Thirteen West (4 page)

"You've met Ms Goodrow, whose potential is unknown at present but who, I assume, is eager to learn. Mr. Alinosky, Psychiatric Technician I, is next, transferring from days where he has been working with adolescents most creditably. Seated behind, right to left, is Ms Dominguez—"

"Mrs." The word was said quietly, with a trace of accent.

"Of course, of course, Mrs. Dominguez, Psychiatric Technician I, a woman of principle, who has been working with our chronic cases compassionately—which sounds simple, but is not. Then Mr. Kent, Registered Nurse, who is evening supervisor for the entire hospital, a man of multiple talents. Next Ms Geibel, Psychiatric Technician I, a transfer from nights with expertise in retardation. And, on the end, Ms Young, who is joining us from a private psychiatric hospital and comes highly recommended. She is a licensed vocational nurse whose status here will be Psychiatric Technician II."

There was a tap at the door and a man's head poked in. "Come in, Doctor," Dr. Fredericks ordered. "Glad you were able to join us."

Sally stared at the average looking young man who entered, feeling a certain kinship with him as he stood by the superintendent's desk. Dr. Fredericks had made it sound as though she'd deliberately gotten ill just so she could screw up everyone's schedules and she was convinced he meant to make this doctor suffer for not being here at exactly three—correction, fifteen hundred—with the rest of them.

"Dr. Jacobs will be the ward physician for Thirteen West," the superintendent said. "He is, of course, a fully qualified M.D., now receiving his psychiatric training here, and has volunteered for the position. A challenge—correct, Doctor?"

Dr. Jacobs cleared his throat. "Yes. I see it that way."

"Are there any words of wisdom for your new evening shift staff?"

"Not at present." Dr. Jacobs shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes fixed over their heads. Sally's stomach tightened in sympathy.

It wasn't so much what Dr. Fredericks said as the way he said it, seeming to put you down somehow, making you defensive. Or was she being unduly sensitive? Why would a psychiatrist who was superintendent of a state hospital behave as she was thinking he did?

"I'm certain Thirteen West will prove to be a showcase ward with such unusually capable individuals staffing it," Dr. Fredericks said. "Thank you for coming in."

End of ordeal, Sally thought, getting to her feet. She glanced at Ms Reynolds, next to her, who'd touched her hand so reassuringly. Charge nurse. As she followed her out the door she heard Dr. Fredericks say, "I'd like to talk to you, Barry, if you have a few minutes."

 
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Jacobs turn back toward the desk. Barry. She doubted that he got to call the superintendent Lionel.

"Ever work in a psych hospital?" Ms Reynolds asked when they were walking along the corridor together.

Sally shook her head.

"You're being thrown in to sink or swim then. Hey, don't look so scared—it's all right. Old Nellie's bark is worse than his bite. Or so they say."

Nellie? It took Sally a moment or two to make the connection. Lionel E. Fredericks—Nellie. She smiled.

"That's better," Ms Reynolds said. "My name's
Alma
—you can call me that except on duty. Rules. Like the damn caps. What's your first name?"

"Everyone calls me Sally. I've had all my psych theory, but I know it won't be the same working with actual people who are mentally ill. I'll try to—"

"I know you'll try, Sally. Don't worry so much about it. Thirteen West is so well staffed compared to the other wards that your tour here should be a breeze. Maybe you'll even learn something." She smiled.

Alma Reynolds was really pretty, Sally thought. Sexy, too. She wished she had a better figure in spite of what her militant feminist friends said about the undesirability of being a male sex object.
Alma
filled out her uniform in a way that would certainly make men notice her. What was wrong with that? Or with the men noticing, for that matter? Maybe if she'd looked more like
Alma
she wouldn't have…

No, don't start on the past. It's gone. Never again. "Is Dr. Fredericks always like that?" she asked, wishing she had the nerve to call him Nellie.

"No. Sometimes he's worse. But he's a good superintendent. We hear Calafia is the best run hospital in the state system.

"I didn't realize psychiatrists would ever—well, pick on anyone."

Alma
shrugged. "They're people, too, after all. Being a psychiatrist doesn't make you automatically nice."

"I've met some weird ones, believe me," a woman's voice said from Sally's right and she turned to see the LVN—what was her name? Young? She wasn't, very.

Peering over half-glasses, Ms Young moved closer. "I think it takes a weirdo to get interested in this business in the first place." She waved a hand about.

"Including present company?"
Alma
asked.

"Oh, well, I meant the doctors." The woman fingered a name pin that said she was Janet Young, LVN.

"What did Dr. Fredericks mean about you being a PT II now?" Sally asked her.

Janet gave her a huffy look. "I'm still an LVN, I can wear my pin if I want to."

"PT is a state designation,"
Alma
told Sally. "II is Ms Young's level as far as the state is concerned. PTs and LVNs have about equivalent training."

"That's what you think," Janet said.

Alma
raised her eyebrows. "The PTs can take the LVN exam for their state license."

"A lot of them fail," Janet said.

