Amanda died. It was as if we needed each other, he and I. As if it pained him to see me take such poor care of myself. It wasn’t too long after that we decided to own each other.
“Hey,” Warren said, sitting across from me. “Rain just stopped. Creek’s flooding up to the bench.”
“There’s a creek?”
Warren and Karen glanced at each other.
She pushed her tray forward and shot a look at Mark before standing. “Let’s give Fiona a tour. Our tour.”
Warren looked me up and down, as if seeing my body through the light blue cotton uniform. “Can I trust you?”
“You can take your tour and stick it.”
“You want this tour,” Karen said. “It’s worth it. Almost as good as freedom.”
“I don’t need to prove I’m trustworthy. I ate you out in Ojai, and you”—I turned to Warren—“licked flake off my tits. That was my coke, and you never gave me shit in return but numb nipples.”
“Point taken,” Warren said as he guided me out the door.
The outside had been designed, manicured, and planted to the teeth. The verdant garden was dotted with wood benches—places to reflect on your mental sickness, eat yourself with regret, and chew on your shortcomings. Jack crouched over a bed of wildflowers, rubbing the yellow petals.
“Hey, Jack,” Warren said as he slapped the not totally unfuckable nerd so hard on the ass he nearly fell over.
“Ow!”
“Not cool, Warren,” I said, helping Jack up. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” He glared at Warren.
I brushed Jack’s shoulders even though there was nothing there.
“Sorry, man.” Warren made a fist as if to punch Jack in the arm.
Jack flinched. I liked Warren less and less with each passing second.
“We’re checking out the holes. You coming?” Warren asked.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Can we go?” Karen asked, walking backward toward the gardens. “I have a session in fifteen minutes.” She indicated the clock on the highest part of the common building.
Our personal effects had been taken, including watches. The clocks dotting the facility were the only way we had to keep time.
“Me too,” I said.
Warren jogged ahead of us and spread his arms. He looked handsome in the deep foliage, like a Greek god of abundance. “There are cameras everywhere.” He pointed upward.
I didn’t look directly, but with a sidelong glance, I saw the shiny glass at the crook of a tree branch.
“But there are some corners they don’t get to. Holes in their vision matrix.” Even in his silly mental ward uniform, Warren carried himself as if he was entitled to the known universe. He stood with his back to an old oak. “Like here. Hole. Right here. They might find you if they’re walking around, but the cameras can’t see shit until they prune this shit back. Follow me.” Like the docent of sneaky spaces, he pointed out three more places where a patient couldn’t be seen by the cameras.
“But they know where the holes are, too,” Karen interjected. “If they see you go out of range, and don’t see you come out, they come and check.”
“If they’re paying attention,” Warren said. “Which is a crap shoot. Let’s go to the creek.”
We walked down a winding path. I heard cars speeding somewhere past a hedge, but it didn’t sound like a major road. The sound of moving water added to the white noise, and past a line of trees, we came to a swelling creek. A chain-link fence separated us from it.
“Is that PCH?” I asked, referring to the water. I followed them along the fence to a hole cut into it.
“Not even close.” Warren pulled the cut fence open. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
We crept through. Karen put her journal on a fallen tree trunk and kicked off her shoes. She rolled up her pants.
“Go on, sweetheart,” Warren said as Karen stepped into the water. “I’m sitting this out.”
“Why?” I followed Karen’s lead, rolling up my pants.
“The thing with my kid brother.”
“What thing?” I
“Hey,” Warren said, sitting across from me. “Rain just stopped. Creek’s flooding up to the bench.”
“There’s a creek?”
Warren and Karen glanced at each other.
She pushed her tray forward and shot a look at Mark before standing. “Let’s give Fiona a tour. Our tour.”
Warren looked me up and down, as if seeing my body through the light blue cotton uniform. “Can I trust you?”
“You can take your tour and stick it.”
“You want this tour,” Karen said. “It’s worth it. Almost as good as freedom.”
“I don’t need to prove I’m trustworthy. I ate you out in Ojai, and you”—I turned to Warren—“licked flake off my tits. That was my coke, and you never gave me shit in return but numb nipples.”
“Point taken,” Warren said as he guided me out the door.
The outside had been designed, manicured, and planted to the teeth. The verdant garden was dotted with wood benches—places to reflect on your mental sickness, eat yourself with regret, and chew on your shortcomings. Jack crouched over a bed of wildflowers, rubbing the yellow petals.
“Hey, Jack,” Warren said as he slapped the not totally unfuckable nerd so hard on the ass he nearly fell over.
“Ow!”
“Not cool, Warren,” I said, helping Jack up. “You all right?”
“I’m fine.” He glared at Warren.
I brushed Jack’s shoulders even though there was nothing there.
“Sorry, man.” Warren made a fist as if to punch Jack in the arm.
Jack flinched. I liked Warren less and less with each passing second.
“We’re checking out the holes. You coming?” Warren asked.
“Nah. I’m good.”
“Can we go?” Karen asked, walking backward toward the gardens. “I have a session in fifteen minutes.” She indicated the clock on the highest part of the common building.
Our personal effects had been taken, including watches. The clocks dotting the facility were the only way we had to keep time.
“Me too,” I said.
Warren jogged ahead of us and spread his arms. He looked handsome in the deep foliage, like a Greek god of abundance. “There are cameras everywhere.” He pointed upward.
I didn’t look directly, but with a sidelong glance, I saw the shiny glass at the crook of a tree branch.
“But there are some corners they don’t get to. Holes in their vision matrix.” Even in his silly mental ward uniform, Warren carried himself as if he was entitled to the known universe. He stood with his back to an old oak. “Like here. Hole. Right here. They might find you if they’re walking around, but the cameras can’t see shit until they prune this shit back. Follow me.” Like the docent of sneaky spaces, he pointed out three more places where a patient couldn’t be seen by the cameras.
“But they know where the holes are, too,” Karen interjected. “If they see you go out of range, and don’t see you come out, they come and check.”
“If they’re paying attention,” Warren said. “Which is a crap shoot. Let’s go to the creek.”
We walked down a winding path. I heard cars speeding somewhere past a hedge, but it didn’t sound like a major road. The sound of moving water added to the white noise, and past a line of trees, we came to a swelling creek. A chain-link fence separated us from it.
“Is that PCH?” I asked, referring to the water. I followed them along the fence to a hole cut into it.
“Not even close.” Warren pulled the cut fence open. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
We crept through. Karen put her journal on a fallen tree trunk and kicked off her shoes. She rolled up her pants.
“Go on, sweetheart,” Warren said as Karen stepped into the water. “I’m sitting this out.”
“Why?” I followed Karen’s lead, rolling up my pants.
“The thing with my kid brother.”
“What thing?” I
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