Chapter 4:

CRAZY WOMAN

The little assurance June Collier had in her recovery sank the moment Brigitte Fitzgerald first entered the room that evening. It had been fourteen weeks since June had met the Soldiers Templars, and exactly ten weeks since she had been hospitalized. She was still shaken by the fact that none of it had been real. The doctors had her on four medications, which, to her amazement, totally changed her beliefs. As Dr. Lorraine adjusted the doses, the hallucinations faded as well. June was gaining some confidence that she could at least tell which people were real and which weren't. Bobby wasn't real. She could tell that because he was too anachronistic; none of his comings and goings had any continuity, and most telling: only she could see him. She did her best not to talk to him, though, she hated how it grieved him. She told the doctor about him, and the doctor raised her Zyprexa, which only made her feel more dazed, but did nothing to keep her from seeing Bobby.

Her psychotic odyssey now over, the reality she returned to was bleak and stark. Three months before she had been a perpetual A-student with a scholarship to the University of Toronto. Now, after being locked in Four Point Psychiatric Hospital for two and a half months, she faced a bleak future. Worse, her family didn't visit her, didn't even contact her. She wished at least her sister Angie could forgive her, though it was hard for June to believe even now how disastrously wrong she had been. It felt so certain. Prior to her psychosis and hospitalization, she never admitted to being wrong, and it seemed it had never been necessary, one of the reasons, she realized, why everybody had abandoned her. Now, six weeks before her eighteenth birthday, all indications from her family were she was being thrown out of the house. Her faithless ex, Keith, had been the first to run when she showed signs of psychosis and that had been bad enough, but even concerning him she felt so many regrets now. Soon she would be discharged, and who could she call then? Her unreal friends and enemies were all gone; the cause that previously gave her life such excitement and meaning was gone with them, all illusory, leaving everything dull and empty. She might have imagined all of it, but at least she had a place in it. More than that, her mind had proven itself a huge liar, and she knew she would never regain the self-assurance she always had relied on. Then there was more guilt and more shame from things she had done when psychotic, things she hoped she had not actually done, and things she hoped she never knew about.

Brigitte entered the lounge as June read Jack London's Call of the Wild, which she had already read it four times. What a depressing book to have in a mental hospital! She also had already read every book in this place, and every pamphlet about mental illness and medications multiple times. She asked Dr. Loraine if she could borrow medical her medical books. June already knew the end of this book made her cry reliably, and oddly, she wanted to cry. It would prove she wasn't totally numb. She reached up to touch the small bruise in front of her ear she received from Violet Kramer's elbow yesterday. Though Violet apologized, she surely had done it on purpose. At only four foot eleven (147 centimeters), June was an expert at dodging accidental elbows, but she couldn't dodge Violet's because Violet had aimed it. From fingering the bruise, June's hand swept a lock of brownish-blond hair away from her glasses. She was so nearsighted. She looked over at the television. There were ten other girls, age thirteen-to-twenty in here now. What they all had in common was their minds were broken, like hers. They were all watching the television, making June feel isolated, as television bored her worse than reading Call of the Wild again.

Right then, Laura brought the drugged-out Brigitte into the room, and spoke while Brigitte looked around dazed. June already knew the girl's name, like everyone, from the nursing assignment charts up by the desk. Everyone talked about her audacious escape attempt, and the fact that she had put Phil in the hospital. The staff actually had to call an ambulance to take him into town to Regional. June, who had been in group therapy saw, them take Phil but did not see Brigitte's run for the door, and had not laid eyes on Brigitte until now.

The very sight of Brigitte distressed her and confused her senses. There was some unearthly colour to her, but no it wasn't that, an uncanny sound emanated from her, no, it wasn't that either, an extrinsic odor exuding from her . . . but none of that fit. All of June's senses seemed to be passing the buck between them trying to make sense of what was so obviously wrong with this girl. June had never experienced anything like it. It so alarmed her, that without knowing it, she had involuntarily stood up and begun to back away.

Even more perplexing was who followed Brigitte in. Undoubtedly a hallucination, the tall redhead, like Bobby, had no shadows on her. She dressed differently than everyone in here, more risque with a double midriff, the top one being a fishnet. She had striking white streaks in her long hair. Laura talked to Brigitte but did not talk to the redhead, who also had nobody else's attention when she obviously should. Though just when June thought nobody else saw it, Laura left, and Brigitte then talked to it. It talked back. June couldn't hear what they were saying at this distance, but they were definitely conversing.

