Nine o'clock sharp, Alex was standing right outside of the elevator, waiting for Mabel to show up. Weirdly enough, this would be the first time they'll see each other for real and talk. He scoffs when he remembers the conversations he had with his mom and aunt earlier this day.
"Why are you going to the mental ward?" his mom had asked him when he'd asked for permission to go. He knew he could, but anyway. It's nice to ask.
"Because I think it's a nice thing to do. Besides, she invited me. And I said yes because I invited her to my game and she said yes to go. She'd like to sit with you, by the way."
Jennifer sighs and looks at his son with passion. He's so humble and so kind at the same time that it's hard to believe he's just one person. She's proud of him.
"Yeah, okay, of course can you go with her. Do you know when you'll be back, or should I just wait for a call?"
"I don't know," he shrugs, "but I'll text you, or, yes, I can call you too. Are you heading to the HQ?"
"Yes, I was thinking of getting some paperwork done, and if you're gone too today, I won't feel bad for leaving." She shoves him playfully in his ribs when he groans. It's an old conversation that always comes back. He has told his mom at least twenty times that he's fine with her going to work and leaving in order to catch some criminals. He's said that she shouldn't be too hard om herself and that she should not feel at least guilty, even though they both know that sometimes Alex wishes to have his mom around.
"Okay, I'm going to call Aunt Olive now. By the way, the new security code is Kloven_24Drawer."
Jennifer snorts in her coffee.
"What kind of a name is that?"
"A screen name," Alex defends himself. "I saw it when I was playing FIFA the other day. It's slightly different: there were numbers at the end, but I cut them out. The code's long enough as it is. Are you going to change it?"
"Yeah, I will. Call me if you're home before me. Okay?"
"Sure…"
He had called his aunt, praying that she would be on her way for the eight to four shifts, hoping that he hadn't woken her up if she now had the night shifts.
"Al, how's life?"
"Hi, Aunt Olive, how you're doing?"
"Oh, you're ever so polite. But, yeah, thanks. Oh, you know, I'm good as always. Still kicking ass and helping people out. And you?"
"Same. Are you heading for work today?"
"I am, very soon actually? Why?"
"Could I ride with you today to your job?"
"Yes, sure you can. Is someone you know sick?"
"No, it's nothing like that," he says quickly as he goes downstairs to find his wallet and keys. "I'm heading there to… Yeah, I don't know acutely what I'll be doing, but I'm going there with one from my class. It's like…we're visiting those mentally ill people to cheer them up, I supposes."
"Oh! Yeah, you're going to the A Friendly Hand program?"
"Ah… I guess? I don't really know much, Auntie."
"I see, but I believe it's that. But yes, I'll pick you up in half an hour, okay? Be ready, I can't afford to be late. And in this traffic now on Saturdays, it's awful."
"Okay, thank you very much. I'm ready now so I'll be waiting. Bye."
And here he is. Waiting on Mabel and she's one minute late now. He sighs and looks around. The mental ward is quiet now, but he's heard someone arguing and somewhere someone broke a glass.
"Hi."
Alex whirls around and sees Mabel. She's smiling somewhat nervous to him and leaves the elevator. He quickly smiles back and offers her his hand.
"Hi. Alexander Jareau, as you know. Sorry…uh, I thought it would be more polite if we just…did this." He stammers and looks down. Mabel giggles and takes his hand.
"I'm Mabel Hastings. It's nice to meet you, and thank you for coming with me here. It's nice to see that someone cares. Are you ready?"
He nods. They walk over to the receptionist area and Mabel talks with one of the women behind the big counter.
"Who is this?" The woman nods towards Alex who looks uncertain back at her.
"It's a school friend of mine. He's agreed to join the program."
"Intern or helper?"
"Uh… Helper?" Mabel shoots Alex a quizzical glance. He shrugs and nods, though he has no idea of what it includes. "Helper it is. If you want, you can take a course and become a senior helper like me. I'm also an intern, but just a junior."
"Uh… Okay."
