{"id":332,"date":"2011-03-11T03:19:44","date_gmt":"2011-03-11T03:19:44","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/?p=332"},"modified":"2015-03-26T10:04:46","modified_gmt":"2015-03-26T10:04:46","slug":"while-the-sun-was-out-3","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/while-the-sun-was-out-3\/","title":{"rendered":"While The Sun Was Out"},"content":{"rendered":"

By Scott Cooper<\/em><\/p>\n

The psych ward was bleak on the best of days. It didn\u2019t matter what shade of beige or taupe they used to paint and repaint the walls, what kind of soft, pastel art they hung on them after they\u2019d dried; it had the effect of a tissue on a bullet wound. Every time I walked through the halls, I could feel the Lithium oozing from the dried drops ditched by hurried painters.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d been going to Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on the ward for a few months because it was close to home and some years back, I\u2019d been a patient. I told myself I went to that meeting to remind me of how it used to be, when alcohol consumed my life and my mind cracked at the end of its whip. In truth, I went because I liked the patients; their stories were far more compelling than anywhere else.<\/p>\n

How many times can I stomach another drunk-a-log about some guy who decided to kick the booze or the needle because he lost his job, his wife, his home, some three years back? I mean, what have you done for me lately? With patients, all the horror and trauma pulsed with freshness, the ashes from their psychiatric fire not yet cold. Billy tried to hang himself with his best belt when his parents walked in. Maureen overdosed while sitting in a parked car. Everyone was some shade of broken, everyone was at the end of their rope.<\/p>\n

Arriving home after one particular meeting, the phone rang.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHenry, it\u2019s April.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, April. What\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m back in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat? Wait, I was just there, the meeting just ended. How the\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know but I couldn\u2019t come. They have me on strap-down, in 101.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Jesus.\u201d If Fairfield Hospital was the psychiatric center of the city, room 101 was ground zero. It consisted of four windowless walls and a thin plastic covered mattress atop a wooden frame specifically designed for leather restraints. When a patient broke free of their medicated simmer into a raging nut case, they were placed in 101 until they cooled out.<\/p>\n

Even in this moment of crisis, I still couldn\u2019t believe I was friends with April. I never could. I\u2019d met her in a meeting a few months back and noticed her right away because she looked like a cheerleader coming off the back end of a bad meth run. She was cute as hell with both her wrists wrapped in gauze that she relished like battle scars as if to say, \u201cwhat you see is not what you get.\u201d Her dark blond hair had streaks of black and brown from a dye job long since abandoned. The coup-de-tat was her Spongebob Squarepants pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt with Ted Bundy\u2019s face on it. Throughout the meeting, she played with an emery board, looking up from under shadowy, deep set eyes to survey the action. The regulars shared, I shared a story about cutting (naturally) and after the meeting broke, we waited for a nurse to take us from the cafeteria through the maze of hallways to the front.<\/p>\n

April came up to me after the meeting and poked me on the arm. \u201cI saw you smirking at me. I always know when someone is smirking. It\u2019s a gift.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat is a gift,\u201d I said. \u201cI wasn\u2019t smirking at you, per se. It was your shirt that did it – where did you get that masterpiece?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI dunno. Someplace I guess. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about the coolest thing I\u2019ve ever seen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah. Plus, when you add Spongebob to it, the juxtaposition is priceless. Like a car bomb detonating in the center of Disneyland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cInteresting interpretation. Are you familiar with this Bundy?\u201d she asked, cocking an eyebrow.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh yes,\u201d I replied. \u201cI am most familiar with this Bundy.\u201d<\/p>\n

She smiled, I smiled and as we walked and talked through the halls, she gave me her number and I gave her mine.<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, I\u2019m not gonna fuck you or anything, ok?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, I wouldn\u2019t dream of such a thing,\u201d I said. She glared at me. \u201cSeriously, ok,\u201d I smiled, raising my palms up in innocence. \u201cYou\u2019re like, what 18? You\u2019re young enough to be my kid.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs if that matters. Look, it\u2019s just that, well, I liked what you had to say and you\u2019re not like the regular bores I find in meetings. I don\u2019t really have any friends left and while I don\u2019t like people much, you know, it\u2019s nice sometimes to\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI get it. I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, ok. Plus, you know this Bundy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know this Bundy,\u201d I smiled. \u201cCall me when you get out if you want, I can give you a ride if you need one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe. Mayyyy-be. But, know this. I always go barefoot. Shoes are like nooses for my feet. Understand?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOk. No long walks over broken glass. Got it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood.\u201d She looked down, studying the emery board. \u201cHey, you want this?\u201d she asked, holding it out for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, I mean, I\u2019m a guy and\u2026\u201d
\n\u201cYou need it and I\u2019ve got like twenty.\u201d
\n\u201dThanks,\u201d I said, taking it, putting in my shirt pocket.<\/p>\n