I'm seeing somebody else' s hallucination?

Before June could recover, the apparition looked her right in the eye and jumped in surprise. June turned away and looked out the window at the white snow-covered landscape that would very soon fade into total darkness. She felt no escape now from Brigitte or her companion. June guessed, though, that if she could hallucinate a person, she could also hallucinate a real person talking to it. Was Brigitte even real? June's mind had already proven to be a huge liar. Her name was on the chart, everybody was talking about her. Brigitte is REAL. Nevertheless, her mind had never lied to her in a way similar to the inexplicable fear and confusion she felt just looking at Brigitte. Never.

"Hi," said a female voice, timidly.

It was the redheaded hallucination, tall, standing to June's side four feet away, consistent in appearance from June's last gaze; it still wore the blue double midriff and high boots. Some hallucinations did not stay very consistent. Unlike Bobby, it didn't show any signs of bleeding, but instead had fangs and claws. At June's height, she could look right up into its teeth, which, without shadows, made the fangs very obvious. June could not immediately respond to it.

"I know you can see me," it added. "I saw you looking at me."

Despite its appearance, the apparition wasn't nearly as frightening to June as Brigitte, who was definitely real. June was so apprehensive about Brigitte, that she felt learning about her could be a matter of life or death. Though she didn't know if Brigitte's "hallucination" would be the best source.

"Yes, I can see you," said June, looking out the window, lowering her voice. She tried to smile at it. "Now, please tell me why I shouldn't be able to?"

This startled the apparition, which said, "Because nobody else can but my sister."

"Your sister," June said, "That's Brigitte."

She glanced over at Brigitte now, who was watching television, her back to them. Her posture was either tranquilized or sulky.

"You know? Yes," it said, "Brigitte."

"And your name is?"

"Ginger."

"Ginger, glad to meet you. I'm June. I'm used to talking to things that aren't there, and you're a cinch compared to the Rosicrucians."

"To the Rosi-whos?" asked Ginger.

"Never mind, they weren't real Rosicrucians anyway."

"Talking to your imaginary friends again, li'l honey?" June cringed at the sound of the voice, because it was Helen, light blond, brown eyed, wreaking of tobacco like an ashtray, always smiling painfully, always laughing inappropriately.

"Don't call me that," said June.

Life was a total joke to Helen because Helen's life was a total disaster. June was forgiving of her, because despite her cluelessness, Helen was not at all a bad person, which was surprising. June had never been raped by a stepfather, been bounced around in the foster care system, been knocked up, been in a group home and a homeless shelter. These were only a small sample of the ordeals Helen had suffered, and the poor girl was only sixteen.

"Oh, sorry," said Helen, "But you are the cutest!"

"But . . . I'm not bi," said June. "So, please, don't call me by lesbian pet names."

Helen laughed. She could not see Ginger, of course, who looked perturbed at having had their conversation interrupted. She wouldn't have a good impression of Helen, because for some odd reason, Helen did always stagger up to you, even though she wasn't drunk, high or brain damaged.

"I just wanted to let you know you were talking to somebody not here. You might not know it."

June made a gesture toward a medical tech standing in the corner taking notes, "They're taking notes on us Helen, every day," said June. "I'm being watched, Dr. Loraine and Dr. Gadepalli will bring this up to me tomorrow even if I don't. Please, it's not your business. I'd like to be alone."

"Who with?" asked Helen, laughing as she walked away.

"Who was that?" asked Ginger.

"Another patient," whispered June. "She's crazy. I should tell you, so am I." June, turned toward the window.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Ginger closing her eyes, shaking her head.

"So, I can see you, and . . . maybe your sister can see you, too. I saw her talking to you. And tomorrow they'll load me up with enough anti-psychotics to blind me."

"Ah, fuck!" said Ginger.

"I'm kidding." whispered June, who turned slightly from the window and tried to put on a smile, but she was out of practice. "Sort of. What do you want from me?"

"You've gotta help get my sister outta here."

"What makes you think I can do anything like that, Ginger?"

"I don't. But you're the only other person able to see me."

"At least your expectations aren't too high. Why do you think people can't see you?"

"Because I must have died."

June chuckled a little. "So says Bobby."

"What, who?"

"Never mind," whispered June. "You must have died? You don't know?"

"No, I don't know for sure. That's just it. She thinks I'm her hallucination."

"I think you're my hallucination," said June.

