Page 23 of In a Haze

But when I get to the exterior wall, I discover the rubber baseboard there is a bit loose. That’s all I need. I turn and begin feeling carefully with my fingers around the area where I think the capsule contents are and I eventually find them. First, I pick up the outer shell and place it near my pillow and then I try to pick up every stupid little bead I can get my fingers on. It begins to feel painstaking, but then I realize it’s just as easy to pick them up by pressing the pad of my finger into them and then sliding the finger on the opposite palm. Soon, I have most of them if not all in my hand, and then I slide on my knees toward the loose baseboard.

This is the easy part.

I hold my palm up close to the wall and carefully brush the beads off with the opposite index finger. Then I feel along the inside of the baseboard. Unlike the other section, this part has lost most of its stickiness, but I still think it will do the trick. I press it back against the wall and then let out another long breath of air.

Crawling over toward my bed, I brush all around the area where I’d been sitting, just in case there’s any leftover evidence I’m unable to see in the dark. Then I feel up on my bed. It takes some time, but I finally find the two sides of the capsule, and I cram one end into the other before sliding it under the pillow with the other pills.

That means there is no easy way to dispose of the medicine. I’m back to flushing unless or until I can figure something else out.

But at least tonight sleep comes easily.

*

This morning, Rose has reappeared like a ray of sunshine. I give her half a smile as I feel under my pillow for the pills and then, as I sit up, I pretend to be stretching when, really, I’m looking for evidence of my activity last night. When I see a few beads that look like boulders to my eyes against the pale tiles, I place my foot on them. “How did you sleep, Anna?”

I remember that I actually had a conversation with her the other day, so it’s not like I should completely clam up around her now. I admit how I’m feeling. “Not well. I feel pretty tired today.”

“It might be because of your meds. I’ll mention it to the RN.”

Crap. The last thing I need is them examining my medicine. What if they’ll do drug tests or something? “No, don’t worry about it. I just had weird dreams last night.”

“That could be medicine related, too, honey,” she says, waiting for me to join her at the door.

I am just burying myself here, aren’t I? One last try… “They fed us pepper steak at dinner. It tasted really good, so I ate more than I usually do. My stomach was really upset, so I think maybe that was the problem.”

“Oh, yeah, that could do it,” she says, allowing me to walk through the doorway. “Well, if you think you’re having problems with your meds, you let me know and I’ll have the RN check you out, okay?”

“Thanks.” I feel like I just dodged a major bullet.

“In the meantime, I bet you’re really looking forward to using the ladies’ room this morning.” She flashes me a warm smile and I give her one back—a genuine one, because I really like her.

It’s like night and day, the way Rose cares for me compared to the weekend crew—at least, that’s what I’m assuming the last two days were indicative of. Unlike yesterday and the day before, Rose gently escorts me to the bathroom by myself instead of taking several of us herded like a pack of animals. Her kindness and the way she’s protective of me tell me she’s a good person. I know Joe’s said it’s us against them, but I feel like Rose has a good heart, like out of all the other workers here, I could trust her.

I sense that about her.

Still…I worry if I should let her know things have changed. I really want to ask her questions about me, but I know it’s potentially dangerous. As it is, I risk smiling at her a little and she smiles back before patting me on the shoulder. “You’re doing great, girl. You really are.”

That feels like the opening I’ve been waiting for, a risk I guess I’m willing to take. “What did I do before I came here?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, honey.”

“I can’t remember anything before being here, so I wondered if you could tell me something about myself.”

“I wish I could, Anna—but I only started working here a few months ago. I haven’t known you that long.” I try not to let the disappointment show on my face as we near the bathroom. Rose says, “I would ask your psychiatrist. In fact, she’d probably want to know about your memory problems, too.”

We’re venturing into dangerous territory again, so as I open a stall, I say, “Thanks. That’s a good idea.”

I’ll need to meet my psychiatrist first before I decide to ask any questions.

*

As I head toward the cafeteria, I realize how the medicine they give us here could be a welcome relief for lots of these people. I haven’t been aware for long and already I can see that being cooped up in this place with little to do could grow boring fast. There’s little here to nurture our minds or strengthen our bodies, and that just lends to Joe’s theory about them keeping us docile and forgetful—easy to manage while lining their pockets.

I’d like to believe it’s not true, but I’m already beginning to hate this place.

Walking down the hall, I spy someone coming out of a room. It’s Sharon in her wheelchair, rolling herself out. If I wasn’t trying to act like my old self, I’d pick up my pace to get past her faster, but instead I’m going to arrive at her location just as she’s fully in the hallway.

Maybe she just wants attention.

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