He doesn't know the difference anyway, but he's not going to ask. The woman smiles and gives him a form to fill out. Basic details about him, if he had some experience with mentally ill people, if he has ever been diagnosed with a mental diagnosis, if he's on some kinds of medication and if he'd like to work on regular hours; they need to know everything. Two minutes later, Alex hands the form back and he has to take a picture, sign under and then he gets an ID card pinned to his shirt. He sees that Mabel pins her own too. She beams at him.
"Now, I'll show you around before we meet the first group."
Mabel walks with Alex over the whole ward. The bathrooms, the rooms, the departments, the on-call rooms, the cantina area, the big living room, the library, some hang-out rooms, as she calls it, a library and the strictly forbidden offices to the ones who work here.
"So…what kind of stuff are we going to do here?" Alex asks her.
"Have you heard of the program before?"
"A Friendly Hand?"
"Yes," she says excited. "It's a program for everyone in every age to come and visit people who are in mental facilities. We're supposed to help them in ways the staff can't. Like," she adds when she sees Alex's confused expression, "we can offer them someone on their own age to talk to, or just hang out with. But we're not their shrink."
"So they're paying us to pretend to be their friends?" Alex says. He can't hide the misbelief in his voice. Mabel shakes her head.
"No, of course not," she assures him. "It's not going to be like that. We rarely get paid, actually, as I said, we get food and we get to hang out with them when they can go to the movies or bowling and stuff like that. They pay us to just be there for them and listen, being a nice person. We don't have to be their friend, but I'd like to see you not get attached with them. It's real simple, actually."
She smiles assumingly. Alex nods in understanding.
"But…what do I have to do. What do I do if they want to talk to me and I can't comfort them with a satisfying answer?" Now he sounds worried. He doesn't want to screw up, or screw them up.
"Again: you're not their shrink and they know it. If they ask you a personal question or want an advice, it means that you've been here long enough that he or she considers you as a friend. Then you just have to be a friend back."
Twenty minutes later, Alex's introduced to a group of people who suffers from depression and mild cases of suicidal thoughts. It is ten people or so, mostly young girls.
"Hi, everyone. Most of you know me, I'm Mabel Hastings, and I've brought with me a friend of mine."
A friend, Alex thinks and he smiles shyly to the group. Some smile back.
"Hey guys. Uh…okay. My name's Alexander Jareau, but you can call me Alex."
"I was thinking that you could get to know him if you want, and we can just start with some ordinary things. You know, talking and dancing. I've brought with me some music, but I have to admit that my music taste is pretty…weird from what I think most of you like to listen to. If someone wants to help me out, that would be great. Now, we got music, some food over there, and, most important, you're here. Shall we get started?"
Everyone start walking around, they seem like they've done this a hundred times before. Some probably have.
A quite skinny boy comes forward to Alex. He looks suspicions at him and says:
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"Maybe," Alex replies and shrugs, not daring to say anything else.
"She's not, I can see it. But I think she'd like to be your girlfriend."
Alex cocks an eyebrow.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yup, also, I believe you hope you can be her boyfriend. What's stopping you?"
"We just met," Alex clarifies, "for like half an hour ago. She's a transfer from another school. We've been chatting and she asked me if I wanted to tag along here."
"In which you said yes, because you're hoping that she'll notice it and like you," the boy continues. He sounds so confident. Alex shrugs again.
"I don't know, man. I don't feel like I'm in love or something."
"It's no such thing as love with first sight that's that powerful," the boy lectures him. Some music comes and some people start dancing, others are just hanging around and Alex can see Mabel smiling warmly as she heads for a lonely girl who's sitting on her chair, not daring to do anything else.
"But it doesn't mean that you can't feel like you like her. You saw her and she saw you. Each of you liked each other instantly, but not like love. Just liking, and that's fine. That's a good start. I think you should get to know her."
"Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Matchmaker?" Alex jokes.
"Nope, I don't."
"What's your name?"
"Stan." Stan waves to Mabel who gave the boys a careful glance. "I've been here since last spring. The exam period got the worst of me: I've got too skinny and too angry too fast. Now I'm here." He explains it like he should've explained a direction to a total stranger. Alex doesn't say anything.