Be My Saving Grace, page 2
Nickolas coughs, pushing back any memories or emotions that were threatening to come to the surface.
‘You probably saw the family waiting when you arrived – this room will be for their daughter who they’re admitting today.’
Nickolas nods, remembering the anxious parents pacing the waiting room.
‘Anyway, as you know, Jasmine won’t be in for the rest of the day, and Eric has called in sick, so I’m going to need you to work the night shift tonight too.’
‘You’re aware I’m scheduled to work the day shift tomorrow, right?’
‘If all is quiet, take a nap in the break room. Sam will be working, as always, and Lydia can do most of the work. We just need the extra staff member on hand.’
‘You know, if anyone else had asked I would have told them to fu—’ He stops himself from swearing. He can’t, not in front of Dot. It just doesn’t seem right.
‘I know, honey. That’s why I made sure to ask you and not have the others do it.’
Nickolas shakes his head as he leaves. In the common room, a couple of patients are painting near the window, some are playing ping pong while a few others are enjoying reruns of the Looney Tunes on the TV. He knows Brett must have been the one to choose the channel after Nickolas had heard him make a comment in the break room about how Looney Tunes was fitting for a bunch of looney patients. As if he has summoned the devil with his thoughts, Brett walks in from the dining room and makes his way over to the patients painting trees that they can see outside. He gives Nickolas a nod of recognition rather than an actual hello.
‘Wow.’ Brett’s tone sounds shocked more than amazed. ‘No wonder you’re in here. If that’s what you think a tree looks like you must be crazy.’
Nickolas clenches his fists, pushing the anger down. Words are more powerful, that’s what she always told him. He walks up to Brett and decides to give this ‘using your words’ thing a go, even if his fists are itching to feel blood against his knuckles.
‘Brett. You really think that’s appropriate to say to our patients?’
Brett crosses his arms and looks towards Nickolas, standing tall to try and use it to intimidate him.
‘You got a problem with how I do things around here, Nickolas?’
‘These people, kids, they came here for help.’
‘Some of them are long past help. Isn’t that right, Hyde, or is it Jekyll?’
Brett uncrosses his arms and gives Ethan a pat on the back while he chuckles at his own inappropriate joke. The force from the pat pushes Ethan forward in his chair. Ethan is a patient who was diagnosed with DID, otherwise known as dissociative identity disorder or split personality disorder. He is currently medicated to the point where the room most likely looks like a spinning world of butterflies and rainbows. Ethan’s head falls down, his chin now resting against his chest.
As Brett takes a step towards Nickolas, his smile drops along with his voice. ‘ You know, Nickolas. If you can’t handle the way things are done around here, maybe you aren’t cut out for this job. We’re not here to be their friends and not everyone can be saved. You’d know that better than anyone.’ Brett pushes past Nickolas and nudges his shoulder as he walks away.
‘Okay. Who’s ready for lunch?’ Brett begins to usher people into the dining area. Nickolas pulls himself together and begins to help those that need it to stand and walk towards a table to eat.
*
Nickolas takes the patients that aren’t involved in the group therapy session back to their rooms. The others take a seat in the common room. The therapists believe the group sessions work better in an environment they are all comfortable sharing with one another, leaving the offices strictly for one-on-one sessions. Besides its location, that’s all Nickolas knows about what goes on in those sessions. His job as an orderly is to assist the patients. That means he delivers the medication that the therapists prescribe and the doctors administer. He watches over them to make sure they are comfortable and not causing harm to themselves or those around them, which also means during their scheduled shower times, and hourly checks during the night. He helps them from one room to another if their medication is making them drowsy or if they are too weak to support themselves, along with chaperoning them to the therapists’ office when they have a one-on-one appointment. In no way does his job impact the treatment these patients are receiving, but to these patients, he is a familiar face – a person that can make it seem not so lonely in a world that has them cut off from everything and sometimes everyone. Some of these patients never have family visit them, only coming to collect them when treatment is complete. Others are lucky to have the regular weekly visit that is scheduled every Sunday between 2 and 4 p.m.
