Asylum (16 page)

            Sam
had warned her not to call, had told her not to look desperate.  Men don’t want
to be chased, she advised.  She needn’t have bothered.  As if Chloe would be
able to call and chat him up!  She did find that in the quiet afternoon time,
between waking up and going out drinking, that she listened for his voice in
the hallway.  If anyone at the Eat mentioned him, even in passing, her ears
perked up.  She even made it a point to butter-up May, the waitress.  On
Saturday night, she had left more than a twenty percent tip with a note written
on a drink napkin that read: “Thank-you for providing wonderful service, you’re
the best!”

            And
now it was Monday again, and Seth hadn’t dropped in or called or anything. 
What did that mean?  Had she blown it? Around her, she could hear a growing
restlessness.  It must be getting close to the end of the period.  Students
were rustling papers, straightening up, causing the folding seats to creak,
zippering their bags.  It would become louder and more noticeable until it
reached a point where the majority of the class had all of their books and
papers put away, and were sitting on the edge of their seats, gripping their
bags, ready to spring up.

            “CHLOE
ADAMS AND SAMANTHA KLINGEMAN!” Dr. Willard’s voice shocked Chloe fully awake.  She
jumped in her seat, her eyes popping open.  Down below, at the front of the
classroom, Dr. Willard seemed to be looking around, waiting for someone to
raise their hand.  Did she hear correctly?  Had he called out for her and Sam? 
Sam continued to snooze in oblivion beside her.

            “IS
THERE A CHLOE ADAMS OR A SAMANTHA KLINGEMAN HERE TODAY?” Dr. Willard repeated.

            Chloe
jabbed an elbow into Sam’s arm, upsetting Sam’s precarious balance and jolting
her awake.

            “HERE!”
Chloe called, waving her arm.  “Raise your hand,” she hissed at Sam between her
teeth.  Sam raised her arm sleepily.

            “I
need you both to stay a few minutes after class,” Dr. Willard informed them. 
Heads swiveled to glance at them, a few threw them knowing smirks.

            Chloe
wished in vain that she had been paying attention.  She couldn’t imagine what
he wanted, but it made her uneasy.  It could be that he noticed their papers
had been too similar.

            After
writing down their assigned reading for the next class, he dismissed them.  Sam
and Chloe stayed in their seats while the other students jammed the main aisle,
waiting for their chance to get out the doors.

            “What’s
going on?  We in trouble or something?” Sam asked groggily.

            “I
don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention,” Chloe admitted.

            As
the last of the students filed slowly out of the room, Chloe and Sam shouldered
their backpacks and shuffled down to the front, where Dr. Willard was
reordering his lecture notes.  He did not look up as they approached.  Sam
cleared her throat to get his attention.

            “Ahhh…Miss.
Adams and Miss Klingeman!” His quick, tight smile was all business.  Chloe
tried to look anywhere but at his moustache.  “I wanted to talk to you both
about a very special opportunity I only offer to two students every semester. 
Do you have to be anywhere right away?” he asked.

            Chloe
shook her head, Sam shrugged noncommittally.

            “Very
good, very good.  Why don’t you follow me then?  My office is upstairs.”  He
zipped his notes into a leather case, and walked quickly away.  Sam and Chloe
made eye contact and fell into step behind him.

            “In
case you’re wondering how you were selected,” Dr. Willard called over his
shoulder, “it was your papers, the ones I had the class write last week on why
you are studying psychology.  The kind of opportunity I’m offering requires
students of a particular mindset, and a real passion for their future careers. 
I must say, I was quite impressed with both of your essays.”

            Behind
Dr. Willard’s back, Sam glared murderously at Chloe and sucker-punched her
shoulder.  Chloe flinched and threw her hands up, silently mouthing the word,
what?
 
Sam jabbed a finger in Chloe’s direction and then drew the finger across her
neck.  The implication was easy to understand… “this is all
your
fault,
I’m going to kill you!” Chloe rolled her eyes and hurried to keep pace with Dr.
Willard.  He had already reached the elevators at the end of the hallway.

            “I
don’t suppose either of you are familiar with the history of psychology, the
evolution of treatment for those with various mental conditions through the
years?” Dr. Willard asked.

            “Sure,
like Freud and stuff, right?” Sam guessed.

            “It’s
a great deal more complicated than that, Miss…?”

            “Klingeman,”
Sam said.

            The
elevator dinged and the doors slid open.  Dr. Willard gestured that the girls
should enter first.  He followed, and tapped the button for the fourth floor.

            “It
started with the ancient Greeks, right?  Weren’t they the first to realize that
insanity was a physical ummm…impairment, instead of blaming it on demons?”
Chloe offered.

            “Yes,
Miss. Adams, very good. Though my studies are more concerned with the history
of psychology in America, specifically with the history of institutions for the
treatment of mental illness.”

            The
elevator dinged again and the doors opened up onto a narrow, brightly lit,
hallway.  One wall was all windows, looking down on the bike racks and
scurrying students below, the other side was lined with doors.  Dr. Willard
continued on, not sparing a glance for the view.

            “So...
like…Thomas Kirkbride and that kind of stuff then?” Sam asked.

            Dr.
Willard stopped short and spun to face them.  Chloe noticed that his eyes lit
up the way Sam’s did whenever someone mentioned going to the bar. 

            “Yes,
yes, exactly that! Very, very good Miss Klingeman! Dr. Kirkbride, of course,
being the one to develop the Kirkbride Plan for mental hospitals.  I must admit
I am impressed. You are both familiar with such institutions?” Dr. Willard
asked.

            Sam
and Chloe exchanged a quick glance.

            “We
live in one,” Sam admitted.

            “Kirkbride
Hall! Ha-ha!” laughed Dr. Willard, “Excellent!  Come along then ladies.”        

