Artificial Beauty

Thursday.

I sat on my bed, thumbing through the stack of Tuesdays, listening to them.
Don’t worry, sweetie. He didn’t forget about you.
Tuesdays were nice. In that sort of we-both-have-nobody-else sad way. “Yeah…” I muttered to them.
“…And this is the residence hall. Your room is 249, right here.”
Stupid loud-ass nurses. What was she doing? I peered out the door. The nurse saw me, and said in that terrible nasally voice of hers, “Ah, yes. This is Famina. Fami, can you show this gentleman around? He’s seen the cafeteria and the residence hall, of course.”
“Leaving a patient in charge of a patient? Tut, tut, Vivian.” I said sarcastically.
She rolled her eyes and said, “You and I both know that you’re not like most of the patients.”
“Hmmm. Alright, I’ll do it, but you’re not allowed to call me Fami. Makes me sound like a five-year-old stripper. Now… What am I doing again?”
“You’re showing Gerard here around. He’s a new… resident.”
I laughed. “What a… nice way to say it. Yeah, yeah.  Hi Gerard. Come on.” I said, without looking at him, or even saying goodbye to Vivian.

Gerard

This place smelled awful. Like vomit, cleaning fluid and school cafeteria food. Why was I even here? According to the therapist Mom and Dad hired when Grandma died, I was “Mentally Unstable” and had “Anger Fits.” Whatever that meant.
So the nurse was the kind of woman who’s only in her mid-20s, but already looks older. Her hair was frighteningly orange, and she had long, acrylic nails to match. She showed me some stuff, and told me some rules. It sounded like school… except that we had no classes. Instead, we had “Psychology analysis” which was for the doctors to study, not us.
I was staring at the white-and-blue tile floor, thinking about living here when I realized someone was speaking. “Hi Gerard. Come on.”
At first I thought maybe it was a different nurse, but when I looked up, it was a girl, maybe Mikey’s age. She was pretty, in a worn, sort of melancholy way. Must be what happens when you stay in a place like this too long. “Um. Hi?” I said, unsure if I should talk at all.
She laughed under her breath, and her lips pulled into a tiny, amused smile. “Hi. What’re you in for?”
“You make it sound like a prison…”
She paused a moment, her face growing frighteningly serious for a moment. “It kind of is.”
— — —
“No!” I yelled, grabbing his hand in an effort to hold him back. He stopped, even though he could have easily broken free. “Let go.” He demanded with urgency in his voice. Click.
“I can’t let you do this… it’s not worth it…”
“I have nothing else, Famina.” Click, click.
You have me! I wanted to scream at him. What about me?! Tears rolled down my cheeks, hot and wet. The air felt sharp and real, as if I’d woken from a lifelong sleep in that moment.
He pushed me away. I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to watch. I stood crying, hoping he would come over and hug me, say he didn’t.
“Famina…” Frank ran from door that led to the stairs. “What’s …?”
“He’s gone…” was all I could manage.
And then it dawned on me. I could jump, too. Click, click, click.
Frank must’ve caught that, though. He pulled me in a hug before I could move.
“It’s not fair!” I sobbed, squirming against him. “It’s just not fucking FAIR!” Click, click, click, click.
I opened my eyes and looked over to my nightstand. There was a small plastic wind-up toy next to the fake flowers. Must have forgotten to put it back into my box. Click, click. I picked it up and put it upside down, stopping the constant clicks.
I lay on my back and stared at the ceiling. There was another noise now, I could hear it. I reflected back to my dream.  Every night, the same thing… relived. The noise got louder.
It took me a moment to realize what it was.
I was chanting “he’s gone” to myself. More tears flooded my eyes, blurring the ceiling. “Damn my vivid memory.” I cried out, and then flipped over, to cry into my pillow.

Friday

I looked distastefully down at my eggs. Nothing good could come out of powdered poultry fetus. Craig sat beside me, too wrapped up in the book I lent him to even look at his food. The new guy, Gerard, sat across from me. “I wouldn’t eat those.” I warned him as he scooped up some bright yellow eggs. He looked at them, and, apparently deciding I was right, picked up the toast instead.
“So…” He started, “how long have you… been here?”
“Me, fifty-five weeks. Craig’s been here for about fifteen.”
He groaned.
“Have any family?” I asked, “Or friends that would visit you? They usually help with living here.”
“Uh. Yeah. My parents probably won’t have too much time to come, but my brother Mikey might.”
I half-smiled. “My brother comes to see me every Tuesday. He brings me CD’s and shit.”
Gerard laughed. “Mikey probably would just bring me coffee.”
“Coffee is an important part of your daily nutrition.” I said, sounding like a commercial spokesman.
“What are you guys talking about?” Craig looked up from his book. “I heard coffee and CDs.”
“I was talking about how Frank brings me CDs, and Gerard said his brother Mikey would bring him coffee.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He handed me my book. “I’m going to go. I have to go to psych. See you guys later.”
“Bye.”
“Later.”
I turned to Gerard. “Have you met anyone else here? There are only like twenty residents or something, but they all are really cool.”
“No, not yet. I think I might have to get used to my room first.”
“Let’s see… it’s your first official day here. So you have psych at about noon… yeah it’s better not to start meeting people or anything until about Monday. Getting used to this place will take longer than that, of course, but by Monday the 12pm psych meeting will change to a better time. Trust me, it sucks going at noon.”
“Okay… are the doctors or psychiatrists or whatever here nice?”
“Uh. Well, they’re kind of annoying… but they’re not evil or anything.
He laughed. “Well I guess that’s a good thing.”

Saturday

Frank

I felt awful. I slipped out of the house while mom was taking a nap, and drove to the mall. I have to get Mina something really nice… I thought.
The one day of the week I have to see my sister… and I slept through it. I had been feeling extremely guilty about it all week. I walked into the mall and headed straight to the music store.
I was scanning over the albums in the store, trying to remember the name of the album I was going to get her. No. I forgot the one day I could see her. It called for something much better than an album.
I remember how sad she was that there weren’t any TVs at the institution, because they focused mainly on libraries and pools. Famina loved movies. She loved old horror movies, comedies, drama, ones with super deep makes-you-think-too-much-for-days plots, and ones with fluffy airheaded plots. She almost loved movies as much as music. I knew what I had to get her. I headed to the back of the store, to where they kept the little DVD players, and box sets.