He always works on Sundays. He likes to be there for the patients who aren’t lucky enough to be graced with a visitor who checks in and reminds them that people care about their progress and treatment or ask how they are doing in the facility. Sundays are when he feels as though he is helping the most. The days he sees some of the patients smile for the first time or talk outside of their therapy sessions. It’s the day that Dot doesn’t ask Nickolas to help with stripping the beds or handling the intake of a new patient because she knows the two hours of interaction Nickolas can share with the patients is helping them just as much as it’s helping him.
The day is easy, calm. But a good day today could mean hell tomorrow. The mind is the most unpredictable part of the human body, and it has control over everything a person does and feels. Nickolas watches wheel of fortune with Riley and Cora, calling out the wrong answers even when he knows what the right answer is. They get more entertainment from his guesses than they do from actually solving the puzzle and, for a moment, as he laughs along with them both, he doesn’t feel so numb inside.
He goes to everyone’s room and strips the beds, replacing them with new sheets, and then returns the bin of dirty linen to the laundry room to be dealt with by the cleaning staff. He wheels out a trolley of books for those that wish to grab one to read or swap over the one they have finished.
After the dinner rush, Nickolas watches over the male patients while they have their allocated time in the communal showers. His eyes never wander. He looks past their naked forms. People in this world already prey on those in need. The stories he has heard from patients that have walked through these doors make him sick to his stomach. This place is meant to be a safe space for them. A place to heal. They change into fresh sweatpants, slippers, and a green t-shirt, and he escorts them to their rooms to settle in before lights out.
*
Nickolas is at the front desk when Darren walks through the corridor and stands at the threshold.
‘I’m done. I swear the afternoon shift feels like it drags on for-ev-er,’ says Darren.
Nickolas rolls his eyes at the way Darren drags out the word ‘forever’. He turns around and suddenly wishes he hadn’t. Darren has changed out of his purple uniform and into white skinny leg jeans and a floral pink-and-blue t-shirt.
The colour of the shirt hurts Nickolas’s eyes, and with jeans that tight, someone needs to tell Darren he doesn’t have any assets worth showing off.
Nickolas doesn’t respond. He continues to check off the names in the binder against the cups of medication on the cart beside him, making sure each patient is accounted for.
‘Jesus, Darren. That a woman’s shirt?’ Brett walks around the corner, looking more relieved than ever to be finished with his shift.
‘No, Brett. It’s called fashion. You should try it sometime,’ Darren says, sing-song.
‘No thanks. Don’t need no queer sniffing around my arse.’
Nickolas claps the binder shut. ‘Hey, fuckface. Even if you were begging for it, no guy would go anywhere near your arse, or that pin-dick of yours. So why don’t you scurry off home and jerk off while crying because your hand is the only action you’ll be seeing anytime soon.’
Brett pushes past Darren toward Nickolas, both their chests out like two alphas ready to fight for their pack. Nickolas ignores the small laugh that escapes Darren’s lips, assumedly at the way Brett opens his mouth with a comeback but fails to deliver. The automatic doors slide open, and Sam walks through to start his night shift.
‘Everything alright here, boys?’
Sam is like the wise old owl. He’s been working at the ward as long as Dot and has enough stories to make someone question the practice of medicine. Although he doesn’t have his youth, he still has enough authority to make Nickolas and Brett step down and slowly walk away.
‘Yeah. Brett here was just leaving.’ Nickolas presses the button to release the lock on the door, allowing Brett to walk out and Sam to walk in.
Darren takes the door so it doesn’t close behind Sam, and turns towards Nickolas. ‘The day you two finally fight it out, I’m going to need a cold shower.’
Nickolas quickly scans the room to make sure no one is around and then gives Darren the finger as he exits.
Darren laughs.
Nickolas doesn’t watch him leave even though he knows Darren wants him to.
He waits for Sam to change and come back to the desk before he sets off with the medication. The patients have an hour left to relax in their rooms. The automatic doors open, and Nickolas raises his eyebrows as Lydia rushes in, quickly tying her hair up into a bun.
