Page 29 of In a Haze

I have a feeling patience has never been one of my strong suits.

What I really want to do is get up and pace, expend some of this nervous energy but, again, there’s a chance of being caught. If I didn’t have that stupid light shining in the window, I could probably get away with it more easily.

Icouldpace against the inside wall, the one separating my room from the hallway. That would allow me to move a little while minimizing the risk of being caught. I stare out the window to the hallway from my bed for just a moment before bouncing up and moving toward the wall. From there, I can still see out of the window on the door down the hall toward the cafeteria, but I can’t look the other direction.

I am so keyed up, but I shouldn’t be. Even though Joe and I have kissed lots of times before, that doesn’t mean anything else will happen.

But something inside me has awakened. Sex feels like such a natural progression, and I know it will be emotional, meaning it will have the possibility of completely cracking my mind open for me to explore.

I’m as excited about that possible outcome as I am the actual act.

Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve had sex before—but I can’t remember, so I’m curious.

I can’t wait to experience it. I hope Joe is thinking the same thing—but I won’t know until he’s here.

After waiting a while longer, I begin to wonder if maybe he was caught sneaking out of his room. If he was, he’ll never show up here—and maybe he’ll be put in that solitary place.

Now my stomach is in knots. Taking a chance, I tiptoe over to the window on the door and peek out. There’s no one in the hall so I look both ways multiple times. There is not a soul out there.

Not that I can do anything. My door, as always, is locked. I doublecheck the handle just to be sure, but it is.

My tummy is roiling so badly, I feel like I could throw up. But now I’m certain something’s happened to Joe and my mood plummets—making me wonder again what I’m in here for. Am I emotionally stable? How would a normal person handle this?

It’s not just my shoulders slumping; it’s my entire body as I shuffle back to my bed. Before I get in, I reach under it and feel against the wall for my pills. It takes a bit to make sure I have them all, but once they’re all in my hand, I rise and crawl into bed, placing them under my pillow.

And now I feel like if I wasn’t so worried about him, I might even cry.

Curled up in a ball, I practically hug myself and try really hard to think of something else—but I can’t. My thoughts are completely with Joe. Now I’m wishing I had paperclips like he does so I could try to escape my room and try to help him—but that’s unrealistic. I have no idea how to make them work.

Something flashes in my brain again of one thing I could do. But it was something someone told me at one time wascomplete and utter bullshit, that stupid hippy stuff. Who was that in my head? I can’t see a face, but I hear a man’s voice—and I see myself with my eyes closed, on the floor, sitting cross legged, my palms face up, resting on my knees—sending good vibes.

Meditating?

I’m not sure, and it’s gone in an instant, but now I wonder if I could do something like that—send Joe positive energy.

Would something like that even work?

It’s better than the alternative.

But as my stomach begins churning acid once more, I hear a click at my door. I open my eyes and sit up—but what if that’snotJoe? What if it’s someone coming to check on mebecauseof Joe? Cautiously, I lie back down, straining to see if I can spy anyone through the window. I don’t, but I can hear something.

Screw it. If someone like a tech or a nurse is coming in my room, I can tell them the truth: I got up because I heard a noise at the door.

And what if one of the pills they give me is supposed to make me sleep?

It doesn’t matter. I’m tired of lying here, completely stressed out.

When I get up, I practically run to the door and, when I get there, I still can’t see anyone through the window—until I get on my tiptoes and look down. Then I can see someone hunched over. I feel the door begin to push against me so I back up. Joe is coming through the doorway, and he pauses just inside as he removes the little pieces of wire out of the keyhole.

I move back a little farther and whisper, “I was starting to worry about you.”

Gently, he eases the door back into place, and I hear a loudclickas it locks again. “I guess I should have warned you that it might take me a little bit. I got out of my room just fine, but there was a nurse and an aide in the hall bitching about something going on. I thought about going the other way, but there’s a door there that’s sometimes locked—not to mention it passes the rec and living rooms. I think they clean them at night, so I didn’t want to chance it.”

“What would happen if they caught you?”

“First, they’d ask why I was up—and, if I was caught in a lie, I might get in trouble.”

“What happens if you get in trouble?”

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