"Oh, come on, please, don't play me like that," said Ginger.

"You may just be a ghost. I need to meet your sister to find out. I want to be there and hear her talk to you." June said.

"Good . . ."

"I'll tell you the truth, though," June said, continuing to whisper, "she scares the shit out of me. What would put me in her favor quick?"

Ginger indicated a refrigerator in the corner of the room. "She's starving. I mean, really, she is. She hasn't eaten in five days."

"Whhoo . . . well, we're about to eat, but I guess I could do appetizers with her."

June went to the refrigerator as Ginger said, "They don't have any meat in there, do they?"

"What?" June said, laughing.

June grabbed some flimsy plastic-ware, put it in her pocket and then grabbed as many cups of yogurt as she can hold.

"Now Ginger, talk only to her, not to me. Try to get her to answer you, and don't give her any hint that I can see you."

Ginger nodded. June saw Mandy writing something on the clipboard and clammed up.

Brigitte sulked. TV here sucked. It was some old soap opera of the sort that she never watched, and wondered why other girls did. It was impossible to otherwise distract herself from her hunger or cramps. Her glance at the other girls in the room told her that almost all were in their late teens. Unlike what she experienced in high school, which was a hormonal toilet, none of them were dressed to catch anybody's eye. Their smells were plain, no perfume or artificial scents. So much like grade school, but there were a few new smells she was noticing. The worse thing: she could vaguely smell some kind of food that made her digestive acids try to eat her stomach, but couldn't smell dinner coming yet.

"Hey," said a voice. Brigitte looked to her left to see a strikingly short girl, her hair was a little past shoulder length, shiny gold-brown and disheveled. She was dressed in an oversized shirt. "I'm June, and you're, Brigitte?"

"Yes . . . ?"

"Glad to meet you," she said, extended her hand. Brigitte wouldn't take it. "Oh, everybody knows your name. Your arrival got everyone's attention."

Brigitte noticed that June trembled. She smelled of fear, too. As if noticing, June continued: "I'm just another patient here, and I have a little social anxiety."

As June said that, Brigitte had noticed the food, three cups of yogurt, had been set at the table ten feet away. With a charming smile, June gestured toward it. "You look hungry. Do you want to have some pre-dinner snacks?" Now that June had mentioned food, the thought of Brigitte getting something, anything on her stomach was irresistible.

"Yeah," Brigitte blurted out.

"Let's eat then."

Brigitte got up to see that the Ginger-thing was standing directly behind the chair. It followed them to the table. When Brigitte sat down, it sat right next to her. It couldn't pull the chair out to sit, but just sat as if on some kind of invisible chair again. Brigitte, without any decorum, tore open the yogurt cup and began to rapidly scoop it with the spoon. She was finished in barely a moment. June offered her the extra one, Brigitte took it, same thing, while June watched uneasily.

June was dealing with the intensified sensory syntheses that could not make sense of Brigitte. Wrong hue to Brigitte? No. Wrong sound emanating from her? No? Bad smell? No. The spiral only got worse at close range. This girl was weird, no, had something fractally weird about her. It was both perplexing and alarming. Did anybody else "see" this? June looked around the room. Apparently they didn't.

Brigitte was done with the second cup.

"Here, you could have mine," said June, trying to put on her most appealing smile. "I'm not really hungry, and we're about to have dinner anyway."

Something about the June's look bothered Brigitte. She took the cup and opened it eating in a slower more, decorous manner. "Fucking bitch, Laura, didn't even tell me there was a refrigerator in here."

"It has snacks like yogurt, fruit and ice milk in it," June answered. "That's it. They do have some fresh fruit, too. I think I saw an apple over there you could snack on, and breakfast cereal. What did they do, starve you?"

The look in Brigitte's eyes was wretched. "I haven't eaten in five days and all these fuckers will give me is broth."

"Five days!" said June. "Why did you starve yourself?"

"I didn't," said Brigitte, defensively. "I was unconscious in the hospital. I woke up here and they told me about it."

June was shocked by that: "No wonder you freaked out when you woke up. That's fucking awful."

Momentarily June thought of how questionable it was to transfer somebody to a psych hospital when they hadn't even regained consciousness.

Brigitte was taken aback by the sympathy. "Well, this Dr. Gadfly told me I've been committed."

June laughed nervously. "Gadfly! A good one! Talk to the social worker when he visits."

"When is he here?" asked Brigitte.

"I don't know, but I'll find out."