‘I know, I know. I was studying and then I fell asleep and if it wasn’t for my mum calling me to remind me about our lunch date tomorrow then I would totally have slept through, but I’m here and—’ She catches her breath. ‘You’re not Sam.’
‘No shit. Was it the lack of grey hair that set you off or the knuckle tattoos? I keep telling Sam it’s never too late to get some ink.’ Nickolas buzzers her in. ‘Him and Dorothy are out back. If you hurry, I’ll just say you were here and in the bathroom or some shit.’
‘Thank you. I owe you.’ Lydia makes a dash toward the bathrooms to change instead of in the locker rooms.
‘I saw that, Nykolai. Like I said, angel.’
Nickolas groans as Dot uses his full name.
‘Isn’t it past your bedtime?’ Nickolas teases.
‘That it is. But I just wanted to make sure you were sorted for the night before I left.’
‘Dot, this isn’t my first night shift, or my first triple.’
‘I know. But today was meant to be your day off so—’
‘JESSICA, NO! PLEASE! DON’T MAKE ME STAY HERE, PLEASE!’
Dot and Nickolas turn towards the automatic doors as a woman a little older than him holding the wrist of a kid who has seen better days ushers through. Nickolas takes in the way the kid’s clothes are hanging off his body, which to anyone else may be mistaken for the wrong size, but Nickolas can spot signs of a malnourished body the way a trained dog can sniff out drugs. The kid’s eyes are dark around the outside, his cheekbones are slightly hollow, his waist narrow, and his pants are barely holding up.
‘Finn. I promise, everything will be okay.’ Jessica tries to speak calmly.
‘No. I’ll go back on my meds. I’ll, I’ll – just please don’t leave me here.’
Another guy comes running in with a bag, looking the same age as Nickolas, with slightly wavy brown hair; neither of them matching the deep fiery red hair Finn has. If it wasn’t for the heated commotion, Nickolas would have smiled at the way this guy’s hair reminded him of Socks’s ginger fur.
‘JAKE! JAKE! You tell her. Tell her I’ll get better. I’ll be better,’ Finn begs the guy standing beside him.
‘Finn. It’s okay. This is for your own good,’ Jake reassures him.
Finn curls into himself, trying to turn his body into dead weight as Jake tries to bring him closer towards the front desk. Jessica moves away from the two men and walks towards Nickolas and Dorothy.
‘Hi. Jessica Cunningham. I called earlier.’
Nickolas has no idea what she is talking about. To his right – Jake, was it? – is whispering into Finn’s ear. Finn’s body relaxes, nodding along to what is being said to him as tears stream down his face.
‘Jessica, yes. Sorry, we expected you earlier.’ Dot takes some paperwork out and puts it on a clipboard before passing it to Jessica through the gap at the bottom of the glass divider.
‘I know, sorry. We had some… delays.’
‘I understand. Is this your brother?’
‘Yes.’ Jessica turns back and looks over her shoulder. She’s holding back tears, trying to stay strong while her brother breaks down in the middle of the room. The question is, are those tears for Finn or herself? It’s never easy admitting a loved one, even if it’s for their own safety. He would know.
Finn willingly walks towards the desk, his steps slow and calculated. His hands are shaking so he clasps them in front of his body, hoping it will steady them. Finn stands beside his sister while Jake puts an arm around his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. Dot takes the paperwork back from Jessica and gives it a quick glance before passing it over to Nickolas.
‘Do you know what medication he was prescribed?’ Dot politely asks.
‘Yes. But he hasn’t been on them for the last six months.’ Jessica retrieves a piece of paper from her handbag and slips it through the gap. Nickolas waits as Dot reads over the list, then passes it to him to attach to Finn’s paperwork.
‘It may all change. Tomorrow during his evaluation, the therapist and doctor will decide how they’d like to proceed.’
Nickolas assesses Finn’s paperwork and reads over his diagnoses. Bipolar disorder. Checking Finn’s date of birth, the kid is barely eighteen years old. Nickolas’s heart drops at the thought of this poor kid being diagnosed at seventeen with a mental disorder that can make a person feel like everything they once knew about themselves is a lie.