            The
girls followed him into a cramped office.  Chloe looked around and wondered if
he had ever been diagnosed as a hoarder.  Books and binders were stacked
haphazardly, with some piles almost touching the ceiling.  Dr. Willard got
behind his desk by turning sideways and sliding through the narrow gap between
the edge of his desk and a tower of cardboard boxes against the wall.  There
were no windows, and no extra chairs for Chloe or Sam to sit in.

            Once
seated, Dr. Willard cleared his throat, folded his hands, and fixed them both
with a benevolent expression.  It was as though he thought he was about to give
them a real treat.

            “Now,
the opportunity I’m referring to is the chance to be a…well, we’ll call it a 
teacher’s assistant, a T.A.  Understand, this is not something that is usually
given to freshmen in the first semester.  You won’t be grading papers or tests
for me.  This position should really be called research assistant.  At another
university I would have graduate students to assist me, but we don’t have any
graduate programs here at Birch Harbor, so instead, you ladies will be given a
golden opportunity.  This is the sort of thing that can really distinguish you
when you apply for grad school elsewhere, as both of you plan on doing.  This
project is really special, I’ve been working on it almost ten years now, and
it’s nearing completion.  Let me fill you in.  What you may not know is that
here at Birch Harbor, we…I actually, have amassed one of the largest
collections of the letters and writings of asylum patients in the world.  We
have letters and journals dating back to the pre-Kirkbride days of the early
1800’s, all the way to the de-institutionalizing period of the 1970’s and
80’s.  I’ve spent years reading through them, gathering them, comparing them,
and what I’ve come up with is a very thought-provoking manuscript which truly
describes the patient experience in institutions through the years.  It also
proposes some new ideas.  For instance, it would appear that the proportion of
people in society suffering from schizophrenia, and other anxiety disorders, is
the same 100 years ago as it is today.”

            Sam
yawned and glanced distractedly around at the pictures and pieces of paper
stuck to the walls with push pins.  Dr. Willard watched her for a second,
either appalled or confused by her lack of interest.

            “I’ll
come to the point,” he said, “As I’ve said, the manuscript is in its final
stages.  I’ve a few more loose ends to tie up, a couple of gaps that need to be
filled, and it will be ready for publishing.  That’s where you two come in. 
I’ll need you to put in some time going through papers, finding entries
relating to specific topics and typing them up for me.  I would estimate that
if you can put in a few hours of work, two or three evenings a week, I may be
able to complete the final draft of the book by early spring.  I think I’m
going to call it-”

            Here
Dr. Willard paused for emphasis.  He spread his hands slowly in front of his
face, as though he could conjure up the title before their eyes.

            “Letters
to St. Dymphna…”  Dr. Willard glanced at the girls to catch their reaction. 
Sam coughed.  Chloe smiled weakly, not sure what to say.

            “St. 
Dymphna…she was the patron saint of the insane?” Dr. Willard prodded.

            “Oh,”
was all Chloe could say.

            “I
thought it was…well, rather poetic I guess…” Dr. Willard mumbled, clearly
disappointed.

            “So
is this a paid position, or…?” Sam asked in a bored tone.

            “Miss.
Klingeman, I am surprised.  After reading your paper I had assumed you would
jump at an opportunity to further your chances at getting into medical school. 
Is it paid?” Dr. Willard scoffed.

            “She’s
joking!” Chloe blurted out, “She’s kidding, of course.  We’d love to, right
Sam?  It sounds really great, really, ummm…interesting.”

            “Interesting!”
Sam mimicked Chloe’s forced enthusiasm.  Dr. Willard didn’t seem to notice her
tone.

            “Excellent,
really excellent!  We can begin right away, I hope?  The collection is housed at
the library. You take the elevator to the basement level, and its room 28B.  We
can meet there tonight to discuss the topics you’ll be researching and I can
give you both your keys at that time.  Shall we say…seven o’clock or
thereabouts?”

            “Seven,
yup that’s good,” Chloe agreed, backing out of the room.  Sam blew a quick
exasperated breath and pasted a tight smile on her face.

            “Seven…great,”
Sam repeated.  She followed Chloe out of the office.

            Chloe
hurried towards the elevator without turning to look at Sam.  She was pretty
sure she knew what the first words out of Sam’s mouth would be.  Sam did not
disappoint.

            “This
is all your fault!” Sam hissed, “Now we’re stuck being T.A.’s!  This is really
going to cut into our partying time.”

            “It’ll
look good on your med school application though,” Chloe ventured timidly.

            “Never,”
Sam vowed, “never, never, never do I ever let you write a paper for me
again…never!”

            Chloe
readjusted her bag and trudged slowly up the main stairs of the dormitory. 
Every step brought her closer to the empty room.  It would be the first time
since the incident that she would be in the room on her own.  She had thought
about waiting at the library or the cafeteria for Sam, but she hadn’t thought
to ask Sam if she would be coming back between classes.  Besides, at some point
they were both going to have to get used to being in the room alone again.  It
would be better…safer in the daytime, she was sure.  And if anything happened,
Seth was nearby. 

            Seth…

            Chloe
sighed thinking about it.  She had known it was too good to be true.  There was
never any reason for him to be interested in her, but it had seemed like he
was.  It had seemed like they were moving towards something, maybe the
beginning of a relationship, but then the whole awful episode with the walls
had occurred and now she didn’t know.  She wished there was some way she could
have erased that day.  He must have realized that there was something wrong,
that it wouldn’t make sense for someone to have vandalized their room.

            Chloe
turned down the second floor hallway still deep in thought.  Looking up, she
saw Jen crouched down by the door to her room.  She was about to slip something
underneath.

            “Jen?”
Chloe called.