Page 19 of In a Haze

We sit on my bed and the way he smiles at me makes my tummy clench. But, instead of talking about any sort of desire I might be feeling and also unable to articulate, I ask, “What did you do before you came here?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, baby.”

I find that I kind of like that little nickname, but the only way he’ll know is if he sees it in my eyes, because I’m not going to say it out loud. “I just—I…I want to know what life outside of here is like. It feels like I’ve only been here a few days and already feel like I know all there is to know about this place.”

His blue eyes grow dark, as if a cloud passed in front of the sun. How do I remember that anyway? But the expression on his face communicates more than his words. “There’s lots you don’t know.”

“Then tell me about that instead if you want.”

“Maybe later. Let’s just say this place has an underlying evil to it. It’s not one particular person. It’s like a machine, like it’s possessed, and it slowly consumes the unsuspecting.” I feel my brow furrow as I question if he’s being overly dramatic or completely serious, but I say nothing. “That’s why I wanted—why we needed—to stop taking our meds. That’s the first step.”

“The first step towhat?”

“To getting back our minds. I mean, they say we’re here so they can protect us and others from ourselves, but have you seen anybody here harm someone else?”

I haven’t been here (in sound mind, that is) long enough to be able to name a lot of examples, but I say, “Do you remember the other day when that woman—Denise?—was banging her tray and they had to—”

“Yeah, but did she hurt anyone?”

“That one guy. With a fork.”

“Yeah, but did she hurt any one ofus? It’s us against them in here, Anna, and we have to do what we have to do to keep ourselves safe.”

“But no one was hurting her then.”

He’s quiet again, and his eyes make him look angry. “Then. You and I, we saw her for, like, three minutes, right? What about all the other twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes? They do shock treatment therapy here—ECT. And I don’t know what else they do behind closed doors, but I’ve heard things. I don’t trust any one of these fuckers with my life. They’d just as soon kill me with medicine than they would save me from my brain or anything else. So we gotta look out for ourselves.”

I think of the woman I saw on the first day I can remember—but what if I’m making her up in my head? I feel like I can’t even trust myself. “What about Rose?”

“WhataboutRose? She’s one of them, baby. We can’t trust any of ‘em.”

I hate that idea, but I’m not about to argue with Joe. So far, he’s really seemed to know what he’s talking about. “What about other, um, patients?”

“Those guys? I think we have to take ‘em one at a time. Some of them, yeah, I think we can trust them. Some of them, though, are so blitzed out of their minds, whether they’re really crazy or just drugged out, that they can’t even think. Kind of like you used to be most days before now. And some of them, well, they don’t act in their own best interests.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I guess I don’t mean exactly that. Theydoact in what theythinkis their best interest—like by selling someone else out, not realizing they’re no better off, even being a sellout.” My face must have a dubious expression again, and I wonder if I was always this naïve before I came here, before I forgot everything. “Think about it this way, Anna. What do you think would happen if one of these guys caught you flushing your pills? Do you think they would give you a wink, likeyour secret’s safe with me? Or do you think, more likely, they’d snitch on you the first chance they got?”

“But what would they have to gain?”

“Privileges. Shit you and I know nothing about—but I know it happens.”

I want to ask him how he knows, but instead my brain goes to two people—the first is therep resentwoman. I don’t know how she could tattle on me, but I’ve honestly not tried having a real conversation with her. I could be totally wrong. Then I think of Bobbi, a woman who seems like my natural enemy. I have the feeling if she caught me doing something against the rules, she’d use the information to manipulate me into doing her will—whatever that might be.

“I’m telling you, Anna, much as you might not like it—it’s you and me against all of them. If someone out there gives me cause to believe they’re on our side, I’ll give them a fair shake. Until then, I view them as the enemy. I’m gonna find a way out of this fucking place—for youandme—and nobody here is gonna stop me.”

Part of me is frightened by what’s out there—but I realize then and there that I will go anywhere with Joe.

Even to hell and beyond.

8

After an early dinner on Sundays is Bingo. According to Joe, this is tradition. Fortunately, this game feels familiar to me. Even if not, the rules seem fairly simple.

As we’re sitting there waiting for the aide to call the next number, I’m bored out of my skull. Apparently, it’s always this way. Super slow, waiting for some of the more unfortunate souls to get help. I’m not sure why people brought them in here, because it’s obvious that some of them don’t even know what’s going on.

I wonder to myself if it’s mental illness—or overmedicating, as Joe has suggested. I whisper, “Are they always like that?” I’m pointing my head toward two in particular just in front of Joe.

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