‘Finn Cunningham,’ Dot addresses Finn directly.
Nickolas raises his head as Finn lifts his. Although Finn is looking toward Dot, his eyes still don’t meet hers.
‘As you are eighteen years of age, your family cannot admit you against your will.’
Finn’s eyes connect with Dot’s, hope flashing across his face until he sees that Jessica and Jake are still looking at him with sadness in their eyes.
‘However, your sister here has acquired a certificate for emergency admission, signed by the doctor that diagnosed you with bipolar disorder. This means that you’ll—’
‘Wait! Is that why you took me to the clinic today? Not to get my meds but to get me analysed so you can lock me up! Hand me over to someone else so I’m no longer your problem!’ Finn’s sadness slips away as anger reaches the surface. Mood swings: a common trait with BP and one that is more prominent when unmedicated.
‘Finn, listen to me—’ Jessica tries to reason with her brother.
‘All I’ve ever done is listen to you. But when have you ever listened to me? Listened to my needs.’
Nickolas presses the buzzer to open the door, preparing to step in if Finn’s anger turns aggressive. He walks around the front desk as Finn makes a lunge at his sister and pushes Jessica up against the wall. She doesn’t look scared, just shocked. Jake tries to talk Finn down, talk some reason into him, but it’s useless. Nickolas gets behind Finn and grabs his arms. The sudden contact has Finn resisting, not wanting to be touched or pulled away from the threat he sees before him. Locking Finn’s arms behind his back, Nickolas slowly walks Finn away, putting space between him and Jessica.
‘Hey, calm down,’ Nickolas warns him.
‘Get off me. Don’t touch me.’
‘I don’t want to hurt you. It’s okay. I’m here to help.’ Nickolas keeps his voice calm, soft.
‘Fuck off! You’re lying. No one ever wants to help. You just want to get rid of me.’
Finn’s eyes meet Jessica’s with his last statement.
‘Nickolas, take him to room thirteen – it’s ready,’ Dorothy instructs.
‘Wait, but that’s—’
‘I know. It’s all we have available.’
The buzzer goes off, opening the door within the mesh fence. Nickolas takes a deep breath and begins to walk backwards. He grips Finn tighter as Finn drags his feet, preventing himself from being escorted down the corridor to the rooms filled with patients that could no doubt hear the desperate cries of protests escaping Finn’s mouth. As difficult as it is, Nickolas uses his strength to overpower Finn. Generally, when a patient is this worked up and resisting, an orderly would inject them with a sedative. Personally, Nickolas likes to keep that option as a last resort, hoping he can help calm the patients down through talk and reasoning. Unfortunately, it doesn’t always work that way.
‘Get your fucking hands off me. That’s all you arseholes want to do, touch me. Let me go!’
Nickolas reaches the room and is thankful that the door is open for him. He takes a deep breath in and presses his chest to Finn’s back, using the grip on Finn’s arms to lift him slightly off the floor and through the threshold. Nickolas makes a note of how easy Finn is to lift and considering Finn is at least half a foot taller than him, it should not be that simple. The bed is in the middle of the room and Nickolas can see the restraints attached to the small metal frame. Dorothy must have set them up after Jessica had called through, not sure what state Finn would be arriving in.
‘Finn. You need to calm down. I’d rather do this the easy way than the hard way and the only person that decides which way this goes is you.’ Nickolas stays calm. Although the fight in Finn is frustrating, he knows tone is important, and getting himself worked up just as much as Finn will benefit no one.
‘You’re just like the rest of them. You don’t want to help me.’
Finn throws his head back and knocks Nickolas in the nose. The force throws Nickolas off balance, but thankfully he doesn’t feel any blood dripping down his mouth. All hope of calming him down with words is lost, force now being Nickolas’s only option. He pushes forward, connecting Finn’s legs to the side of the bed. With his right leg, he presses against the back of Finn’s knees, causing them to naturally buckle forward. Finn’s chest falls onto the mattress.
