When I turned into the last hallway, the one where Ronnie was, I heard a woman’s voice screaming over and over, “Help me! Help me! Help me!”
I can’t, I wanted to yell back. I can’t even help my own brother.
And I froze in the hallway, just twenty feet from the door to Ronnie’s room. My feet felt like concrete, my legs like lead. I couldn’t move. I knew it could be bad, seeing Ronnie in there. I lost track of how long I stood there like that, locked in place like a child afraid of entering a dark basement. The spell broke when a nurse came out of Ronnie’s room. She was about my age and slim, her legs pumping with controlled efficiency. She was carrying a packet of papers, and when she saw me, she lifted her glasses up to the top of her head, resting them on her thick hair.
“Elizabeth?” she said.
I didn’t process that she had said my name. I couldn’t imagine how she could have known my name. I figured I looked like a lot of visitors to that ward. Awkward, uncertain. Scared. Probably happened every day.
“Elizabeth Hampton?” she said.
I looked more closely at her face. I did know her, but her name didn’t come to me right away.
“It’s me,” she said. “Janie Rader. Well, I go by Jane now. From Dover East.”
It came back. Janie Rader. We went to high school together and hung around occasionally. During junior year we spent a lot of time together, sipping beer in Janie’s basement, listening to loud music, trying on clothes, and pretending to be more sophisticated than we really were. We hadn’t stayed in touch since then.
“Oh, Janie. It’s you. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’m here to see my brother.”
“I know,” she said. She leaned forward and placed her hand on my upper arm. “I heard about all of that. I’m sorry. And your mom… I thought of calling you when I heard the news. I didn’t even know you were living back in Dover.”
“I just moved back. For graduate school.”
“I remember your mom from when we were… when we hung out together in high school. She was always so nice to me when I would come over to your house.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I guess we didn’t spend as much time at my house as we did at yours. How’s Ronnie?”
“Oh, Ronnie,” she said, nodding. “He’s doing better now. He’s calmed down.”
“Did he have a rough night?” I asked. “I was worried he would be anxious after he came here.”
“Last night was fine,” she said. “We gave him something to help him sleep. No, today was the rough day.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. Janie had always been easygoing and reluctant to say anything bad about anybody. “I know you’re his closest relative, right? There’s just you and Ronnie?”
“Yes.”
She paused another moment, then said, “You may want to tell the rest of the members of your family to show some more restraint when they come to visit him.”
“What do you mean, ‘restraint’?”
A phone buzzed somewhere on her body. She pulled it out of her pocket, flipped the glasses down, and studied the screen. “Sorry.” She silenced the phone and dropped it into her pocket before looking back at me. “I’m sure you know that Ronnie is in a precarious emotional state right now,” she said.
“I know. When Mom was…”
Was murdered. Murdered. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to say that out loud. It seemed too… ugly. Too real.
“I know,” she said. “And we’re trying to keep him calm so the doctors can do their work. But one of your relatives came by today and got him pretty agitated. If that happens, then they have to medicate more, and it makes it more difficult for the doctors to examine him.”
“Are you talking about my uncle?” I asked. “He wouldn’t agitate Ronnie. It would be just the opposite.”
“No, I’ve seen your uncle here. Paul, right? No, not him.”
“Then who? Are you sure we’re talking about Ronnie? No one else would visit him—”
“I know it’s Ronnie,” Janie said. “I’ve been here all day, working a double shift. I know.”
“So what happened?” I asked.
My legs no longer felt so heavy. They felt lighter, but not in a good way. I leaned back against the wall of the hallway. The lights overhead seemed too bright, too piercing. And the cries from the helpless patient started again.
“Help me! Help me! Help me!”
Janie ignored it. “Someone came by to see your brother today,” she said. “A woman. At first, everything was fine. They seemed to be visiting. Then, I don’t know, things took a turn. Whatever she said to your brother got him stirred up. He became emotional, almost hysterical. When I went in there, the woman was crying a little too, and she left before I could find out what happened. She just apologized and bolted.”
“Did she hurt Ronnie?” I asked.
“No, he’s fine. It wasn’t anything like that. I got the feeling she was asking him things, talking to him about family stuff. Maybe she was talking about your mother. I’m not sure, but whatever it was, it didn’t work for him right now. So maybe just spread the word among the relatives to keep everything light when they come here. Just talk about happy stuff, mundane stuff. And bring him flowers or something to add some cheer—”
“We don’t have any other relatives,” I said, my voice flat and distracted.
“What’s that?”
“We don’t have any other relatives.” I looked into Janie’s eyes. Hers were pale blue, the sclera tinted a little red. Tired. But also sympathetic. I welcomed the warmth I saw there, the familiarity and the comfort. It was good to see her. “It’s just Ronnie and me and my uncle. That’s it. Everybody else is dead.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. She reached out and placed her hand gently on my arm again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know if this woman was a relative or not. I just assumed, and that’s my mistake. I know your family’s been through a lot.”
“Thanks.”
“Whoever it was, relative or friend, just try to, you know, keep it a little on the cheery side for now. This isn’t easy for your brother.” She nodded toward the door to Ronnie’s room. “He’s asleep now, but you can go on in.”
I didn’t move. “This woman,” I asked, “what did she look like?”
The phone buzzed again, and this time Janie didn’t even bother to look at it. “She was about fifty, maybe a little older. Thin. Dark hair.” She shrugged. “I really didn’t pay too much attention since I was tending to your brother. Maybe she’s a friend of the family?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“I do have to go now, Elizabeth,” she said. “Duty calls. But you’re welcome to stay.” She waited a moment. “It was good to see you again.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was. Thanks for being so understanding.”
“It’s part of the job,” she said. “And we’re old friends, right?”
“Right. Of course.”
I started to move on, but Janie said, “You know, if you ever need someone to talk to about all of this, I’m around. We can meet for coffee or something.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Maybe we should.”
“I’m sure you’re busy, of course.”
“Thanks, Janie.”
She walked off, the brisk motion of her legs making the fabric of her pants swish together.
I tried to picture the woman she described in my mind, but it was pointless. I had no idea who Janie was talking about.