Sarah Vaughan is Not My Mother: A Memoir of Madness (22 page)

“Now was a good time to come,” Robyn says, “and you've picked some great practical clothes.”

“Yeah, I don't think I've forgotten much.”

“Well, they'll let you out, sweetheart. It's all right.”

“Yes,” I say quietly.

We go through the checkout and the clothes are cheap, about seventy dollars all up. As we drive back to the ward Robyn asks me if I would like to have a drink or an ice cream. I understand that she is trying to be nice but I say, “No thanks.” We get back to the ward and I say, “Thank you” and leave her at the nurses' station.

Waris comes in and asks to see what I bought. I take out the clothes and lay them on the bed. “Oh, Robyn was right, you have bought well, just the things you need to keep you warm, and those singlets will look great with your jeans.”

“I forgot to buy a bag,” I say.

“Don't worry, I'll sort that.”

“I just can't fit everything in my backpack.”

“Darling, don't worry. Everything will be all right. Maybe come get your pills and have an early night.”

I follow Waris, get my pills and go outside for a smoke. I walk along the grass and the voice says, “You will never be coming back here.” I remember that I've heard this before. The voice sometimes repeats old phrases such as, “You will never see this person again,” and next thing the person walks through the door.

The voice tells me to walk up to the glass door, where I can see my reflection. I stand and stare, fixated on my eyes. The voice tells me I have had thirty-six previous lives, I'm a dignitary, and I shouldn't stick needles in my skin. My face then morphs into a pig and the voice says, “This is what people turn into when they go to hell.”

The image changes. Now my face looks hairy, like a caveman's. I keep looking at the image. I change into a young man with brown hair, bending over a log. A swastika is being carved in my back. The voice says, “You were Jewish in a previous life and you were killed by Hitler. You come into the world when it needs you.” I turn away: I have seen enough.

I get into bed and lie waiting for the sleeping pill to work. I'm not disturbed by the images I have just seen. I casually say to the voice, “So what am I doing in this life?”

The voice replies, “You write the truth of the world as you see it.”

As I start getting sleepy I think about the truth. I pick up my Bible and look at the old prophets. The voice says, “The world needs a new one because no one believes in God any more, which is why they hurt you: they don't want you to get away.”

I sit and reflect through my distorted mind on the things that have happened to me and agree with the voice. It says, “People try and make you like them so they can keep going along in their ways.” I believe every word of this. I close the Bible, seeing it as something that can be used against me.

Waris comes in. “You're awake. If you want one more you can head out now.”

I get out of bed and put on my new hoodie. I stand in the smokers' room and look around at all the used dirty polystyrene cups. I don't pick them up as I normally would: tonight the idea repulses me. I smoke quickly and get out of there. I walk to my room feeling good that this is my last night here, and because the voice tells me I have a job to do.

13

 

I wake up early and go and check the clock. It's five a.m. I lie in bed and ponder my day and how this is perhaps the last time I will have to lie in a bed here. I get excited about seeing Lester as I suspect I will never see him again. It's something I have become good at over the years, picking up friends and then dropping them because my life moves on. In the real world Lester and I would separate naturally anyway, given how different we are.

I go out to the smokers' room. Lester's by the window. “Oh babe, you haven't gone yet.” He digs into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper with his number and address on it. “Can I have yours? I've given you mine in case you get into trouble; you have someone to ring.”

I am touched by his gesture. “The same goes for you,” I say. I make myself a coffee and sit with Lester. I watch the rain and walk out in it and feel it as it touches my face. I come back in and say, “We are lucky to have water.”

Lester laughs and says, “Show us your rain dance.”

“Oh shut up, show us yours.”

I walk out of the room to change my clothes as they are wet. I have a shower and get ready for the day. Waris comes in while I am getting changed. “Ah, there it is, couldn't find my sock. How are you, Waris?”

She looks slightly stressed. “We travelling today.”

“Yeah, cool, I like planes.”

“We are leaving here at nine o'clock. I want you to go and get some breakfast so we can be on time at the airport. Your father will kill me if we miss that plane.” I laugh at the way Waris says it.

Fiona is at a table by herself with a coffee.

“When are you leaving?” she says.

“About nine. Feels strange. It's all happened rather quickly. Going to miss you but I've been here a while; I think it's time to go. Hopefully I'm not down south too long.”

“This place isn't going to be bearable without you.”

“Oh, I'm sure you will get used to it, plus you won't be in here much longer.”

Fiona starts to look really down. I suggest we have a cigarette and she nods her head. We sit on some seats outside sheltered from the rain. We look out at the dilapidated garden and grass. They've seen better days. We don't say much, just sit and look. I don't really know what to say to make her feel better, but time's marching on and I know Waris will be panicking if I'm not ready.

“I've just got to straighten my room so it's ready to be left,” I say. “You want to come?”

“No, I'll be fine. I'll just sit here.”

“Okay, I'll be back soon.”

Somehow I doubt I will be. I go to my room and walk past Waris.

“MaryJane, you can't sit out there all morning. We're leaving.”

“Okay. I need another bag.”

“It's on your bed.”

I go to my room and pack the bag with my clothes and put my books in my backpack.

“Right. You ready?”

“Sure!”

“I hope you've said your goodbyes. No time for any more.”

“Okay.”

