Page 14 of In a Haze

“Fall out, Clawson.”

I’m a soldier now?

Knowing instinctively that I don’t dare question her authority, I keep my eyes looking down and begin walking out the door. I keep both my hands in loose fists and hope she doesn’t notice. I consider putting them together in front of me, but that might arouse even more suspicion. I know I’ll have to figure out some other way to get rid of my pills in the future, and I wonder how Joe’s getting his all the way to the bathroom. Maybe by putting them back in his mouth?

Just like yesterday with Rose, we head toward the bathroom, but this woman is picking up people along the way so I’m soon surrounded by several other women. I feel relief knowing those pills in my hand will be harder to spot in a group.

She’s picked up just enough people so that we can all have our own stall. As we walk into the area—more crowded with lots more bodies than yesterday—one woman with blonde hair and brown eyes looks me up and down. “There’s something different about you, Anna,” she says.

This can’t be good. Can she tell I’m not taking my meds?

“What is it, huh?” She gets close to my face, close enough that I wish she’d brushed her teeth already, and stares me down. I try not to let emotion through, including that bit of fear that I’ve been found out, because I know that could make my pupils get larger.

It could give me away.

“Get a move on, Stewart,” says the woman who feels like a drill sergeant, but at least the woman in my face backs off.

“Ooh,” says her friend, “I think you made Anna mad. Look at how she’s clenching her fists.”

“Hmm.” The blonde raises her eyebrows before heading into a stall.

Unfortunately, that means two of us are stuck out here waiting to use a toilet—which means more potential time for me to be caught. When the first person exits, I don’t want to cause a scene or be too obvious, so I nod, letting the other woman go—but she shakes her head violently. Whether I were to go or not, she is not going to step in the vacated stall.

So I do—and immediately understand why she didn’t want to. It smells like shit.

Literally.

But I lean against the door with my shoulder and use my one free hand to turn the lock. Hurrying, I grab some toilet paper to try what I’d thought of before—wrapping the pills up so they go straight down. I put them in and flush before sitting down to empty my bladder. When I stand up to flush again, I have two problems—one is that the wad of toilet paper is circling in the bowl and the second is that the water pressure isn’t enough to take it down. I’m going to have to wait. Meanwhile, the stench of shit is making me want to throw up.

Someone bangs hard on my door, making me jump. “Hurry it up, Clawson. We don’t have all day!”

Yes, a far cry from gentle Rose’s treatment yesterday.

I don’t say a word, because I don’t want to be found out. I continue watching the water swirl and swirl and swirl, water seeming to drip from the edges of the bowl, but it seems to be slowing, so I wonder if I should take a chance flushing.

More banging. “Clawson, you have thirty seconds. Otherwise, I’m coming in there.”

Desperate, I flush again and it’s still not going down, meaning I didn’t wait long enough—but I’m out of time. If it hasn’t gone down now, thirty seconds won’t be enough for it to flush.

I need to think fast.

Another wave of shit smell—this time from the connecting stall—hits my nose, and I decide to let it happen. I breathe the stench in deeply through my nostrils and conjure up disgusting images in my head (hard to do when your memory is short) and, as soon as rude Red opens the door, I puke loudly into the toilet.

More than once.

She actually apologizes. “Shit. Sorry, Clawson. Take your time.”

But that’s something to remember. They can unlock the stall at will.

I have no privacy here.

Maybe Joe is right. Maybe weareprisoners.

*

Later that afternoon, Joe and I are in my room—door open as he says we’re supposed to—talking. “But I wondered if maybe there’d be a way I could drop the pills in the small drain in the shower.”

“You could, Anna, but don’t do it in the morning.”

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