Mid-fucking-day. It's midday and there's no sign of food in the horizon. I swear on Grandma Dolores's grave that I am about to pass out from lack of nourishment. Poor Mr. Tummy is crying out to me and my lips are chapping in dire need of H2O. I'm jittery all over – been pacing the entire perimeter of my cell.
"Soto, I'm your room attendee, Nancy. Stay still and face the window because I will be entering the room shortly," announces my prettylil' ginger.
Rolling my eyes, "What, am I a menace to society now?"
"Do as I say," commands the nurse in a fiercer tone and I oblige without further discussion. The lock rotates and her footsteps sneak up behind me. Her hands begin to pat me down.
"What in the…?" I blurt, squirming away from her touch, "Fuck you trying to do?"
Sighing, she replies, "Hospital is looking into joint lunch between patients on this floor. Calm yourself, I have to check for anything before Chuck arrives and escorts you to the cafeteria."
Sinking to my knees, I outstretch my arms skyward, "Praise the Lord!" I wipe my eyes as though I might actually shed a tear: desperation.
Sometime between my praising of the Lord and attempting to humor my pokerfaced nurse, Chuck arrives. This ward has really cracked down on the rules since my previous stay, half a decade ago. These people know how to make a patient feel like a death row jail mate.
Writing me off, Nance shoos me off as she nonchalantly throws herself onto my bare bed and pulls up an Us Weekly magazine out of her scrubs.
Scrambling off the floor, I quickly dust myself off and head towards the door. Something tells me that this is a twisted trick they do to amuse themselves. I am halfway out the door before it hits me. The only thing saving my grace is a wafer thin hospital issued smock. Say what you will, I'm a whore that has a sense of self-preservation, "This isn't what I'm being sent out in, right?"
The guard clad in white shrugs and continues to tap his foot. Slipping my head into my room, I glimpse in on my attendee engrossed in her magazine as her foot dances away. Clearing my throat, she side glances my way, "What'dya want, Soto?"
"Clothes that cover my ass."
She licks her index finger, flips the page, and candidly replies, "Can't. Against hospital protocol…" closing my eyes in despair, I mentally finish the sentence for her: those on the Psyche floor aren't allowed items that can, potentially, be used against themselves or others.
Even so, I choose to whine, "Pity me, Nance!"
Never leaving her weekly issue, "Already do," her finger slides across the glossy page as she mouths words, "Can you just cross that bridge? This is my break and quite frankly, I've got better things to worry about."
That, that sets me the hell off, "And I'm here because this obviously is a five star hotel!" I reenter the room, "All you gotta do is be fucking pleasant and spare me five minutes and get a robe or something!" usually there'd be some throwing off shit but the room is barren, "Get off your damn ass, puta!" as I inch closer, clenching and unclenching my fists, I notice that the nurse has already secured a grip on her handy-dandy walkie-talkie. This usually, always, calls for body numbing sedatives. I've learned the hard way, "Okay, okay…easy, girl, easy…" I throw up my hands in defeat, "I give up; white flag."
"Give up the clown act," her lily pad green eyes return to her issue and a finger lifts up to beckon Chuck and I'm ushered out, dejectedly.
ΔΔΔΔ
If there's ever an acceptable reason to be afraid of women it should be because they're lunatics. Not just any type of lunacy- legitimately crazy. I say this because upon entering the cafeteria for lunch, my first encounter with said women occurs.
The guard I've come to know as Chuck releases me into the general population and I bee line my butt to the lunch line where I'm smashed between two butches and handed a beat-up tray. Minding my business, I just float through the line overhearing unintelligible conversations here and there until I happen upon a certain one that seemed, by my judgment, to be escalating. It does. Two women start off with simple shoves and end up brawling it out. It leads to a prison-like riot and the guards struggle to maneuver around the chaos.
Hiding behind where the servers are, I peek out to see if I can get a glimpse of Chuck as the commotion is going on. It feels like I'm in combat or some shit. A hand snatches my arm and I shriek alarmed to find that it's the man I was looking for. He puts a finger to his lips and throws me over his shoulder like a ragdoll and carries me to safety.
Breathing heavily, as this ride is giving me motion sickness, I look around to see that we're passing other captive's cells and I immediately feel naked as I forgot the round trip would include passing through the men's psych wards. My hands fly to the back of my hospital issued garment that's flayed open in the back. I scour around and see beady eyes all around, "Was this really the only route back to my holding cell?"
