I don’t know if talking in Group helped. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. That was funny; I hadn’t expected that. I talked for about a week. Well, it seemed like that to me. I know it wasn’t quite that way, but it seemed . . .
Oh well. It doesn’t matter.
That was more than three weeks ago. Since then I suppose I’ve been a bit better. They seem to think so here, Marj and Dr Singh and Sister Llosa. They’ve put me on the Patients’ Committee, for instance. I get to welcome new patients, collect suggestions to improve the place, listen to complaints about the food, stuff like that.
There sure have been plenty of new patients to welcome. I’m the only one left of our little group. Ben went home. I don’t think he was much better, or that he’d learnt much, but he went home anyway. Esther went to live with her grandmother, the one she doesn’t like, and her father. Her mother said she wanted some time to herself, so Esther couldn’t go to her. Emine went home. She was really nervous about it but it was her decision: she didn’t want to stay here any longer.
Daniel went home three days ago. He was good: his showers were down to ten minutes, which makes them shorter than mine. Maybe he passed his disease on to me. Oliver went home today. That was awful. I’ve been dreading it for more than a week. I didn’t cry in front of him but God, I bawled my eyes out after he’d gone. I don’t love him or anything like that: it’s just that he became my best friend, so close to me that I could tell him anything.
He gave me his phone number and all that stuff. I’ll ring him tomorrow. I hope we can talk. The nurses say that friendships formed in here don’t usually survive outside. I hope they’re wrong.
I miss them all, Ben and Cindy and Oliver and Emine and Esther and Daniel, I miss them all. They became my brothers and sisters.
And now I go around the place welcoming their replacements.
They’re not too easy to welcome, though. They’re so nervous, so messed up when they come in here. I go into their rooms to introduce myself and tell them how the place works and most of them look at me like I’m an axe murderer or serial killer, like, if they make a false move I’ll attack them with my ballpoint pen. I don’t blame them. I was that way, too. Being in a psych hospital, God, I just knew they were going to put me in a padded cell or a straitjacket and leave me here for twenty years.
For example, I’ve learned not to stand between new patients and the doors of their rooms—even that makes them nervous.
The most common question here has always been ‘what are you in for?’ but I never ask it too soon. I figure you’ve got to get to know people a bit first. Not like Daniel: he loved asking. He couldn’t wait to find out. Half the time he just got stupid answers though. Cindy used to say she was allergic to pumpkin.
Some people say they’ve got the ‘s’ word: that’s schizophrenia. Some people say they’ve got the ‘a’ word: that’s anorexia. Some people just say ‘Depression’. Some people just show you the scars on their wrists.
But gradually, no matter what they say, you figure it out. So now we have Beth who’s got bulimia. There’s Tony, who’s in a wheelchair, but he’s meant to be really violent. There’s Jacqui, who’s been expelled from four schools and run away from home a hundred times. There’s Nick, who gets panic attacks and can’t breathe. There’s Tanya, who cuts herself, not like slashing her wrists, but just, I don’t know, because she wants to, I suppose. And there’s a new girl, I don’t know her name or what she’s here for. I guess she’s replacing Oliver. She came in a couple of hours ago. Tomorrow I’ll have to go and do my welcoming routine: ‘Good morning and welcome to the funny farm. We hope you enjoy your stay. This resort has everything you could ever ask for, including Mr Miles who’ll try to take you into the Mens’ so he can grope you and Max who thinks the CIA are after him and Bernadette, who’ll wake you up in the middle of the night trying to strangle you. Don’t worry though, she’s not strong enough to do it. Have a nice day.’
I think if I had anywhere to go they’d probably discharge me pretty soon, too. But with Dad not getting bail and Mum still not capable of looking after herself, let alone anyone else, they’re not quite sure what to do with me. I’ll probably do like Mark and go to boarding school. I don’t know about the holidays. I think Mark’s going to stay with friends from Clifford College. Probably Josh. Mark’s lucky; he’s still got friends from his old school. I don’t think I do. It’s two months since I heard from anyone from my school.
Maybe I’ll just stay here forever, welcoming people and saying goodbye to people. I might be the first permanent member of the Patients’ Committee. Safe in here, safe and secure, protected from the piranhas, not having to think about my family and my friends and how I killed my darling dog, Checkers.