Juicy (20 page)

The guy moved back immediately and Troy wondered what he had been doing in his personal space in the first place.

“You’ve been asleep a long time, dude.” The guy answered the unspoken question. He shrugged and Troy relaxed, lowering his hands and sitting up in the bed. It was a different bed; a real one and not just the pleather examining table covered in paper.

He looked around. It was a simple room with two beds, two desks, two lamps bolted into the table, two small bureaus beside each bed, one window and two doors. One of the doors presumably led to an adjacent bathroom and the other probably led into the hallway.

“Sorry, if I scared you. But the way people get drugged around here, you can never tell if someone’s O.D’d. And you’ve been asleep all day and all night and it’s now the next day.” Troy immediately looked around for a clock but didn’t see one.

The dark haired guy dug into the pocket of his pants and withdrew a cell phone and again, seeming to read Troy’s mind, as he told him the time. “It’s 7:50 am. They’ll be coming to get us soon for breakfast.” The guy sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at Troy who moved to the edge of his own bed. His limbs felt like weights were attached to them. He stood carefully and found that his legs felt wobbly but he wasn’t likely to go toppling to the floor.

He gave the boy a curious look and gestured with his head. “Bathroom?”

He pointed a slender pale finger to the further door.

“Thanks.” His mouth tasted of shit and he was certain that his breath must smell like it. He was wearing hospital issue drawstring pajamas and a loose shirt. With the bathroom door closed soundly, he peed for almost two full minutes and then found a gallon sized zip lock bag with his name written on it in fat magic marker. It contained toiletries, though he had packed an overnight bag that included a toothbrush and toothpaste.

But he was reluctant to go back out there with Vampire boy in order to search for his overnight bag, so he quickly used the cheap toothbrush and gurgled with the generic mouthwash. He sniffed his pits and found that they didn’t stink so he didn’t bother with deodorant, then he splashed his face with cold water, which helped to revive him.

When he returned to the bedroom, he saw that his bed had been made. His eyes moved to the young man where he was standing between their two beds. “We have to make up our own beds before breakfast.” The boy placed his hands on his narrow hips. He was standing like he was superman or Peter Pan. Troy wanted to laugh but that was probably the medicine.

“I’m Jace. Jace Macadue.” He was dressed in street clothes, wearing strangely patterened slacks as if he should be off golfing, and a black hoodie. He also wore slippers on his feet.

“I’m Troy Hyden. Um…do you know where my clothes are?”

“Yes, your personal belongings are locked up in the office. You can get them after breakfast.” As if on cue, someone knocked on the door and Jace opened it.

“Ready for breakfast?” A pleasant woman spoke. People wore regular clothes in this hospital. For all he knew, the lady could be a patient pretending to be staff. Well, she did have on a name tag. It said Rebecca.

Troy felt hungry and a little nauseous. Usually after a migraine he felt invigorated; as if his battery had been charged.

“Should I dress first?” He gestured to his bed clothes, self consciously.

“Not unless you want to.” She gave him a bright smile.

“Okay. I’ll wait.” She led them to an elevator and Troy remembered the last time he’d been there. He prayed that there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday. Jace and Rebecca engaged in light banter but after Troy listened long enough to know that he didn’t have to participate in the conversation, he allowed his mind to wander.

Had Juicy tried to call him? He missed her. He wished he hadn’t come…but then he remembered the idea of his baby in his hands. Yes. He needed to be here. He sighed and his two companions glanced at him. They reached a dining hall where there was a buffet set up.

“Troy, there is some medicine to take after breakfast. Someone will escort you to Dr. Barren’s office and he will discuss this with you, okay?” Rebecca’s attention had moved to him now.

He nodded and Rebecca told them to have a nice breakfast and then she disappeared. Jace evidently had assigned himself as Troy’s guide and he found himself relieved to have the company of someone who knew what he was doing. Jace guided him to the end of the food line and picked up a tray. Troy did the same and Jace began choosing items that he wanted for breakfast; an apple, cheerios, a pint sized carton of vitamin D milk and two slices of buttered toast cut diagonally.

“Are you 5150?”

Troy had placed scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes onto his tray. He gave Jace a quick look. “Fifty-what?”

“5150. Committed against your will?”

“No. You?”

“Yes.”

Well he seemed pretty calm about being committed. “This isn’t my first time.” The young man explained as he picked up his tray and moved to another table where there were dispensers for orange juice, apple juice, coffee, and hot water for tea. Jace didn’t get anything but waited for Troy to pour himself coffee and grab sugar and creamer. Then he led them to a circular table large enough for four or five bodies to squeeze around. There were only about fifteen or sixteen people present in the room and Troy couldn’t tell exactly which were staff and which were patients.

They sat and Troy resisted the urge to ask Jace why he had been committed. The young man didn’t offer to tell, besides, he didn’t want to discuss his own personal business with a stranger.

“After breakfast you can do pretty much whatever you want. Later there will be counseling. You can do private or group. I’ll be in group.” He offered.

Troy didn’t respond. He wanted a private session before he sat around listening to other people’s issues. After he got his needs met, then he could do whatever it would take to be a team player.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

Troy shrugged. He forked eggs into his mouth and took a bite of the slightly rubbery bacon. “I’m fairly talkative. It’s just…”

“First time in a mental institution?” Jace prompted and Troy nodded.

“It’s no biggie. If you were dangerous or psychotic you would have been separated so I guess all of us here are considered mild-mannered psychopaths. But I will warn you that everything you do and everything you say is being recorded.” Troy gave the boy a sharp look. Ahh, so here was his illness. The poor kid was paranoid schizo. Troy just nodded. He’d had plenty of friends who were. You just kinda left them alone and let them work it out on their own until things evened out for them again.