Mark disregards me as he shouts at one of the guys. What's up with these people ignoring you? I shrink back in as the men start peeping out their holes. It's not an exaggeration when I say that hospitals are a fuck lot like prison.
"Hey girly, give Daddy a twirl!" calls out a man from one of the rooms which sparks a choir of cat-calls and wolf-whistles.
"Just a sneak peek!" shouts another.
"Chuck get me the fuck out of here!" I whisper loudly.
Off we are, passing by the Nurse's Station where one of those pink scrub-wearing, dimwits lets both Chuck and I know that my bitch nurse has been expecting me. Chuck stomps all the way to my room and deposits me before checking in with Nance and promptly takes his leave.
Ignoring all of the ginger's nonsense, I splay myself on the bed and stare up at the ceiling and bask in the setting sun. There's nothing to do, other than watch the TV. There's a reason why people lose their marbles in this shitbag.
"Soto, you've got visitors…" announces my attendee.
I angle my head, surprised that she's still here, "If this is your way of getting a sick thrill…you're a sick fucking bitch."
An itty-bitty gasps escapes, "Auntie Marley, rememba', no bad words!"
My body stills, pupils dilate, and tears rise. In a heartbeat, I'm up and over the mattress trying to fly across to the only tiny human who calls me that. My ass topples over my own to legs in my mad dash but I don't care. I am at eye-level with my Dominick. Before I know what overcomes me, my arms trap the child and I am sobbing like an idiot. Seeing him, even if it's been less than a day, relieves me. It hits me like mud bricks, I am really fucking lonely.
"Auntie, you're crushin' me!" he giggles.
Sniffling and giggling, "I…I am sorry, papi. I just…just missed you so much."
Recognizing my reddened eyes and streaming tears, his perky demeanor tones down to serious, "Don't cry, Auntie," his puny fingers dab away my tears. My insides mush up – the kid's oblivious to the fact that his ever loved "Auntie" is nothing but a two cent hooker.
"I know, I know…" I shake myself, "How'd you wake up this morning, mi cielo?"
Tapping his chin, "It was terrible!" he throws up his hands to emphasize.
Furrowing my brows, "Why's that?"
"Mommy," Micks pokes her head in as if he'd called her, "cried and cried and cried. Worse of all, she wouldn't tell me where you were!" he crosses his arms, clearly disgruntled, "Why are you here 'stead of with Mommy and me?"
From my point of view, the Brooks sibling strikes me as restless, cryptic almost. Her eyes give the impression that she's been crying endlessly. Her arms carry a stack of notebooks – bad, bad, bad for the kid and her back. I glare at her and return to Dom's somber eyes, "Believe me, Corazon, I'd love to be with you back at the house. Right now though, I need help," I shoot Micks another dirty stare, "I have to be here for some time.
"Are you sick?" he questions, wide-eyed.
Shaking my head incessantly, "No, no, no…It's just a grown-up thing."
Dominick embraces me tightly, slightly knocking my balance, "Please get better. I need your help with my wishlist, Auntie."
Shit. How could I have forgotten? Christmas is just around the corner. How could you forget, Mar? That money you've earned has all flowed into the bills? How am I going to fork up enough money to buy the kiddo a decent stack of presents – he deserves them, "Don…don't worry. I'll be out before you know it," I look over at the blonde at the door who looks anxious, "Give me a hug, cielo. I have to talk to your mommy," he squeezes me once more, "Now, walk over to the where all the pretty nurses are and ask them question…they might give you a sticker."
"Really?" he asks sparked up and I nod, "Cool! Bye Auntie, get better soon!" he scats out the door.
Lifting off my knees, I stroll over to the door and motion for my best friend to enter before I close the door. I exhale and ask, "What'dya want? I know you didn't cab it all the way here to please Dom."
Sauntering over to the giant window, I look out into the city. It hit me that I am being held captive at Silver Cross…a somewhat shitty hospital in Illinois. No matter how shitty, the bill will be worse.
"Please don't be mad," she says trying to touch me but I reject her, "You need help, Marleene! I did what I thought was best," she goes on but realizes that I'm not having any of it, "How…how can you cut yourself to shreds when my kid is in the house? Don't you at least give a shit about him?"