She looked me in the eyes for a few long seconds and said, \u201cI\u2019m here because I covered my dad in my blood.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe was yelling at my mom about whatever he yells about and then he got his gun. He usually just grabs it to get his point across. He began pistol whipping her in the kitchen and I started yelling for him to stop and the revolver fucking snapped. I mean this damn thing just shattered all over the place. I\u2019d never seen one break before. I went into my bathroom, got a razor, cut my wrists and ran back into the kitchen and jumped all over him. The blood freaked him out to no end, which, I must say, I enjoyed seeing. Anyway, he called 911 and, well, I\u2019m here. I just wanted to let you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026 Oh, shit. I don\u2019t even know what to say. April, I\u2019m sorry. I know that doesn\u2019t help much but I am. If you need that ride, a visit, a Spongebob teddy bear, anything at all, I\u2019m here, ok?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d she said, smiling, giving me a hug. \u201cI gotta go. I\u2019ll call you when I get out of this psychotic labyrinth.\u201d She turned and disappeared behind the double doors with the clouded glass panels.<\/p>\n

Walking out to my car, I was haunted by something she\u2019d said \u2013 she\u2019d never seen a gun break. It\u2019s like saying \u201cI\u2019ve never seen an electric chair short out.\u201d I knew right then, there wasn\u2019t much room for more violence before someone ended up in a body bag.<\/p>\n

She called when she was released and since I was unemployed, we spent days on end together. It was summer and the sun was long and bright for weeks. We went to the bookstore, the movies, took walks, drank Slurpees, watched kids play baseball at the field downtown, took naps on the lawn outside the library. Our favorite activity was hanging out at the park, people watching. We couldn\u2019t get enough. I\u2019d paint her toenails, she\u2019d fix my cuticles as we smoked cigarettes and took it all in.<\/p>\n

\u201cOk, see that woman over there?\u201d she\u2019d ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the blue blouse?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, the one with the stroller, white shirt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind of car does she drive?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmmm,\u201d I\u2019d say, mulling it over. \u201cProbably a Lexus.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOk. But I think Mercedes, Audi, something along those lines. Look at that stroller. I saw it in Nordstroms once and it\u2019s more old school, not flashy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd Lexus owners are new money. Or old people. You see how her jewelry is understated and the perfect pleats on her khaki shorts? That\u2019s real Mayflower crap. That\u2019s old money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood point. She is sensible, I\u2019ll give her that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sure enough, she hopped into an Audi A6. \u201cWell done, Sister, well done. But you know it\u2019s her husband\u2019s.\u201d
\n\u201cIs there a difference?\u201d<\/p>\n