Jace chuckled. “No, I mean literally. The staff walks around with clipboards and they record everything you do and say. Then they evaluate you based on that, your group, medication, probably even which food items you pick. Not sure about that, but everything you are likely to do is going to be documented.”

Troy sipped his coffee and watched the kid. “Well, I don’t have a problem with that. I have nothing to hide.” He blushed when he remembered that the boy was 5150. Perhaps he had a lot to hide.

Jace tugged down the sleeves of his hoodie, than began spooning cheerios into his mouth. He was quite the talkative boy, even if he didn’t mention the reason for his being here. He told Troy about being in his first year of college and how hard it was. He told him that he was a woman born in a man’s body and that his parent’s had gone through a horrible divorce—and he speculated if being transgendered had anything to do with it. He explained that his college roommate was a jerk, and had probably gone through all of his stuff.

Troy was tired just listening to him. And when Rebecca returned he was glad to throw his scraps into the trash and follow her wherever she needed to take him. Jace gave him a sad look when he got up to leave and Troy had to promise that they’d see each other later. Then he looked brighter and Troy followed Rebecca with a nod of his head.

“Can I use the telephone?”

“Sure. You’ll have a free time after your visit with the doctor. You can shower, shave if you want or use the phones, watch a movie or just listen to music. There’s a library here as well if you’d like to do some reading.”

Troy hid a frown. He only had seventy-two hours to give them. He’d already lost close to twenty. Why would he be lounging around reading books and such when he had committed himself for help?

They reached an office and Rebecca knocked on the door, then let them in before receiving a response. Dr. Barren rose from behind a big wooden desk covered in books and shook Troy’s hand enthusiastically. He looked like a talk show host with his perfectly coiffed white hair and TV star good looks. But he seemed honest and forthcoming so Troy found himself liking him very quickly.

“It’s nice to meet you Troy.” He returned to his seat and Troy sat down in a plastic chair directly across from him. Dr. Barren consulted the file that Troy had seen just yesterday, only suddenly it was fuller. Had they transferred information to it, and if so from where? Or had they gathered that much information just from observing him in his sleep?

“How did the medicine make you feel?”

He took a moment to consider his answer then he told him that it made him wake up feeling like crap, but that it had gotten rid of the headache…or maybe it hadn’t. Maybe it had just knocked him out so that he didn’t know he was still in the headache.

The doctor wrote that down. “Now, I understand that you have severe tics and frequent seizures. Will you tell me more about them?” Troy was happy to tell the doctor every detail that he could think of. Dr. Barren filled up an entire page in his precise handwriting.

“Troy, I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but not all hospitals and medical facilities use the same computerized recording system for patient’s records. I was able to get your medical records from the time that the state assigned you to a treatment plan, but I would need to manually request your records from the various other hospitals that you’d visited. There is no time for me to do that, but I found it very curious that your medical records show severe physical trauma.

“You have fractures and poorly repaired ligament damage.” Troy swallowed and the doctor gave him a close, yet thoughtful look. “If I had seen fractures of that type before looking at your childhood x-rays, I would have suspected a lifetime of physical abuse.”

Troy sat up straight, mouth flying open to protest, but the Doctor continued. “But there was not one fracture before your eighteenth birthday. I know that you’ve spent some time on the streets and I’m assuming that there had been some violence. I want you to know that anything we speak about will remain in this room.”

Troy rubbed his face. “I didn’t kn-know we’d be talking about any of th-that. I mean, my pr-o-o-oblems began well before being on the streets.”

“But if there are…situations that could create a negative reaction in you, then that is what we are exploring.” Troy understood and he nodded reluctantly. “So what I would like to do is introduce medication to you before we talk today. I understand that you do not want to take any mood altering drugs and are interested in finding a way to curtail the onslaught and length of your seizures. Also you are interested in finding a way to deal with your crippling headaches. Is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want.”

With that understanding out of the way, Troy spent the next few hours detailing his life on the streets, his abuse at the hands of a few bad police, the help that he’d gotten from Kelly and Pastor Greene and other people. Then he began talking about Juicy.

He had stuttered most of the time that he recounted the details of his life but when he began talking about her, his words flowed evenly from his mouth.

“Troy.” Dr. Barren stared into a folder. “Juicy is your…girlfriend, and the mother of your unborn child?”

“Yes.”

“We can’t get in touch with her.” Troy sighed in frustration.

“I don’t…kn-know what to say. I’m pretty sure that she’s not too thrilled with me right now.”

“Okay.” Troy was surprised that he didn’t say any more about it. He stood up and retrieved Troy’s overnight bag from a tall bureau. “It’s getting late. You’re probably tired and could use a break. After lunch we will have counseling. Do you want to do a one on one or a group?”

Troy frowned. “Well…”

“We understand about the misdiagnosis in your past, as well as the over-medications and wrong medications. Troy, no one is presuming that you are bipolar. Okay?”

He nodded in relief. “Okay.” He stood and moved towards the door. “I’ll go to group.”

“Okay.” Dr. Barren gave him the room number and told him that it would begin promptly at 2pm. He was surprised that no one would physically escort him. Maybe they only did that if you were 5150.

Troy went back to his room, which was thankfully empty. Why weren’t there clocks around? He used the bathroom, showered and then dressed in skinny jeans and a black t-shirt that had FINAL FANTASY written in bold white and blue letters, along with several images of the anime characters. He looked down at himself and grimaced. Had he really been this big of a geek?

He headed to the reception desk and a friendly woman smiled at him brightly. Those smiles were disturbing. Why were they so happy?