"I do. That's why I do what I do."
She splutters, "You…you're putting wood in the fire by degrading yourself like that!" her breathing is labored. I can count every single one. It's ticking me off.
"Tell me," I spin around, "Enlighten me, sweetie. How far can I go on a fucking high school diploma? There's nothing that's open for me!" I point to myself, "I don't have a support system. The whole household is supported by me."
"Not once have I asked you to do that for me!" she shouts, bittersweet tears dripping onto her tummy as my anger fires up.
"Are you fucking kidding me now?" a cynical chuckle escapes my mouth, I'm so infuriated it's funny, "Who's gonna put food on the table, pay the bills? You going to bum around 'till Ace magically appears?" I take a minute to breathe clean air into my lungs, "Stop being so naïve, open your damn eyes!" I stretch out my own, "Ace…he can't have you on his mind. He can't worry. He's in a war zone!" my body, mouth included, is trembling, "After Noah…after he…this?" My hands dig into my hair, "Be very fucking ashamed. I myself am ashamed. My body has been overrun by grimy, slimy hands – it's a piece of money making meat! Wha…what would my father say?" my voice become an airy shriek, "Mackenzie, did you think this fucking stay was going to be a freebie? You might be covered on all side but me? You don't think. That's just it…no piensas!"
The lone sound of panting sounding like there's been crazy sex fills the room. I'm above livid – probably on my way into the waters of unconsciousness. The baby incubator silently cries. There's silence, uncomfortable, silence."
"I am sorry," she mutters. I make an attempt to interrupt her but her hand silences me, "Don't," she drops the notebooks onto my bed, some spill over, "For your entertainment. Get better."
Micks trudges out the door, leaving it open. With objects actually in the room, I throw them every which way. It's like whatever. Fuck that bullshit. Fuck the rain that has drizzled in. Fuck everything.
Snatching a notebook marked as '98, I test my luck and set an unaccompanied foot outside the door and snake my way down the hall. As luck'll have it, the Nurse's Station blocks my destination. Feeling a bit badass, I saunter by them, hearing gasps along the way, "I'm in the brig for attempted suicide. Unbunch your panties," with that I drift into the Family Waiting Room and sit down.
Let's see what you wrote! Licking a finger I flip the notebook open and start deciphering my old sloppy handwriting: memories.
ΔΔΔΔ
June 17th, 1998…
They say, "With a dark night comes a brighter day." Where is it? I don't see one coming anytime soon.
It's been a fucking week since I discovered Fannie is that fucking bathroom. Following arriving at the hospital, she was pronounced dead. Cutting the carotid artery causes sudden death. Uncle Vidal, Caro, and Pops had driven in. All looked like they'd hastily upped outta bed and gotten into the car. It was devastating to witness the moment that the doc told them of Fan's death.
Today was her funeral. An exact week after so Pops could afford the wake and everything in between. It was an open casket. She looks absolutely pale. As I walked by, I could still imagine the blood the oozed from her. Never had I seen Pops break like he did. I had to cover Caro, she's too innocent. He damned me as he was escorted out by Uncle.
Friends along with almost the entire school population lit candles as her casket was lowered. The most hypocritical was that even after her death, parties kept coming.
Estella, my mother, made an appearance. I threw her out. She kept protesting about how Fannie was her "baby" and such. I had none of it. None. It'll probably be the last time I ever see that lady alive: skin, bones, and tracks.
Diane Muller. That bitch has a red X marked on her back. She's the one I'm after. That she-devil fucked everything up. If not for her, Fannie would be alive. Dad wouldn't shame me. Caro wouldn't be a selective mute. Nobody would give me funky stares every time I can around.
If I'd been quicker. If.
Everybody tries to console me. It's of no use. Micks tries to pull shit out of me and Elle tries to shoplift things for me hoping that materialistic things will comfort me. Punk is out of the picture. He hasn't called. Mike tries to fuck me into oblivion. People supply me with booze and drugs. Razors cut up my arms…nothing works.
I've gotta go. There's a Fannie memorial party and there's a Jimmy with my name written all over it waiting.
-Marleene
A/N- What? Did you guys catch that? Keep the love coming in! These notebooks will keep our Marleene sane!