Behind the Veil

When the mind shatters...where does it go?

I remember nearly nothing of the Before, of the time when I wasn't here eating the uncooked macaroni rather than making a tower or a frog or a smiling sun on bright pumpkin colored construction paper. Most days I don't remember anything outside of the chicken wire covered windows looking out over impossibly green manicured lawns with flowers who names echo oddly in my waking dreams but I can't really recall why I know the difference between ox-eyes and black-eyed-susans. Some days I don't even know they are flowers, I just know that they make me sad in a happy way; or is that happy in a sad way?

I'm not even sure that I make sense anymore. I'm not sure of so much, and although I would like to blame what the nurses happily call my "meds" as if I was actually going to get better, I know most of my memory loss is self induced. I'm hiding from something, something that is just beyond my field of vision. Sometimes the veil is gauzy and the shapes make my heart thud though I am not sure that it is fear or excitement. Sometimes the curtain between my new Now and my old Then is like a lead vault door with one of those wonky gear locks that look like a steering wheel from a sail boat.

Wait, do sail boats need steering wheels? Isn't that what the sails are for? Didn't they have a... a, god what was it called? A fin? No, that wasn't right. Maybe it was a rubber, that sounded closer.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yeah.

I don't remember much from the Before, from the Then, from when my head was full of thoughts that made sense and ran together like a stream flowing down a hill. But there are moments of clarity, ideas so sharp you'd swear Lucas filmed them and I sit up straighter and look around me confused on where I am. And what I could possibly be doing in a room so full of the smells of piss and desperation, of madness and shame that the yellowing white paint is peeling from the walls in long, suicidal strips. I sit up and stare in horrified awe at the pale pink night shirt I am wearing over some kind of cotton bottoms that look like they had seen better days, hell maybe even better years.

I stand on rubbery legs and look for help, because surely they wouldn't let people like this roam without supervision! For gods sake, that man was yelling at a dead television, and that woman was crying, yelling, screaming at the window while carving some odd, frightening runes into her cheeks with her own tiny nails. Then the nurse, someone I would always call Blondie Boo B***h for some reason that made me giggle no matter how much my mind let me be aware, would run over with a small plastic shot glass full of a Skittles variety of pills and a guiltless smile. I noticed that Blondie's dark roots were shouting that she was a faker, a liar, a hair dyer- someone not to trust!

"Maureen. You look tired. Why not take your meds and then we can go have a nice lay down?"

Maureen, yes, that was me. I struggled to Stay, to not fade back behind the cloudiness and shook my head. "No. No, I don't want to lay down. I want to go home. I want to talk to someone in charge."

Blondie Boo B***h, or to save time B3,  shook her head a little sadly, though still professionally distant. Her look said that she was in charge, that I should taste the rainbow and go to La La Land. There was something, someone that would help me. I had to grasp at the tail end of that thought, and I wrestled with it while B3 kept offering me the rattling Jello cup. I reached for it, hesitating because there was someone that could help me. I needed to talk to...

"Dr. Karnup! I want Dr. Karnup!"

B3 sighed heavily but nodded, though she rolled her eyes at the bulky black man in all blue near the door. He disappeared and I sat, feeling like I had just ran a marathon. He would make things better. I could feel it. But even more importantly, I could think it. I did the times tables in my head, exercising a muscle that felt as heavy as a rock while I waited. I wanted to be sharp, I wanted to be coherent, I wanted to be Here.

B3 escorted me herself to the outer office and then pushed me into a brown chair that was so shiny it looked greasy and told me to wait quietly. I kept multiplying numbers until I started to get confused with the amounts. Then I would take a deep breath of lemons and floor wax and start over. I had gotten back into the teens when the frosted glass door with gold scprit opened and I see...

Santa Clause?

No, not really. But the man was very fat, with wire rim glasses perched on a tiny nose and his blue eyes twinkling under a snowy fall of hair. The only thing missing was the long bread and a rational part of me believed he shaved every morning carefully so that he would stop seeing old Nick in the mirror. He smiles at me warmly and waves me in, standing behind his desk until I take a seat. The office is familiar and cozy, warm with personal touches here and there without seeming pompous. I smiled at Santa and he grinned back.

"So, Maureen, I hear you're having a good day. How wonderful!"

I nodded, though I was confused in a way that wasn't confused. That rational voice was a mere whisper that stated I didn't want to know so I smiled again. Santa leaned forward and lifted a heavy crystal lid off a candy dish and offers me some silently. I was devastated when they were butterscotches and not candy canes or peppermints. Santa should always offer peppermint, it was like a rule or something. I took one and unwrapped it but just held it. Out of the shiny yellow cellophane it looked like a large pill and I was loathe to trust it. "Santa?"

"Yes, Maureen."

"Where am I?" I asked after a few moments. His tone hadn't been questioning when he had spoken my name and that was quizzical. It was almost like he knew what I was going to ask. Oh, wait, he was Santa! Maybe he did. No, that rational part tried to argue, because that voice knew this man wasn't Santa but I was already losing the capability to hear it.

"St. Judith's."

Santa was really not helping. I frowned at him across the desk and started to think that maybe Santa was really an evil elf, dressed in a nice guy's body. The name of this place sounded familiar and I waited for cool voice to supply something else, but it seemed I was going to be silent to myself. "Why?"

