Page 64 of Ward D
I decide to check it out. It’s an uncharacteristically brave choice on my part, but I need to know what’s going on. And the screams sound disturbingly familiar.
It’s very clear where the noise is coming from. Several patients have gathered in the hallway to watch the show, which consists of Mary Cummings standing outside her room and screaming at the top of her lungs. All the veins are standing out in her neck.
“Damon Sawyer!” she screams as spittle flies from her lips. “Damon Sawyer!”
It takes both Dr. Beck and Ramona to restrain her. For a woman of almost eighty years old, she sure has a lot of energy. She’s got one of those steel knitting needles gripped in her right hand, and Ramona has to wrestle it loose. It clatters to the floor and rolls away.
“Damon Sawyer is going to kill all of you!” she screams at her audience. “He’ll do it! He’s going to kill every single one of you!”
I remember Dr. Beck described this very behavior at the beginning of the shift. Sundowning, he called it—when, in the evening, an elderly person becomes confused and agitated. Well, now I’m seeing it in action.
“Mary.” Dr. Beck is speaking through his teeth as he and Ramona back her into her room. “You need to calm down, Mary. Please.”
“I will not!” Mary shrieks. She addresses the crowd surrounding her. “He’s going to do it! We need to stop him! He’s evil! An evil, sadistic man!”
“Ramona.” Dr. Beck turns to look at the nurse. “You pulled the IM Ativan?”
Ramona nods. “Let’s get her in the bed first.”
“No!” Mary howls. She looks wildly at the crowd, and her eyes finally rest on me. “Amy! Amy, you’ve got to stop him! Please!”
I back up, not sure what to say. I look around for help. Clint Eastwood is standing nearby, his bushy eyebrows bunched together, clutching the paper bag of saltines for dear life. My eyes briefly pause on Will and Jade, standing at the periphery of the crowd. And strangely, Jade’s hand is resting on Will’s shoulder.
“No!” Mary is screaming so loud, her vocal cords are straining. “Please no! Please don’t do this!”
But Dr. Beck and Ramona have managed to ease her back into the room. Ramona kicks the door closed behind her, and just like that, the show is over.
Most of the patients shuffle back off to their rooms. Jade and Will are still standing at the periphery of the crowd. Jade’s eyes meet mine for a split second, and she pulls her hand off Will’s shoulder.
That was awfully strange.
Will and Jade walk back to their rooms. He disappears inside 906, and she goes into 905. But even after their doors are closed, I keep looking in that direction. It’s strange how the two of them seemed to have some kind of familiarity with one another. Ward D doesn’t have group sessions, and neither of them have been here even a full week. So there’s no reason why they would have become friends during such a short period of time.
And when I discovered Will wasn’t taking his medications and told Dr. Beck about it, Jade was the one who yelled at me. She accused me of betraying him. Except I never quite understood why she cared so much about a complete stranger.
I think back to what I read in Jade’s chart. She was going from bank to bank, robbing them with a beer bottle. But she wasn’t alone. According to the chart, she went on her crime spree with her boyfriend. Who presumably came to the hospital at the exact same time she did.
The same night Will was admitted to the emergency room.
Oh my God.
Will is Jade’s boyfriend.
41
EIGHT YEARS EARLIER
Ihave no idea where we’re going.
Jade is driving way too fast. She’s going too fast, and she’s got the radio blasting at a deafening volume. I wonder what Mrs. Carpenter would say if she knew Jade was driving so fast in her car. Then again, I doubt Jade’s mother would care.
Jade’s mom has struggled a lot with her mental health.
And these sorts of things can be hereditary.
I squirm in my seat, adjusting the seatbelt, which might be the only thing that keeps me from flying through the windshield if Jade crashes into another car or a tree. I look out the window, watching as she flies through the residential neighborhood. This doesn’t look familiar to me at all.
“Where are we going?” I ask for the tenth time.
