After Hours (InterMix)(4)
Salary, I reminded myself. Insurance. And cheap rent, for as long as I could stand living in the drab little apartment I’d been offered, in the transitional residence just across the road. It primarily housed adults who were enrolled in or had completed programs at Larkhaven, a stepping-stone toward truly independent living. I’d been sent photos. Its walls were painted cinderblock, the space tiny, and I’d be sharing a communal bathroom and kitchen. In all likelihood it would feel far too much as though I were going home to another ward, after I’d clocked out of this one.
“Shouldn’t he be supervised?” I murmured to Dennis, staring at the lone resident and trying to guess his diagnosis.
Dennis laughed, freeing a clipboard from a hook on the wall. “That’s not a resident. That’s Kelly.”
A frown tugged at my lips as I processed the nested facts: he wasn’t a patient, and he had a girl’s name.
“Kelly Robak. We call him ‘the Disorderly,’” Dennis went on, gaze skimming his clipboard. “He can wrestle down a psychotic like nobody else. Of course we like to have three men on hand for the job, but he’ll do on his own in a pinch.”
“For sedation?”
He nodded. “De-escalation’s always best, but failing that, we’ve got Kelly. You two’ll be working together plenty.”
I eyed my new colleague with guarded curiosity, realizing that at some point in the indeterminate future, Kelly Robak and his beefy arms and shaved head might be the only thing that stood between me and a grown man in the throes of a violent psychotic episode.
“I hope he’s good. Why isn’t he wearing scrubs?”
“He’s the best. So good we let him wear what he likes. And he likes gray, to keep himself on par with the patients. I wish he’d just get psych tech certification already, but he seems to prefer to keep his role as minimalist as possible. I’ll introduce you.”
Dennis set his clipboard on the desk and unlocked the metal door that separated the nurses’ station from the lounge with a tap of his keycard. It locked behind us, the sound heavy and hard and confident. Kelly Robak’s body looked much the same.
“Kelly.”
He turned at his name and stood, meeting us halfway across the room.
Up close I saw the gray he wore wasn’t a uniform, after all, or rather one of Kelly’s own making—thick canvas pants and a tee shirt, the latter snug not for stylishness, I suspected, but to give his charges as little fabric as possible to grab hold of. Same strategy with the hair. I saw scars on his head, small streaks of white skin where his brown hair hadn’t grown back so densely. From fingernails? I wondered. Or from broken bottles in rowdy bars, off the clock? He looked the type, though looks occasionally deceived.
“Kelly Robak, this is Erin . . . sorry, Erin. I’m hopeless with names.”
“Erin Coffey,” I supplied, and Dennis slapped his forehead to say, duh.
I accepted Kelly’s shake. His arm was a huge python, massive hand swallowing my tiny, mousy one whole. He gave it two firm, businesslike pumps, and his warmth lingered long after he let me go. I rubbed idly at my knuckles, noting the bruises decorating Kelly’s arms, like smudges of paint, yellow and olive and dark purple.
“Our new LPN,” Dennis added.
Kelly nodded. “Welcome aboard.” His voice befitted a man of his size, the words dark and deep from tumbling around his broad chest. He made me feel small and vulnerable, dependent. Not sensations I liked, but given our relationship they seemed somehow essential. After all, this was a man who’d keep me from bodily harm—if not emotional damage—if this job did indeed seek to break me. I didn’t like feeling reliant on men, but concessions could be made, considering the context.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
A nurse arrived, then a pair of orderlies in mint green scrubs, toting paper cups of coffee.
Everything looked like a weapon to me—pens to stab, hot drinks to scald, drawstrings to choke, just about anything a ready projectile. But they seemed bored, if anything. I was introduced and their names and titles immediately fell out of the back of my head, so preoccupied was I with the immense mistake I must be making.
No. Not a mistake, merely a challenge. With training and patience, I could do this.
Another nurse arrived, somehow managing to look harried and tired at once; a doctor in a white coat, and then another; then two fresher faces who must be just coming on duty, both orderlies. I forgot all their names as well.