”

“I’m sure she is. That’s a rough population you work with in that facility, yet she manages to keep order.”

“Yes, but she seems so harsh, almost spiteful. I realize I’m new and don’t have a handle on the entire situation, but I question her methods and philosophies in handling those kids.”

“In what way?”

“She terrorizes them. She’s basically a bully.”

“Katherine Miller has been working in that Residence for over twenty-five years. She’s been the head director for almost twelve. For a long time, she fought tooth and nail to become the director of that place. She’s ‘earned her stripes’ so to speak.”

“I do not doubt her credentials, it’s just…” Rick tried to put words to his emotions. “We’re working with troubled kids. They need direction, not oppression.”

“You don’t feel they receive that direction within those walls?”

“Miss Miller just doesn’t strike me as the type who really likes kids, or people of any kind, for that matter.”

“I sense heavy hostilities, which is very unlike you.” Obenchain chuckled. “What makes you feel that way about her?”

Rick stood up and paced toward the opposite end of the office where, from a nail hammered into the wood paneling, Doctor Obenchain’s psychiatry degree hung. How many years of schooling did his mentor have to endure to get that piece of paper, which now hung on his wall? And was it worth it?

“To give you an example, Miss Miller held a meeting with the staff earlier this week. She told us her biggest fear was the children would someday realize they outnumber us by more than three to one. If they did, they could take over the facility right out from under us.”

Obenchain sat back in his chair, keeping his eyes on Rick.

“She says a patient is a patient is a patient, and we should not be fooled by tears or our own sympathies. She says that for most of them, it’s only their medication which keeps them from acting out their violent impulses.”

“You seem bothered by these statements.”

“It’s a prison mentality! This is supposed to be a sanitarium for working with troubled kids, not to mention serving as a school. We’re supposed to be building them up, not tearing them down like convicts.”

“Many of these children have been convicted of crimes. Some would even be in prison if not for their ages. But I understand where your perspective comes from on this.”

Rick lifted his eyebrows. He turned his head to give the doctor a curious glance.

“You want to do right by those who have become your clients.”

“Yes. You’ve always taught me to do right by the client, Doctor Obenchain, and I follow that. These children need to be taught the proper social behaviors so they can function in the real world and not have to live their lives in places like Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric Residence.”

“Isn’t that why they are there?” Noticeable cynicism had entered his voice. “I would assume everyone within the facility meets the best interests of these children…”

“How is keeping secrets about their personal lives from them in their best interests? We have important information in their files. Parents are getting divorced, family members are moving away or becoming incarcerated or worse. Miller leaves notes saying not to tell them under penalty of termination.”

“I see,” Obenchain answered.

Rick had been hoping for more. “I have one girl there who desperately wants to speak to her grandmother.” He sat up now, leaning back against the cushion and resting his chin on the knuckles of his rolled up fist. “This girl blames the people who run the residence for not letting her make phone calls, but the real reason they don’t is…”

“Now hold on. You have an oath of confidentiality to your clients, which extends to their personal lives. No details.”

Rick nodded and kept his chin low. “I’m sorry, it’s just—she should hear the truth as opposed to just being told she hasn’t earned phone privileges.”

An irate tone had entered Rick’s voice, but he was powerless to stop it. His head shot up. Obenchain looked at him in surprise. The intensity quickly subsided as Rick rubbed his forehead. “The truth is important,” Rick insisted, getting up to pace again.

Obenchain folded his hands, twirling his thumbs in his lap. “That should be the case, but sometimes secrecy is necessary, especially when dealing with one’s mental and psychiatric rehabilitation.”

“I guess.” Rick still wasn’t convinced. “It just doesn’t feel like a caring facility. I feel like…” Rick stopped himself.

“Please, say what you’re thinking.”

“Well, I feel like I’m a good person stuck working in a bad place and dealing with bad people.”

Obenchain suddenly stepped in Rick’s way. He laid a hand on his shoulder to stop Rick’s pacing. “Rick, I feel I’ve erred in judgment. Perhaps, as a relatively new mental health worker, this is not the right position for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“It is a stressful place you’re in, and I’m concerned the pressures of the facility are affecting your own healing process.”

“You want me to quit?” Rick asked, a bit stunned by the doctor’s assessment. “I know I’m not off to the start I hoped I would be, but to just abandon the job…”

“The children mandated to the Brookhill Children’s Psychiatric Residence are reputed for being some of the most difficult children in their own communities. Being honest with you, Rick, the residence has, for as long as I can remember, been referred to as a ‘dumping ground.’ That’s both for the patients and the workers there. It’s one of the reasons some of us contribute to the facility, to support Katherine Miller’s desire to change its reputation. We hoped this would lead to her being able to bring in a better clientele of staff.

“Understand, it is a great place to gain experience, but the good people, once they’ve earned that experience, look to move on rather than work with the kids in the facility. The good ones rarely stay.”

“Or the weak ones?”

“Please don’t see it that way, my friend. You’re not only new to the job, but if you think about it, you’re relatively new to your own life.”

Rick remained silent, lost in thought. “But…what does all this say about the people who do remain there?” He finally asked, already knowing the answer to his own question. “What kind of so-called professionals are they?”