Alma
shook her head and turned to Sally. "Want to take a peek at the Admission Ward?" she asked. "I'm still working there till Monday."

"I—I'm not in uniform."

"Afraid someone'll take you for a patient?"

Sally tensed until she realized she was being teased. "What I meant was—is it all right?"

"You don't see the social workers or the office help in white."
Alma
took her hand, edging her away from Janet Young. "Don't worry so much. No one will care."

The tall and slim young man from the first row followed them through the door
Alma
unlocked. Sally couldn't remember his name.

"Hey, David,"
Alma
said. "Look where that commendation got you. I'm sorry—I know you didn't want to go back to the west wards."

"That's okay," he told her. "This new one sounds like it'll be different. We're sure getting a lot of help—four techs and an RN on PMs is more than minimum staff."

"Plus Sally,"
Alma
pointed out.

"Hi, Sally," David said. "What do you think about drawing a ward numbered thirteen for your psych affiliation?"

"It doesn't bother me."

"I think it's kind of unlucky," he said.

Alma
unlocked and relocked the last door and Sally stared all around. A hall with some closed doors, some open ones. A heavy mongoloid girl—no, Down's Syndrome, they'd changed the name—waddled out of one of the rooms and caught at
Alma
's arm.

"Hi, hi, hi. You here." Her words were slurred but intelligible.

"I'm here, Susie Q."

The girl clutched a rag doll in one hand. She wasn't really a girl but a woman.

"How old is she?" Sally asked in a whisper.

"Susie Q is thirty-six, aren't you, honey?"
Alma
said in normal tones.

Susie Q stared at
Alma
, mouth open.

"Is she—she isn't mentally ill, is she?" Sally asked.

"No. We admit retarded here as well."
Alma
linked her arm in Susie Q's. "Come on, honey, walk down to the day room with me and watch TV a while."

A man darted from a room and took a stance in front of David, crying, "I want my jacket. You got no right to keep it. It's mine, gimme my jacket."

Alma
sighed and let go of Susie Q to interpose herself between David and the man.

"Mr. Benning," she said in a no-nonsense tone, "David doesn't have your jacket. None of us do. We'll try to get it for you but right now it's not here."

The man glared at
Alma
, his eyes wild. Sally shrank back. David took Susie Q's arm and led her away but Sally couldn't seem to move.

"I want it," the man said. His face changed, crumpling, tears rolling down his face. "It's green," he sobbed. "My jacket."

"I know, Mr. Benning,"
Alma
said. "We'll write your wife about your jacket. Perhaps she'll bring it when she visits you. You didn't have a jacket when you came here so I've never seen it."

No longer scared, Sally peered at the man, noticing his right hand was bandaged. Somehow he looked familiar. She watched him turn away and shamble along the corridor until
Alma
guided him back into his room.

"Wish they'd up his tranq dose,"
Alma
said to Sally when she returned. "He had a bad reaction his first night here because he'd been drinking before admission so they're limiting his Thorazine. He's acquired this fixation and we go through this same scene at least once a shift. For some reason he seems to associate David with his missing jacket."

"Is his name Dolph?" Sally asked, finally recalling where she'd seen him before.

"How did you know?"

"The afternoon I got here he was in the lobby waiting room with another man who called him Dolph. All of a sudden he ran off. For what it's worth, I'm not positive but I think he did have on a green jacket."

"That's really strange,"
Alma
said. "Things do have a tendency to disappear around here, though—unfortunately. A lot of the patients don't know—" She broke off abruptly and dived into another room.

Sally followed her as far as the doorway.

"Laura Jean, we do not strip on this ward,"
Alma
was telling a girl who looked like a teenager. "Clothes are to be kept on."

"Why?" the girl asked, curling up on the floor. Her blond hair, tousled and unkempt, straggled over her face. She was totally naked.

"Put on your clothes, Laura Jean,"
Alma
ordered. "Now." The girl stared at her sullenly but didn't resist when
Alma
crouched down and began dressing her.

I'll never be able to approach these patients like
Alma
does, Sally thought. How can she keep her cool? How does she know they aren't going to be violent? She realized she ought to go in and help
Alma
get clothes on Laura Jean, but she couldn't bring herself to enter the room. Maybe because she didn't feel like a nurse without her uniform. At least she hoped that was why, because very soon she'd be in uniform on another ward, on Thirteen West, and she'd have to take care of patients.

"Laura Jean, stand up so I can get your jeans on,"
Alma
ordered.

The girl obeyed slowly. As she came erect, she raised her head and looked straight at Sally, who tried not to flinch at the feral gleam in those pale blue eyes. Laura Jean smiled. Then, while Sally watched in horrified disbelief, she leaned over and bit
Alma
on the shoulder.

Alma
screamed and brought her free hand up to pound her fist against the side of the girl's face until she let go. Then, blood staining the shoulder of her uniform, she knocked Laura Jean backwards onto the bed.

"You little bitch,"
Alma
muttered. "You're going to get zonked for that and I don't care if you never wake up."

Chapter Four