Santa's smile faded just the littlest bit but he didn't really move. "You had an accident. Do you remember anything?" He pulled a long yellow legal pad towards him and then reached for a pen. He dotted some thing down, his slanted hand writting impossible to read at the angle I was in.

I shook my head, then went to brush the hair off my shoulders but it wasn't there. My hair, my one vanity was always long and to board straight to ever hold a curl, but now it barely touched my ears. Santa just kept smiling at me and I could feel my anger start to boil a little. What did he have to look so happy about? How was it fair that he was wearing a white shirt and a nice tie while I was in raggy pajamas. What right did he have to look so in control while I was struggling to remember my own life?

"You came here nearly a year ago, Maureen. You were in a bad car accident."

"So, I was hurt? This is a hospital?"

"Well," he drawled, while scribbling onto the yellow pad. "No. Not in the accident. But your husband was. And so was your baby. Don't you remember?"

Santa was still talking, witting and smiling but I couldn't hear him anymore. The words left his mouth like feathers but turned into boulders before they reached the edge of the desk, plummeting so that I didn't hear them. The rational voice, that cool detached part of me, tried to pick them up and make me see them but I turned away. I looked down at my hands in my lap, blinking in surprise at the hard round yellow disk in my hand. Butterscotch. Julianna had loved the taste.

Who?

Your baby, your Sunshine, your darling young daughter Rational told me. I hated Rational. And I hated Santa. I hated the butterscotch and I threw it with a cry of terror filled disgust. Santa watched it arch through the air before it landed with no noise onto the plush rug. He turned sad eyes onto me, pen poised. "Maureen. Why did you do that?"

I couldn't answer him, not yet. I was to busy watching the road. Didn't he know not to distract me while I was driving? "Lewie, hush. God, you see the snow! I have to be really careful."

"Maureen, my name is Rick. Rick Karnup," Lewie said, his tone patient.

"Shhh, Lewie! I have to be careful around these curves. Just make sure Julie is okay," I snapped softly so as to not wake the baby, the precious Sunshine. It was so dark and so cold, the ground covered in enough snow that spring seemed to be a fantasy, a bad rumor that you want to believe but never do.

"Maureen-"

"Sweet baby Jesus, Lewie! Stop! We will get there soon and then I will listen to every dumb lame thing you have to say, but for now just shut up!" I checked the rear view, for just a second to see if Julie, if Sunshine, was still asleep in her carrier.

Then the world was spinning and the moon was bouncing off diamond crusted hills. There were trees in the middle of the road, how's that for crazy? How is that for freaking nuts! I struggle with the wheel, commanding it to obey me while Lewie is telling me that I don't have to do this right now, that we had all the time in the world and I want to smack him. Doesn't he see the tress in the road, the fact that we are spinning in circles so fast that even a ballet dancer would be dizzy and Julie, Sunshine, is screaming, screaming, screaming. Now I am screaming, scared and spinning and then the world goes upside down and white. How's that for odd, how's that for just plain off the rocker?

We're upside down, and the whole world is dark but white and so cold, so cold and now there is no screaming. There's no noise but the sound of my own ragged breathing and then someone is shaking me. I think it's Lewie, telling me that we were fine, of course we were fine, we have to be fine!  But it's Santa. Santa had come to rescue us and I try to turn to look at Julianna, my darling daughter, my Sunshine but there is no car seat. That's odd but okay in a sense as there is no back seat. There is no car, and no snow, and I'm not up side down. "Maureen? Maureen. Maureen!"

I blink up into the face of the doctor and wipe at the tears I wasn't even truly aware of. Something want to come crashing through the veil but I don't want to see so I retreat away from it and Rational and everything that has to do with the Here, with the Now and even further back from the Then, from the Before. Santa nods, and just hands me a Kleenex. "You did very good today, Maureen. That's the most I think you've ever remembered. And you actually shared this time, really telling me about the accident. Do you want to talk some more?"

I shivered, shaking my head so hard that I swear I could hear my memories slushing in my head. Santa just nods, and pats my shoulder in a solid, comforting way. I stand on shaky legs when he reaches out his hand. We walk to the door where he converses with B3 quietly before she leads me off. I forget to tell Santa what I want for Christmas but I think he knows.

We enter the common room again and I sit next to someone lecturing to her stuffed pig. The little porker is dingy and smells a little like rotten milk, but it's also a little cute in a way that makes me want one. I want something to cuddle, something bright and yellow with bottle green eyes and chubby arms and legs. That thought makes me so sad that I don't argue with Blondie when she brings me my snack pack of pills. I take them all slowly, willingly giving up my hold on the Here, the Now.

But Santa said it would all be better. He promised. And who doesn't trust Santa?

Reviews

[Nicky Sin]

Very trippy and fun to read. I was definitly hooked and had to turn my music off because I was pulled into it. Amazing, great job!

[CarrieLynn {Chameleon A..]

very interesting piece..great write! :)

[KayOss]

Incredible. From the very first line, I was hooked into this. I love the way you let the reader experience things through her point of view. I love the vivid imagery, the description and the revelation. It all combined to create a very realistic and very interesting whole.

And what I could possibly be doing in a room so full of the smells of piss and desperation, of madness and shame that the yellowing white paint is peeling from the walls in long, suicidal strips.

This really stuck out at me. I love the metaphors and description here. You did a wonderful job with this part.

Overall, an excellent work. There are a few errors that need to be caught, but I enjoyed reading this and I am glad you shared it.