The Ward Page 3

  “No.” Ben had this horrible feeling that when he went there tonight, Rene would have been transferred upstate in a whoosh of paperwork and with any red-tape or delays miraculously waved aside. “I’m going to ask her tonight. That’ll give her a little time to think about it.”

  No matter what she said, she would have a couple of days to change her mind. Which she would probably do with great regularity.

  In the end, it would be a crap-shoot as to how she would respond.

  He had to take the risk of talking to Doctor Gordon. He had to trust somebody, and he really hadn’t talked too much about it with her for fear of her fears. He didn’t want to scare her off just when she seemed to understand that this was real.

  He took another deep breath.

  “I was sort of wondering if you had any concerns.”

  That, was one very good question.

  Doctor Gordon leaned back, put his elegant Gucci loafers up on the end of his desk and put his hands thoughtfully behind his head. He looked Ben in the eye.

  Few of his patients had any self-esteem—a result of labeling, by themselves and others, something he had always hated.

  He despised labels, in fact, no matter how useful they might be at times.

  “Nope. Not really. I think this is a wonderful idea. Honestly, and know I really shouldn’t say this—so I won’t—but, ah, some folks tend to neglect their relatives, and their spouses, and even their children when they come here. I think you know that too, Ben. But ah…no, I don’t have any major concerns.” Other than the TV and her friends, Rene didn’t get a lot of stimulation in the Institute.

  Yet that stimulation was vital to long-term coping strategies. It would almost have to be better for Rene out there. Her family, dysfunctional to begin with in some ways, simply hadn’t been able to cope with her care, and yet they still wanted her to be safe. They were overprotective in some ways, in his professional assessment. She would be more challenged in the real world, and she obviously needed something the Institute hadn’t been able to give her. If Rene had the right person to care for her, to work with her, it could possibly work.

  Ben nodded.

  “That’s more or less what I was thinking.”

  Thanks for the vote of confidence. But the doctor didn’t say it aloud.

  Ben screwed up some more nerve.

  “Hopefully that would be this weekend. Friday night. Ah, like after I get off work.”

  Doctor Gordon pursed his lips, nodded and said nothing. He glanced at the clock. He had a long day ahead of him, and this might be one of its brighter moments, so he savored it for all that it was worth.

  Ben and Rene. Rene and Ben. Interesting.

  “I’m in love with her.”

  Doctor Gordon snickered in spite of his training.

  He almost said it: ‘you and me both.’

  He stopped himself in time.

  “You finally figured that one out, eh?” That was a better way of putting it.

  Ben’s face slowly turned red from the bottom up and the doctor finally did let go with one good chuckle.

  It’s not like everyone in the place couldn’t see what was going on. Ben blushed furiously when the realization hit home.

  Then it was his turn to chuckle, sounding perhaps more relieved rather than confident.

  But the doc’s attitude was a good sign.

  ***

  Ben was in the ward at the appointed hour. Rene had packed a small bag. She was sitting on the end of her bed, looking scared.

  She had her hat, her boots and her winter coat on, and she was wearing a white blouse and blue jeans that still had small creases in them from being left folded in a drawer too long. Her scarf was wrapped around her neck. Rene smelled heavenly, and yet it was basically just soap and water and toothpaste and deodorant.

  It sure smelled different from the day-job.

  “Ben!” Her face lit up but he could tell she was still scared.

  She leapt up and hugged him fiercely. Never had he felt anything like it. Maybe he was a little scared too.

  The moment of truth had arrived and he wondered if she would balk. The thing to do then would be just to accept it as gracefully as possible and back off. Try again later. He wasn’t giving up. Not in a million years. He gently peeled her off of him.

  “Hi, Lover. Are you all set to go?” He picked up the bag. “Put your gloves on, it’s cold outside.”

  She stood and it certainly appeared she was going with him. He took her by the elbow and gently steered her out, closing her door behind. It seemed odd not to have to lock a door around here. No one really owned anything in particular in that place. There was no place to hide anything and no way of sneaking it out.

  The bus would be along any minute. They had to get down there. Otherwise, it would be twenty minutes waiting in the freezing cold before the next one came along.

  ***

  Doctor Gordon was stuck in traffic, on his way to do the evening rounds at the Institute. Like many an art, and surely psychology was an art, it was also a full-time job. His patients, or anyone really, could call him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and expect to get an answer.

  His wife had given up on all hopes of privacy or getting him to take a weekend off long ago.

  Now she just lived with it.

  He had his cellular phone up to his ear as the BMW sat, purring quietly behind a dump truck that was half in one lane and half out of the other. His windshield wipers were clapping out a tempo…some song on the radio.

  “Hello. Doctor Gordon here.” He had no idea who was on the desk tonight. “I may be a little late, but not too much I hope. Who’s this?”

  He’d been tied up in departmental meetings all day and at some point a man had to eat. Once in a while he made a special point to eat some real food, and so he made the mistake of leaving the building in light flurries and sleet. The squalls were getting worse.

  The roads were miserable, and yet he was barely ten minutes up the road, at least in good weather.

  “This is Amy Bedard. What’s up, doc?”

  “Ah. Nurse Bedard.” He spoke through a brief grin at her little jibe. “Did Rene Silvers sign herself out as planned?”

  “Ah, yes, doctor, she did.” Nurse Bedard checked the log. “She went out at four forty-seven p.m.”

  “Excellent. Good for them.”

  “Yes.” There was a smile in her voice. “Try not to worry, Doctor.”

  But he would, of course.

  “Okay. It’s possible I’ll be in at my usual time—I hope.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  With someone like Ben, who had simply run out of money, and stopped taking his meds, you picked them up, dusted them off, and set them back on their feet again. Ben wasn’t stupid, and he was a pretty responsible person. On the other hand, he needed those medications. It was no wonder he ran into trouble. The key thing was for him to keep working. In this economy, with his skills and spotty work history there would be some obvious challenges.

  With Rene it was a different story. One had to wonder how it would go, but having someone around that loved you was important, and two heads were always better than one when it came to running a household. It was a question of how much support was available in the greater community. This was something he had spoken of often, publicly and otherwise, sometimes even to some avail.

  He sighed, deeply.

  “Sometimes…sometimes there’s just nothing more you can do, Doctor.”

  The nurse was right. Traffic slowly began to move up ahead, what little he could see of it.

  The dump truck eased over some more to the left. He could see a clear lane just ahead of it.

  There came a point when there was nothing more you could do. Ben would be starting over from scratch.

  Rene, if she found the courage, would be starting over from scratch.

  They were luckier than some.

  That was the hell of it, sometimes.

  Sometimes that w
as the only answer you had, at the end of a long and busy day.

  It was the only answer you were going to get.

  End

  About the Author

  Constance ‘Dusty’ Miller has written fiction, non-fiction and worked for newspapers and magazines, even working for a brief stint as sports editor of a small-town weekly. She likes to make people laugh as well as think. Her erotica has strong qualities of literary romance. Out of work and recovering from a life-threatening illness, someone suggested writing erotica which she initially rejected for lack of confidence. But love makes the world go around, and Dusty can no longer deny its pull. Dusty squeezes a little writing in between raising a daughter and building up her business.