Eternally Internal

I find it funny how the sun is really just a gigantic ball of gas with the power to color anyone’s face to a fiery red by simply turning up the heat. I know a hand-full of individuals who have this same power. However, I hardly see or talk to these comical characters. It’s usually because I am all alone. Today I get to sit in the corner and witness the circus of crazy people who run wild outside. Sweet Anika, my day nurse, wheels me over to the window for a front row seat to this entertaining show. I watch as the younger ones use their energy by sprinting towards the fountain with the most ridiculous statue of a naked woman right smack in the middle of it. She is attempting to be modest by covering her breast with one arm while her bottom half is covered by a scarf of some sort. Water is spurting out of her mouth, which, of course, ruins the whole beauty of its realistic features. I start to laugh as the young ones rip off their white robes and jump in the water buck-naked and having a great time! One of them is even bold enough to steal a kiss from the fair, semi-naked fountain maiden.

It doesn’t take too long before Bob, one of the male nurses who compensates his lack of height with an excessive width, rapidly waddles after them. It humors me. Bob is one of those individuals who remind me of the sun. He’s full of hot air, and when he releases it, the faces of the other workers turn fire-engine red. I have only enough time to watch him be thrown into the fountain, face full of rage, before Anika returns with a tray covered by a mountain of mush that the workers here call breakfast. But my disgust for the meal soon gives away to delight as Anika bounces towards me. She has a spring in her step and her rosy cheeks reveal her happy youth. With her sprightly smile, she brightens up my day just by exuding pure innocence.

Plunging into the pile of mashed vegetables, Anika scoops up a spoonful of mush and gently slips it into my mouth. She starts humming an improvised tune and begins to tell me in a breathless way about her recent engagement to the man of her dreams. Both of us are so caught up in her fairy-tale that it takes me a few moments to realize the slop is running down my chin. Anika doesn’t notice it until it plops onto the floor. “Oops!” she chuckles and continues on with her story. I enjoy listening to her. She’s always happy.

Breakfast is over and all the other crazies enter my peaceful domain. Ralph is the first one to approach me and continue his daily routine of shouting, “Da Bears won again! Da Bears won again!” and slapping my hand that sticks up permanently in the air like a sore thumb. At least someone gets some use out of it. I watch him strut like he’s a macho man over to Big Joe, the huge African American janitor. Ralph says in a cool tone, “Hey, Big Joe! Guess who won again?” Big Joe is amused and says he doesn’t know so as to satisfy Ralph’s urge to tell him. “Da Bears, man! Da Bears won!” Big Joe then shouts enthusiastically, “Alright!” and gives Ralph a high-five. I like Big Joe a lot. So do the rest of us. We like him because he stands up for the weak ones. One time the workers invented the nickname The Veggie for me and he scolded them something hot. They’ve never called me that since. Now they just shrink before him, but everyone is the size of an ant compared to him. Big Joe just understands better than the rest of them.

      

Now it is Bonnie’s turn. Bonnie has a learning disability and never speaks proper English. She sheepishly creeps up to me and asks, “Have you saw Sammy? I coulda swored he was here. He always goes runnin’ from me.” Sammy is her husband who has been dead for 20 years now. She growls at my blank face and hollers, “Don’t go looking like I’s stupid! Say something to me!” My expression stays the same it’s been for 50 years. She starts crying and I feel terrible. Why is it that the crazies are the ones who can talk?

I’ve thought of my situation many times; being stuck in a body that doesn’t function. I think of it when there is no one in the room to focus on. I hate when I’m in this state. It’s so depressing. I fall into this kind of mental abyss of despair and have to drag my way out of it almost every day. I don’t know how I would have stayed sane without Lunar. She’s the raccoon that creeps in the window on random nights to sneak food to her babies. I’ve seen one of her babies before. It followed her and was a partner in crime; a bandit, if you will, with a black mask designed right across the eyes like Zorro. It seems she comes in at the perfect time; right before I break down inside myself. She saves me even though she doesn’t know I exist. I’ve persuaded her to glance my way a few times, even though she only does it to test the waters, but she’s decided I’m not worth being scared of. I suppose I could take her opinion of me in a positive or negative light, but considering there’s nothing to be done about my condition, I better accept the positive one for sanity sake.

 Oh, Lunar is a riot! Big Joe can’t figure her out because she’s out-smarted him! I know her secret, though. Her nightly scheme is to climb into the window and peek in; just to make sure there’s no one afoot to see her crime. When she feels its safe enough, she heaves her whole body, very similar to that of Bob’s, onto the window sill. With a precautionary stare down the hallway, she then leaps onto the floor with the grace of a mother doing her duty. In about ten seconds, she has scurried across the floor to where the big, green, garbage cans are and jumps onto the side of it like a cat. This knocks over the can and out flows the trash. Usually she’ll grab a half eaten apple, or some kind of other fruit, and carry it off before Big Joe ever reaches the door, but sometimes she’s a bit more daring and sinks her teeth into the meat left on a chicken bone or BBQ rib. It’s actually an amusing sight; especially Big Joe’s twisted expression. He never gets mad, though. He just laughs it off and commends Lunar for her ability to turn into a sly fox. She’s quite a clever girl.

           

On the nights I'm not witnessing Lunar work her twilight shift, I'm listening to David tell stories as a volunteer of the hospital. He’s about 19 and has a rather handsome mug. He reminds me of my son at that age. I miss Robbie. He hardly visits and when he does, he doesn’t speak much. He can’t find the right things to say mostly because he’s not sure if I’m there to hear them. I watch his forehead wrinkle up with agitation and confusion, which tears me apart between joy and pain. I love the sight of him, but not when he’s so conflicted because as a mother I should be his comfort. He looks at me and puts his hand, that large hand that once fit so perfectly into mine, on my knee. “I love you,” he says and begins to cry, but only slightly. He is a man now, after all, and I missed the beautiful transformation. I’m not blind or deaf, just mute. I see him and I hear him, but mostly I miss him. He sits right in front of me and I miss him more than when he’s absent. He’s so far away; or rather, I’m so far away. His tears fall in his lap and I’m dying to mop them up off his face. My tears are forever locked away in my mind. If only he knew. I’m there.  

Those are the hard times of the day. My heart is in pieces. I feel numb-- mentally numb. The burning ball of gas has gone to bed, and I don’t mean Bob. The starlight pours in through the window and casts shadows of different sizes everywhere. There’s one big shadow that catches my eye. It’s Big Joe. My heart lifts a little. He’s cleaning up the mess Lunar left only moments before.  Big Joe looks up from his sweeping and smiles at me with a wide, understanding grin. “You know,” he says, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you’re the culprit of this here crime, Miss Irene. Don’t sit there looking so innocent. I know your mind is still ticking. You see and hear everything that happens, and I’m sure you’re the one who is clever enough to wait till the night. No sirree, you can’t fool me. I’m the janitor, and the janitor sees and knows everything. I know you’re ticking. There’s nothing in the world more obvious than that.” He smiles again, but this time with his eyes. My heart laughs at Big Joe. He certainly understands better than the others.

© Mikal Minarich