An Insane World – Chapter Ten
Tim stands when she walks into the waiting area, old-fashioned manners that catch him off guard now and again and it makes him think of his mother. The woman notices the courtesy. She smiles for Jesse then for Tim then walks past them and peers into Alex's office.
"Where's our boy?" she asks, directs the question at Jesse.
"Not sure, Dr. van. It's not like him to be late."
"No, it's not."
She plants her hands on her hips reminding Tim of Art. She turns her attention to him now, face inscrutable; he stares back, unblinking.
"I'm Dr. van Campen," she says, "but everyone here calls me Bridget. You are…?"
Jesse makes a move to answer for him; she stops him with a hand. Tim watches the exchange and wonders what she's expecting from him, or not expecting. It feels like a test but it doesn't bother him, he's just curious and mostly relieved that she doesn't hold out a hand for a handshake. He's sick of feeling embarrassed about the tremors.
He replies with his name. "Tim Gutterson."
"Well, hello Tim Gutterson," she says. "Please, sit. I'm blushing."
"I think, Dr. van, it'd take more than good manners to make you blush. A lot more. You watch yourself with her, Tim. She's whip-smart and nasty."
Bridget pouts. "That's not very nice. I'll make sure to say something very nasty on your employee review."
Tim can tell from the way Jesse is talking that he likes the doctor.
"Am I gonna have to rat you out to Frank about your porn downloads?"
She puts a finger against her mouth, shhh. "Do that and I'll tell everyone about your Little Pony collection."
"Oh, now, see? That's nasty."
"Shock and awe – that's how I play." She drops onto the couch beside Tim. "Would you stay and talk with me until Alex arrives? Don't listen to Jesse – I'm really a very nice person. And you, rapscallion," she says, points her finger and narrows her eyes at the nurse, "run along. I know your ward is short-staffed today. You probably have better things to do than babysit Mr. Gutterson and me." She's back looking at Tim. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No, ma'am."
Her face is happiness, a child's wonder. "I'll never get tired of hearing that. Can you say it again, exactly the same way?"
Tim cocks his head to one side, catches Jesse's eye and grin, and obliges her for his sake. "Yes, ma'am. 'No, ma'am.'"
She laughs, delighted, open. "I love it. Honestly, every woman in the world should live in the US for a while just to hear that."
Jesse rolls his eyes, says, "Good luck, man," and leaves them to it.
"Where are you from?" Tim asks.
"The Netherlands."
He nods. "You like it here?"
"I do. Kentucky is beautiful. Where are you from?"
"Uh, I moved around a bit – my dad was Air Force. We settled in Alabama when I was fourteen."
"I've never been to Alabama. Are they still there, your parents?"
Tim shakes his head. "Mom died five years ago – cancer." He swallows, twists his mouth, thinks about her again, that's twice in five minutes and more than he's given her this past year. She deserves better.
"Your dad?"
"They divorced when he was transferred to Texas from Maxwell. He died in a car accident a few years later."
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not."
She pulls her head back, surprised. "Bastard?"
"Complete."
"Abusive?"
"Are you taking Alex's sessions for him today?"
"I can't turn it off. I spend my whole day talking frankly to people about their family issues and other issues. I do it to my friends too."
"Got any friends left?"
She smiles, amused. "Of course, I should warn you, everything you say to me is going directly into Alex's ear as soon as we can find him." She whispers, "I'm wearing a wire. This is all being recorded." She leans around him then and peers down the hallway. "Should we start worrying about him?"
Tim grins, unsure what to make of her except that he likes her manner. He decides to experiment a little, see what makes it back to him. He's mostly bored all day and here's some fun to be had.
"I think Alex is a big boy. And yeah, my dad was abusive. His idea of discipline was more like Roman Army than US military – whipping, holding back rations, beatings."
"Decimation?"
"Not possible. I was an only child. Who would he have left to beat on?"
She grins despite the topic of conversation. "You know your history."
"It's an interesting subject, military history."
"It is." She's silent a moment. "Is that why you joined the military? Do you admire your dad in some way? Wish to live up to expectations?"
Alex must be talking to her, he thinks, files it away. How else would she know about his military past? "No. I did it 'cause I needed a job, and I enlisted and went Army. I was a grunt, a nothing Private when I finished Basic. He was an officer. I did it to piss him off, not make him proud."
"Was he pissed off?"
"He died before I finished. Never did get to enjoy it." Tim raises his eyebrows. "Not much of a victory."
"A bit like cutting off your nose to spite your face."
Tim frowns.
"What wasn't much of a victory?" Alex appears in the doorway.
"I'll never tell," says Bridget and winks at Tim. "What the hell happened to you, Dr. Sullivan? You're late."
She uses Tim's knee to help her stand up, pats Alex's cheek and waltzes out.
"A bit eccentric," says Tim.
"And that's just a surface inspection. Uh...sorry, I'm late. I, uh..."
Tim interrupts the excuse. "Don't worry about it. I was plenty entertained. And anyway, what else do I have to do?"
Andy covers his window and bathroom mirror in toothpaste so no one will be able to see him. The nurses take his toothpaste away, so instead he covers everything in shit.
Alex is looking through a file when he steps into the room, slips and falls flat on his back. His vision fades out for a second and then Andy's peering down at him, grinning like a buffoon or a shark. Alex can't tell which so he gets up in a hurry, swaying, blinking away the stars. His hand hovers over the panic button on his belt but Andy's backing off, moving back into the room and curling up on his mattress.