"Thank you so much!" June was stunned to see the unexpected level gratitude in Brigitte's eyes, like Brigitte expected absolutely nothing from anybody, but was so appreciative of even the smallest favor.

"So, what about your parents, aren't they going to help you?"

Brigitte shook her head: "I'm on my own."

Ginger said: "No, you're not."

Brigitte looked to her side directly at Ginger with annoyance.

"Oh, why?" said June.

"I can't contact them," said Brigitte.

"They won't help yo-?"

"They can't."

"Bee, why have you never told me what happened to Pamela, even?" asked Ginger.

Again, Brigitte looked at Ginger with annoyance but didn't say anything.

"Can't they come out here to help you out?" asked June.

"No, the further away from me, the safer they are," said Brigitte. She looked lonely and weary then. "I don't want to talk anymore about it."

"I'm sorry, Brigitte. I'm not trying to pry into anything about you. I'm just trying to make conversation. A place like this is really boring. The main topic of conversation gets to be what new meds the doctor has you on."

"Well, people here are going to have a lot more to talk about if I don't get out."

June could hear a warning but not really a threat in the tone.

In an absent moment, Brigitte straightened her fingers on her right hand. She covered them back up immediately, but June had already seen them, and hoped that she didn't give away that she had. Previous glances at Ginger's hands showed her what Brigitte's fingers would look like if the nails hadn't been hacked away, not deformed, but not passably human either.

"I hope you get out, too," said June.

"Thank you," Brigitte answered.

"Why were you unconscious for five days?"

"I took an overdose and they found me on the street passed out with a case of severe freezing-my-ass-off syndrome."

"Overdose?" To June, Brigitte did not seem to be the party drug type. Indeed, she was impressed by Brigitte's soberness. "On what? Smack, coke, pills?"

Brigitte snickered, June had poked her pride. "No, nothing like that. I don't take drugs for fun."

As if sensing this as an opportunity Ginger said, "But you have taken those, to try to fight the curse . . . "

"Shut up," said Brigitte, without looking at Ginger.

"I wasn't saying anything," June said.

"Oh, sorry, not you," said Brigitte, "I was lost in thought."

This told June a lot. "Yes, everybody here gets like that sometimes. Well, they're damn late on dinner. By the way, do you have any brothers or sisters, Brigitte?"

"I had a sister, she's dead," said Brigitte, her eyes in despair. "Why?"

"I'm sorry. Just curious. I'm the youngest child. I have two brothers and a sister. Would you believe that none have visited me since I've been in? For a solid two months? Little miss perfect had a meltdown, and they can't deal with it."

"Yeah, that's bad," said Brigitte, like it wasn't the worst.

"But not nearly as bad as some things," said June. "Well, I have to get into my dinner gown. I'll be right back when dinner's here."

"Okay," said Brigitte. "If they serve me broth, you might not want to show up, June."

June got up. "Oh, if you need any, you could get some apples over there, remember."

June left the lounge, hurriedly. When Brigitte looked to her other side, the Ginger-apparition was gone, too. During this conversation, Brigitte could not help but smell how frightened June was of her. Maybe she has social anxiety, but why had June looked at her that way?

For all June's dread, she realized that she both liked and felt pity for Brigitte, who was bereaved and couldn't recover, who felt so hopeless that she treated her sister's ghost as unreal. She kept herself alone and felt some kind of danger with her, an assessment June somehow agreed with. June needed to know why. By the time she had walked down the hall and closed the door to her room, she was out of breath and her heart was pounding.

And Ginger was there.

"Well?" asked Ginger.

"Leave me alone for a minute, will you?"

June went to the bathroom. Like Brigitte's room, the bathroom had no door. Ginger merely turned her back to June.

"Please . . . leave for a second," said June.

"I can't," said Ginger. "I can't go out of your presence."

"What? How and when did that happen?"

"I don't know how. It happened when you left Brigitte's presence and I followed you," said Ginger. "It looks like I can stay with either of you but I can't stay alone, and I can't stay with anyone else . . . that I know of."

"Can't you try?"

"Trust me, please, I can't go out of your presence."

June could not practically hold it any longer. She said, "I'd rather you not listen!"

"Fuck!" Not able to put her fingers in her ears, Ginger put her hands over her ears.

For Ginger, this was the first time since she had reawakened that she had been alone with anyone but Brigitte, and it felt like a miracle. She did not see any hope of things getting better for her, but June's abilities gave Ginger a small hope for her sister.

