Page 46 of In a Haze

“I think I’m good,” I say, but when we dump our trays, I keep the nondescript cookie and munch on it as we leave.

My stomach is filled to the brim, and I almost feel uncomfortable. But, aside from a slight lingering feeling of floatiness, I’m returning to the land of the lucid.

When I realize Joe is leading me toward the living room, I say, “Why aren’t we going to my room?” After all, when we’re in there, we don’t have to watch what we say as much.

He whispers. “No fucking way, Anna. If a tech’s keeping an eye on you, that makes you stand out like a sore thumb. And, after all that stuff, for all we know, they’re bugging your room now or something. I don’t trust these fuckers, and we’re not taking any chances.”

Soon, we’re sitting in our usual spots, looking out the window. While it’s still light outside, the quality of it has faded, as if the sun’s about to dip behind the horizon at any moment. I have no sense of time here, and that’s not exactly discouraged by the facility. There are no obvious clocks anywhere and, while things feel like they’re on a schedule, no one tells us anything like that.

Traffic seems heavy on the street below, and it’s moving smoothly. After we’ve been sitting for a bit and Joe is satisfied that we’re not being closely watched, he begins talking. “You wanted to look at your file. I say we do it tonight.” I raise my eyebrows as he continues. “I practiced on those locks last night. You know, the ones leaving our main area back to where the offices and all that shit is. I can open them just fine.”

“So how do we do that exactly?”

“We wait. The guards don’t come around as often later. The first few hours after lights out, they come by every fifteen minutes to half an hour, probably because that’s when we’re more likely to be up. Later, though, I bet they come around once every hour or maybe even two.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think you’ve noticed the cameras.”

That sounds familiar, but it’s fuzzy. “There are cameras?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they keep as close an eye on them as they should. The guard during the week, I think, either reads or watches TV most of the night. The weekend guard loves the ladies, though. That’s the thing—when they’re patrolling, they’re not watching the cameras, so I usually leave my room right after I’ve just seen them walk by.”

“What about the other night? When you left my room?”

“Sometimes I just take a chance that they’re not watching. They record everything, but they obviously don’t review the recordings. I think they do if something happens. Like if a fight breaks out, stuff like that. Otherwise, I don’t think they keep a close eye on them.”

“Where are they—the cameras?”

“They’re in the upper corners at the ends of the hallway. They have them in other spots, too, like in here.” When I start to turn, Joe says, “Be subtle. Look toward the rec room door maybe, but use your peripheral vision to look to the upper right. That’s the corner the camera’s in.”

Scrunching my shoulders, I turn and then pretend to stretch my neck and, as I am, I glance quickly at the corner. Sure enough, there’s a longish tube with a lens at the end. I’m not sure why I’ve never noticed them before. Or, if I did, I just don’t remember it.

“Why don’t they have cameras in our rooms?”

“Probably too expensive, but I think it’s one of those things thought of as a civil rights violation. I know that’s what someone told me about the bathrooms. I told you about some woman getting raped, right? So a couple of the patients demanded cameras in the bathrooms and were told they couldn’t. That’s why a tech is usually in there when there are lots of patients.”

“They need to be there when therearen’t.”

“True.” Joe is quiet for a second and then says, “There are also cameras in the seclusion rooms.”

“Seclusion? Is that what you called solitary?”

“Yeah. If they think you’re going to harm yourself, they put you in there. It reallyispadded and there’s nothing in there you could hurt or kill yourself with—not that it matters. They’ll usually dope you up good before putting you in there.”

“How come you know so much about this place, Joe?”

For perhaps the first time something indescribable seems to slide off of Joe’s face, revealing something he’s kept hidden from me. “I’ve been here a long damn time, Anna. And I’m trouble. And when you’re trouble, they make sure you see all the nastiness here. It might seem calm and peaceful on the surface, but it’s not. It’s ugly and destructive, and I’ve seen it from the bottom.” When he looks in my eyes, he says, “I’m hoping to save you from all that. I don’t want you to see what I’ve seen.”

I wonder…because if yesterday is any indication of how things shift around here when you’re considered trouble, maybe I’m on that path, too.

But now there’s no turning back.

17

Joe and I sit in silence again as the world below us seen only through glass grows darker. I know that means the powers that be will be shuttling us all off to bed soon.

But I have so many questions.

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