Now, she was back inside.<\/p>\n

\u201cTalk to me April.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, my dad was pissed I hadn\u2019t been home much and after hanging out with you and having so much fun, I just couldn\u2019t take it there. I didn\u2019t feel like finishing school, I\u2019m barely there, and what\u2019s the point of graduating high school anyway? Plus, with him beating my mom again\u2026 So, I took like sixty Tylenol with some vodka and, fuck it, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201dYou should have called me, I\u2019ve told you, always call when things get bad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease, don\u2019t. I know, I should have but I didn\u2019t, ok? I\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, we\u2019ll talk about it later. Why 101 though?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOk, last night, this girl Betsy, this big fat girl started groaning or moaning or something in her bed. It got louder and louder, like a crucified whale and some nurses came by and tried to calm her down, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI was checking all this out from the hall and as soon as the nurses were back at their stations, she sprung up like she was weightless, did some kind of ballerina pirouette and then started beating on the bureau with her fists, screaming like she was possessed. It began to crack and splinter and then she picked up the whole damn thing and threw it against the window. Remember the windows, how they\u2019re thick as hell with chicken wire in them?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, the window cracked, if you can believe that and the bureau shattered into a hundred pieces and Betsy just broke.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBroke how?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLike Foreman, in the Rumble in the Jungle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow the hell do you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRemember, when I was staying at your house, we were watching some documentary on Muhammad Ali?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen that reporter said that Foreman fell in sections? That was it. Betsy fell by ankles and knees and hips and chest. It was insane. She writhed and screamed, contorted and twitching on the floor. The patients got manic and nurses rushed into the room, one with a needle full of tranquilizer. Between Betsy and the bureau and the chaos, I began screaming and flashing back to my dad breaking the gun on my mom so I ran into the room, pushing patients and nurses out of my way and pried a piece of glass from the cracked window. I lifted up my shirt and someone yelled \u2018NO!\u2019 and I cut my stomach pretty good and someone grabbed me and next thing I know, I\u2019m in 101, strapped down and flipping out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, April. Christ, I\u2019m so sorry. Are you ok now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I mean, my stomach hurts and I\u2019m still a little wigged out but I\u2019m calmer than yesterday. At least they let me use the phone for a few minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGod damn. That\u2019s so fucking heavy. Can I do anything, bring anything?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m just so glad you were home, I really needed to talk to you. But, yeah, tomorrow, can you bring a bottle of electric blue toenail polish? My fingers and toes are all chipped up.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course. I\u2019ll get the best they have.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d she said, pausing. \u201cAnd a bus ticket.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoing somewhere?\u201d I chuckled.<\/p>\n

She exhaled and said, \u201cI\u2019m going to Los Angeles.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cApril, hang on, let\u2019s just take a step back here\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHenry, I\u2019m going.\u201d<\/p>\n

My mind began reeling. \u201cListen, hon, you can\u2019t go, you need to stay here. I mean, what about the park and hanging out and people watching? And my cuticles are just beginning to look good now and we have so much to do. Like, I saw this woman the other day and I have to find her again so you can see her, she\u2019s too much and I need you for Christ\u2019s sake and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, Henry, I know. But if I stay near my family, whether by my hand or his, I\u2019ll be dead by Christmas. And you know it.\u201d<\/p>\n

I did know it. I knew it with the certainty of a sunset but that didn\u2019t make it any easier to bear.
\n\u201cWhy not Portland? It\u2019s only three hours south of here and I could visit you. You can\u2019t go to Los Angeles. No one ever comes back. And the freeways; the 405, 605, 134, 101, and the 2 and by the time you figure it out you\u2019ll be old and lost and out of gas, choking on smog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHenry?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI love you, Henry.\u201d<\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t speak. I tried but the words were caught and tangled in my throat.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s ok, I know. Listen, I have to go, my time is up. Come tomorrow at noon. Bye.\u201d<\/p>\n

Deep down, I suppose I always knew she\u2019d never stay. That I could never wrap her tight in a blanket, tuck her deep beneath safe covers, protect her and keep her forever. But I acted like I could and that denial kept me safe.<\/p>\n

For the first time in nearly a year, I drank because I needed to. I wasn\u2019t sorry. Somewhere around the ninth beer, brimming with rage and sorrow, I took a hammer to my own bureau. With a series of punishing swings, I reduced it to kindling. Panting, sweating, and in a frenzy I went for my gun but sense kicked in and I stopped. If I was going to shoot myself, it would have to wait.<\/p>\n

I went back into the living room, cracked another two beers, finished one in a hurry and lit a cigarette. A bottle of metallic pink toenail polish stood on the coffee table. I picked up the phone and started to call Greyhound but remembered that her Ted Bundy shirt was in my laundry basket. I grabbed the shirt, went back to the couch and buried my face in it, breathing deep, staining it with tears. I took my shoes and socks off and rubbed my feet into the dirty carpet. I love you too, April. I picked up the phone and dialed Amtrak instead. Los Angeles, one way, first class Sleeper Car.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Scott Cooper The psych ward was bleak on the best of days. It didn\u2019t matter what shade of beige or taupe they used to paint and repaint the walls, what kind of soft, pastel art they hung on them … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":20,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,11],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-332","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-2011-edition","category-previous-editions"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/20"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=332"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2700,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/332\/revisions\/2700"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=332"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=332"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/studentweb.bellevuecollege.edu\/belletrist\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=332"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}