June finished. She came out with a towel, and took her shirt off. That shirt had been over-sized on her. Momentarily fazed, Ginger saw June was "blessed."

Poor girl. How could someone so tiny make the boys keep their fucking hands off THOSE?

Sadly, Ginger thought, she couldn't.

June pretended not to be annoyed at Ginger's jaw-drop, but said, "Ginger, if you can turn back around."

"What the fuck? You think I'm bi?"

"No, but I'm shy. Turn- around."

Ginger obeyed. "Makes no fucking sense," she muttered.

"Thank you," said June. Who then removed her bra, patted herself dry, and put on a new bra and shirt.

"Okay, you can turn around again."

June continued, "First, I don't know if you'd find this good news, but you're a ghost."

"Fuckin', ayyyy!" said Ginger, in a sour manner, which made June almost chuckle. The purple pull-over shirt June had changed into was also over-sized.

She's trying to hide them- wisely.

"So, what am I, then?" asked June. "I can see the dead and other stuff, and that would be why I'm still seeing Bobby around here, even with all the meds."

"Who the fuck is Bobby?" asked Ginger.

"Another ghost," said June. "This place is very old and haunted, and I've been seeing him since I arrived. I thought he was just another psychotic symptom, too, but he didn't go away when the meds took effect. I must be a medium of some sort, but psychotic, too."

Like a figure skater who can't take off her skates, thought June.

June turned the shirt she took off inside out and laid it flat on the night stand, and put the bra on top of it. Ginger sat on the bed, and seemed to have no weight. June was glad Ginger was not continuing to gawk at her.

June wondered if her psychotic symptoms had merely taken up a different theme. In her prior break, the delusions and hallucinations did get to the point where she could not disbelieve them. The same thing could be happening here, despite all her efforts to test and find out. I really should talk to Dr. Loraine about this.

"Can you talk to my sister, please, and tell her you can see me?" asked Ginger.

"What is she, Ginger?"

Ginger paused, her face registered distress.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about," said June. "I'm thinking ghosts never hang around anything normal. Why does she scare the shit out of me? What am I looking at?"

"Brigitte is, well, really just a super person. You'd love her, she just picked up this problem . . ."

"This problem? Out there you called it 'the curse.'" said June. "Your hands are like hers, but you have fangs. So, did you have the problem, too? Is it genetic? Or like a family curse?"

"No, she sort of got it from me," said Ginger, shamefully. "She has been fighting against this for two years. And . . . she's begun to lose."

"And what is the problem, Ginger?"

"I'm afraid you won't believe it if I told you. I didn't believe it either."

"Ginger, I'm talking to a fucking ghost right now! I dare you to say something I can't believe."

"Werewolf," said Ginger.

That stopped June. Her face didn't register anything with Ginger who went on: "It sounds fuckin' retarded when I say it out loud. But it's no joke. I'm dead serious."

June sighed. "Well, I'll never dare one of my hallucinations to do anything again. Maybe Dr. Loraine will switch me to Seroquel or Thorazine tomorrow, or Prolixin . . ."

"No, no, please listen to me . . ." said Ginger, begging.

Finished talking to Ginger, June came back to the lounge right as dinner arrived. She stood at the door watching the tech handing out the trays from a tall cafeteria cart. Ginger still remained with her. The meals were personalized for each patient. "Lana . . . Suzanne . . ." called the tech. June hoped to have dinner with Brigitte while basically guarding her from others and vice-versa; she knew now what a danger Brigitte posed to everyone here.

The tech called Brigitte, and but immediately as Brigitte received her tray, June saw her posture tense. Not even removing the plastic dome on her food she yelled: "Fuckin' broth again?"

She threw her tray into the wall. Everybody in the lunchroom froze. Brigitte doubled over, and made a frightful growl. Maybe she doubled over to make it seem like her stomach growled, but to June, it sounded distinctly like an animal. Brigitte tensed, looking like her body both generated and restrained a furious tsunami. June's confused senses spun faster seeing it. "Fuck this! Fuck all of you. I'm waiting it out in my room!"

As she left, she yelled to Laura, who was by June: "Talk to the doctor? You stupid, lying bitch!"

Brigitte stormed past June who was happy to see her out of the crowd. She realized that Brigitte had also blown her cover. Nobody was going to believe she was tranquilized now. Though as Ginger had explained to June, that probably wouldn't matter anyway.