“Everyone has a story, even you, right?”

“I guess so, although I’m sure everyone else can at least remember theirs.”

“We’re working on that, and it is coming. We’re making excellent progress. Be patient, we will put all the pieces together.”

“I guess. It’s just so frustrating.”

“I can understand that, but for now, will you consider what we have discussed regarding your future?”

“I’ll need to think about it. But I think I want to see this through a little longer. I don’t believe I’m ready to just walk out.”

“Well, do think about it.” Obenchain stood up, the signal their session was almost at an end. “In the meanwhile, you’ve inspired my curiosity. I would like to make a stop at the facility and see things for myself.”

“You can do that?” Rick asked, as Obenchain led him toward the door. “Miss Miller doesn’t care for outsiders patrolling her hallways.”

“I’m hardly an outsider. I am on the facility’s Board of Directors. I donate quite a sum of money per year to the program. That means I can walk in there anytime I want. It’s been a long time, but I should see what my money goes to, don’t you think?”

“It would be nice to see a familiar face.” Rick still wondered how the head director would take to Obenchain’s sudden appearance. He did, however, figure it would be nice to see her squirm, if only as a momentary situation.

“Meanwhile, if you get any more headaches, I want to know about them immediately.”

“Of course.”

“I also want to see you this weekend. We’ll take a trip to my offices in the city where we can take a quick x-ray, as a precautionary measure.” Obenchain tapped Rick on the side of the head with his pencil. “We’ll make sure everything’s fine up there.”

Obenchain pulled open the door. “Anything else?”

Rick wanted to fully discuss Clara Blue. He wanted to benefit from his mentor’s experience, ask him how to advise her so she could make her life at the institution a little easier. Even more of a priority, Rick wanted to tell Obenchain how familiar her mannerisms seemed to him. How the anger and rage in her eyes triggered a feeling of déjà vu, a memory of his past locked inside his head that he couldn’t seem to bring forward. He wanted to go over it all, but he also realized the Doctor, who had given him plenty of time over the last seven years, was looking to wrap up their session. The issue could wait.

“Everything is fine. Thanks, Doc. I’ll speak to you soon.” Rick shook the older man’s hand. “I appreciate everything.”

“I know that.” Obenchain patted him on the back. “Have a good weekend and try not to think about your job. Remember the adage about all work and no play.”

“I think I’m well beyond dull at this point,” Rick answered.

Chapter Fifteen

It was five minutes before five in the afternoon. Looks of boredom filled the faces of the six students in Mr. Royal’s class. Royal walked around the class with papers in his hands, passing each student’s desk. He did not look pleased. “I have your Science tests graded. Not a single one of you should be proud of yourselves. I know I’m not!”

Clara looked up from her desk by the gated window. She rolled her eyes as he passed, and then dropped her head back on the desk. While the other kids recoiled in the presence of their imposing educator, she was older and knew his nasty routine by heart. And was sick of it. The only other girl in the class sat across the room. Royal peered down at her. “Did you study like I told you to, Rebecca?”

Rebecca was a twelve-year-old who appeared much younger than her age, both physically and behaviorally. Her reddish-blonde hair was cut short; her eyes were unusually wide. She stood out as one of the few Caucasian children in the facility. Rebecca had been placed in the Brookhill Children’s Residence due to her obsession with fire, an obsession that led to her being responsible for an inferno that burned her elementary school to the ground. She had many facial tics and she rarely spoke, especially in class where fear of her teacher was apparent. In answer to his question, Rebecca could only stare up with her mouth hanging open and her head shaking ever so slightly.

“Well, congratulations, you almost passed.” Royal slipped Rebecca’s test paper from the pile in his hands and heaved it on her desk. “The shame of it is her failing grade was the highest in this class.”

Royal motioned for the class aide, a young Haitian lady, to move to the front of the room. He handed her the remaining papers to give out to the students and then stepped in front of Clara’s desk. He stared down with his arms folded until her head picked up once again.

“Your test is with Miss Miller right now. You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“You’ve given that same stupid test four times already,” Clara mumbled under her breath.

“Excuse me?” Royal leaned forward.

“Nothing.” Clara turned her attention back to the window, hoping that when she looked back, he would be gone. No such luck.

“See me after class.”

The five o’clock bell rang. Students began to stand up from their seats. They were quickly stopped by Mister Royal, who stepped in front of the door, with his arms folded across his body. “Everyone just settle down and wait until I have dismissed you. That’s the dinner bell, which means class is over for today. Homework is on the board. Maybe a few of you would like to actually do some of it tonight?”

Royal opened the door. Each student exited, the boy with the IV drip in the back led out by the aide. Clara lagged behind the rest. She noticed Mister Royal looking her way. This made her speed up, wanting to make her way out of the room as quickly as possible, before…too late.

“Clara!” Royal barked causing the girl to stop in her tracks. “Did you hear me when I told you to see me after class?”

Clara looked for a way out of the room, but Royal had pushed the door closed and now stood blocking her way. They were the only two there now. He stepped closer. Clara stepped back. If she could back far enough, she might be able to run around the desk and escape before he got to her. He was old after all. Even though she was cooped up all the time, she had to be faster than him, right?