Alex rubs his sore tailbone and looks around, hoping fiercely that he didn't slip in a pile of crap. He searches the room, finds a gathering of plastic cups under the sink and behind the toilet, each cup holding a bar of soap dissolving in water, no doubt stolen from the custodial staff. It's soapy goo that's covering the whole floor. It's treacherous, but sort of funny too.
"Andy…what've you been up to?"
"Keeps the dogs out." He says it loudly, like he's stating the obvious to an idiot.
"The locks on the doors keep the dogs out, Andy. You don't need to do this." Alex collects up the cups, walking carefully, and goes to find someone with a mop and bucket.
It's lunchtime when he's finished sorting out Andy, so Alex runs home to change his pants. He gets stuck in his apartment for a while fretting over the mess and the laundry that's piled up and leaves himself no time to eat. He spends the afternoon in an increasing and agitating state of hunger.
Sophia is back to not moving or talking at all. She stares right through him and it makes him feel empty – like a part of the room. He thinks it might drive him crazy given enough time. He brings her soup though it's pointless and talks to her though she never says anything back.
He bumps into Martha on his way to check in on Andy. She's carrying an apple and a cup of coffee and she has a way of smiling that stops you in your tracks, warms you right up.
"You look pale," she tells him, matter-of-fact.
"I'm just hungry, I guess. I, uh…missed lunch."
She gives him a stern look, tut-tuts, motherly, then says, "How's Tim doing – Tim Gutterson, our young veteran?"
Alex thinks about it, scratches his head and frowns. "He's doing okay. Why do you ask?"
"I don't know. There's something about that kid. He just got to me. Reminds me of someone."
"Yeah? Who? He's…" He stops as Martha's expression changes suddenly, catching something going on behind Alex's back.
She plants her hands on her hips, still holding a coffee and an apple, a rare skill, calls loudly, "Jackson Malloy, you put your clothes back on!"
Alex turns around, coughs into his elbow to cover up the laugh that escapes. Jackson is strolling down the corridor in the nude, a massive hard-on swinging back and forth, head held up high. He gestures wildly at Martha.
"And why would I do that?"
"Because I said so! Now, go on, put your pants on."
"You ain't the boss of me, Martha! You ain't the boss of this here hallway. I can do as I damn well please."
She looks back at Alex who's fighting to keep a straight face, hands him her apple and gives him a pat on the arm. "Here, you look hungrier than I feel at the moment."
"Um, thanks." He nods toward Jackson who's continuing his leisurely stroll down the corridor. "You got this?"
"Yes, I've got this. Now, go on. Go eat something."
He takes the stairs down to the vending machines, pockets a Snickers bar and goes back up to the open ward. Tim's door is the only one that isn't closed. He's sitting on the bed reading. Alex knocks and invites himself in.
"Hey."
"Doc. You look different without your office."
The sarcasm hides his nervousness at the intrusion – Alex can see it in the rapid rise and fall of Tim's chest. He turns to the window to give Tim a chance to compose himself.
"You've got a good view. I can see my car from here. Mind if I sit?"
Tim shrugs, says, "A mid-blue 2010 Ford Taurus is not a view," and goes back to his book.
Alex feels a little threatened that Tim knows what car he drives until he remembers that Tim is in law enforcement in the real world and would notice something like that, a reflex. It gives him pause, though. He takes a seat eventually, winces at the stab of pain that shoots up his back when his butt touches and thinks 'coccyx' is an irritating little word for an irritating part of the body. He spells it out in his head; it takes him back to anatomy class in college when everything was still a promise.
He gets a raised eyebrow from Tim when he toes his boots off, ignores it, balances the apple on his knee and starts to unwrap his candy bar. He grins, absurdly pleased, when he sees what Tim's reading.
"Tao Te Ching, huh?"
"It's kinda preachy."
"Yeah, I suppose it is." He looks up to the ceiling, looking for words. "Uh…throw away holiness and wisdom and people will be a hundred times happier, right?"
Tim shakes his head, disagreeing. He closes the book and says, "Throw away morality and justice, and people will do the right thing." He makes a face. "'Course I'd be out of a job."
"See, it's sticking. I knew Jesse had terrible taste in literature." Alex chews for a while, feeling a bit less like he's looking up at the world from the bottom of a well. "Hey, I saw this thing last night. It was a reality TV show. I don't remember what it was called – something to do with law enforcement, I guess. Anyway, the guys were all US Marshals like you and they all kept stashes of candy and nuts and stuff in their cars. Do you really do that – spend a lot of time in a car?"
"Is this some kind of new therapy technique you're trying out?"
"No. This is my lunch break."
"Your lunch break? What time is it?"
"Just after four."
"Uh-huh. I've had quite a few lunches like that on the job. Maybe you should adopt some Marshal habits, stuff your pockets with candy and nuts and stuff."
"So you do stash crap in your car?"
Tim replies, serious, "Uh-uh, not crap. I pack cheese strings and apples and whiskey. But I'll eat just about anything, especially if it's lunch at four."
"Whiskey?"
Tim shrugs. "Or beer. Depends on the day, the temperature outside."
Alex pauses, gapes.
"Jesus, Alex, I'm kidding. After-hours only with the booze. You ever try making a 600-yard shot drunk?" Tim smirks. "I'm serious about the cheese strings though."
"Cheese strings. Healthier than Snickers, I guess."
"Yeah, just a bit."
"Um, I should probably get back to work."
"Probably."
Alex gets up and tosses the wrapper from the candy bar in the garbage bin on his way out the door.
Tim clears his throat, gives Alex a pointed look.
"What?"
"Dude, your shoes… Laces, remember?"
Alex chuckles and goes back to collect his boots, doesn't bother to put them on.
"Fucking hippie."
"Stay at the center of the circle, Tim."
Tim flips him the finger.
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