Page 6 of In a Haze

I shrug, because it’s like he hasn’t been listening to me. “I’m telling you I don’t rememberanything.”

“Shh. You don’t want anyone to hear that.” He looks around, almost paranoid, reminding me that we are in a mental hospital, and I wonder if he’s got heightened paranoia issues. Maybe that’s what’s going on with him—but what about me? He asks, “Nothing?”

“Nothing. There is literally nothing I can remember.”

“That sucks. I guess in some ways that might not be bad. Do you think maybe you’re blocking out some horrible memories?”

That thought hasn’t occurred to me. “Maybe.” I don’t like that idea at all, but it is definitely possible. What the hell kind of pictures are trapped behind the curtain in my mind?

Almost whispering, he continues talking, but he’s looking out the window. “You have to figure out a way to dispose of your meds. If they find them, then they’ll know you haven’t been taking them.”

“What about the ones I didn’t take already?”

“If it was me, I’d look all through my room. See if you hid them somewhere in there.”

“What are you doing with yours?”

“I work out a little of the hem on the bottom of my shirt.” He lifts his t-shirt and shows me how he’s managed to separate the threads. “Then I slide them in there. When I go to the bathroom in the morning, I flush them down the toilet.”

“Do you have someone watching you, taking you everywhere?”

“You mean like Rose does with you?” I nod my head and he continues. “No. But I don’t seem as helpless as you.”

“Helpless?”

“Anna, with the exception of today, you’ve been…what’s that word they use?Catatonic. The only time you seemed to even care about anything was when I’d talk to you. Even when you didn’t say a lot, your eyes told me you were listening.”

An idea shoots itself through my brain, making me shiver with realization. “They’re going to be able to figure out I’m not taking my meds if I’m that much different now. I don’t even know how to act like I was before.”

Slowly, he nods, clenching his jaw. Finally, he says, “Just don’t talk to anybody. Or, if you do, give ‘em one-word answers. And when a tech or a nurse is around, just stare off into space.”

“Do you know if I ever have sessions with a psychiatrist or something?”

“I don’t know. You do have group once a week.”

“Group?”

“Yeah, we all have different sessions, but you and me are in the same one. It’s on Wednesdays.”

“And I never said anything?”

“No, not really. There was one time. You’d been here for a couple of months but you hadn’t been to a group session yet, at least not that I knew of. They had you doing ECT and some other stuff first. You were in group, and you were trying to say something.”

This is a window to my past. “What did I say?”

“Jesus. I can’t remember. That feels like forever ago.” But I can tell he’s not done talking. Instead, he’s probing his brain. “You said something aboutcattle.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Cattle. Cows. That’s all I can remember.”

I have no idea why I would have said anything about cows, but I hope to find out sometime.

About this time, Rose walks by, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Doing okay, Anna?” I consider smiling but realize, based on Joe’s description of my former self, that it might be a bad idea, so I merely make eye contact and give her a short nod. The way she looks at me with a warm, sweet smile tells me she’s bought it. Then she looks at Joe. “What about you, Joe? Doing all right?”

“Yup. Better than a man deserves.”

Somehow, I doubt that.

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