Chapter 6 – but no power

They escort us from the room and down the hall. Dee Dee is led into the first door on the left. I’m taken to the second. I have no idea where Fisher and Mario have gone, but I imagine they’re separated too. The room I’m in is smaller than my closet. Against the wall, a padded table stands next to a cabinet. No sign of dead animals or wood, instead floor-to-ceiling, white paint.

The antiseptic-mixed-with-latex smell reminds me of doctors and medical exams.  The room has that getting-a-procedure vibe.

“Get undressed,” Rowena barks before she leaves the room.

“Where’s the phone?”

She slams the door closed without answering me. I squeeze my hands into fists to restore the circulation. Up in the corner, where a spider would crouch, a camera blinks its red eye at me. Coat hooks hang on the back of the door next to a steel sink. With all the electronics I’ve seen here, I wonder if they plan on implanting something under my skin.

I search the cabinet drawers.

Cotton swabs.

Tissues.

A box of latex gloves. I suddenly want to vomit again.

 “Get undressed,” Rowena’s voice booms through the room.

I spin around.

I’m alone.

A chill crawls up my arm knowing the ugly gestapo guard watches me. The last thing I want to do is undress, but I’m trapped. The thought of having that big ape come in and force me is strong motivation to get it over with.  

When I climb onto the exam table, my feet don’t touch the floor. I reach a couple times with the tip of the used boot, but the gap between me and solid ground had become too wide. The sooner I got this over with, the better. I remove a boot and sock and drop it to the ground. The empty thud echoes across the room. I repeat it with the second foot and feel a chill climb up my bare leg. Eyeing the camera, I remove my sweater keeping my camisole on. Then I wiggle out of my jeans and force myself to imagine I’m at a public swimming pool. My underwear is my swimming suit. I just need to trick my mind long enough to get to the phone. Soon as I call Uncle John, everything will be okay.

This is temporary. This is only temporary. Very temporary.

I feel stronger and fold my arms over my makeshift swimming suit with my sweater and jeans in my lap. I can do this. I can. Within seconds Rowena reenters the room. I’m relieved to see she’s not alone. Another female guard comes in carrying a khaki pair of pants and shirt.

Whew. They just want me to change into a uniform. They could have eliminated the stress by letting me dress myself instead of all the drama.  My relief is short-lived. The other guard sets the clothes beside me and heads toward the cabinet.

Rowena takes my clothes and checks my jeans for, I don’t know, weapons, drugs, other things she thinks I could have gotten through airport security. I’m ready to be sarcastic. I’m ready to laugh at her and call her stupid. I’m ready to do a lot of stuff. But I can’t. The other guard has arrested my full attention. She pulls out a pair of thin, latex gloves from the drawer.

I bite my lip and study the wooden floor. Thin black lines force their way through the grain. Some swirl dizzily around a knot. Few of them are straight or even or fair. I no longer feel eighteen and experienced. I push back tears like a punished child being scolded by an overbearing teacher. I want my daddy. Even though he approved for me to be here. Even though I gave up wanting his love. I seriously want it now. It’s all I ever wanted. All the acting bad in my life to get his attention wasn’t worth this. If I could take it back, if I could stop these guards from their plans.

Rubber snaps as the examining guard pulls the gloves onto her hands.

I tighten my toes into a fist and pray for a simple frisking. The oily smell of lubricant assaults my nose.

“Take off your underwear.” The glove-wearing guard points to the remainder of my clothes and I slip off the table in shock and comply.