I don't feel like saying any more. I walk past the nurses' station and wave and that's about it.

 

Waris and I walk through the day hospital out to the waiting cab. Once we're in the cab she calms down a little.

“Why are you so stressed?” I say.

“I just wanted to make sure I was getting you out of here. You know, MaryJane, I hope this is the last time I see you. I hope you can get to this place and accept the help they offer.”

Somehow I doubt they will be able to help me, I think to myself. Judging by my last stay they're just strict and hardline. I don't say this to Waris.

We get to the airport and line up at the Air New Zealand counter. Waris asks me to take off my sunglasses. I have taken to wearing sunglasses inside, not to be cool but because I find light harsh. I also fear that people will spray poison into my eyes.

I look down at the ground and the voice tells me to keep the sunglasses on. I turn to Waris and say, “No.”

“They need to see if you match your ID.”

I take them off briefly, then put them back on. I check in my one bag and carry my backpack. We walk through the airport to the food court. I start looking judgementally at people. The place is filled with men in suits and women who look corporate. I'm miles away from their world.

Waris says, “Darling, did you eat breakfast? We have time if you want something.”

“Ah,” I say, looking around. “I'll get a coffee, a real one.”

We go over to the counter and order. Waris asks for a muffin. We walk to the gate and sit and drink coffee while we wait. Waris gives me the muffin and says, “It's a while 'til lunch and I doubt you've eaten breakfast.”

I eat the muffin, which tastes good. It makes me feel good, gives me a sense I have a normal life and am independent.

Waris says, “All right, that's us boarding now.” I haven't noticed that a queue has grown outside the gate. We line up and I look around at all the corporate people boarding the plane.

“Are you all right?” Waris says.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

We get on the plane and sit about halfway down. Waris gives me the aisle seat and sits in the middle one.

I say to her, “Do you think we'll be able to go into town before we go there?”

“No,” she says.

“Oh, okay. I just thought we could have McDonald's.” I haven't quite tuned into the reality that I'm going down to Dunedin to stay in a hospital, not for a holiday. Waris will just be dropping me off and leaving.

“Guess when I get there I will have to stay there, eh?”

Waris looks at me and smiles. “You will be fine, darling.”

I look out the window and the plane starts moving. As we speed down the runway the voice says, “You're never coming back here. You will never see these people again.”

Waris is reading a magazine and doesn't notice me talking to the voice. The guy beside her is staring at me. I look away and look out the other window. I lean forward as the plane takes off—someone once told me it gives you a rush. I don't feel anything.

Waris says, “I have your hearing aid. You should put it on when you get there.” She pulls out the hearing aid. I nod and say, “Maybe.”

The flight to Dunedin is as about an hour and a half. I fill my time by staring at the people on the plane and writing in my book. The plane lands and we file out and go and retrieve the bag, I feel thirsty so I get a Powerade from a vending machine.

A car is waiting to take us to Ashburn. We get in the back seat and Waris gives me my hearing aid. She says, “I'll give them your passport to keep safe.”

I start getting anxious. I say quite forcefully, “No, I'll hold on to it. I will keep it safe in my bag.”

She gives it to me and I put it in the inside zip pocket of my backpack. Don't want to be trapped in Dunedin with no passport.

 

It's a thirty-minute drive to the hospital. When we get there we drive down a long tree-lined lane. It feels as though we've arrived at a resort. The car pulls into a car park and Waris says thank you and so do I.

Waris tells me to wait outside while she goes inside to Reception. There are some tables on the lawn. I sit at one and look around at the expanse of neatly mown grass with huge trees edging it. Some of the grass winds around corners. I think how different it is to being in the ward, where the patch of grass was four metres by three. This one seems just short of a rugby field.

I can't remember much of my previous stay here. I just remember I didn't know it was a psychiatric facility, and every time I met somebody I felt as though I associated them with someone I knew. Even though the place is visibly nicer than the ward, I decide it's just a hotel for nutters who can't handle the real world. A guy walks past in jeans and a puffer jacket and says, “Hi.” I look at him and say nothing. I think to myself, why does he need to hide in these hills? The voice says, “You won't be here long.”

Waris comes out. “Okay, we check in now. You will have some forms to fill out.”

I get out of my seat slowly and say, “What kind of forms?”

“It's an admission form.”

“Hmmm.” I make a suspicious grimace.

We walk in the door, which opens automatically. To the left is Reception and straight ahead is the waiting room. We don't go to the waiting room. We go to the right, down a small corridor, to a room where a woman is sitting behind a table, rustling papers together. I don't look at her. I look out the window and see some trees and more grass. I don't remember coming into this room on my last visit.

The woman introduces herself as Anne. I'm not interested in meeting her or answering any of her questions, but Waris tells me to sit down so I do. Anne gives me a form to fill out and I say, “I don't want to answer any of your questions.”

“MaryJane,” Waris says sternly, “it's part of the admission process.”

I don't like Anne and I don't like the way Waris talks to me, but I know the voice will back me up later so I decide to fill out the form. I don't answer some of the questions as I think they are none of their business. I get it all done and Anne says, “I will show you to your room. Most people are in groups now so there won't be many people about.”

I remember these groups from my last stay. There were groups of all kinds, groups for people with drug and alcohol abuse problems, groups for people with anorexia, and groups for people with anxiety issues. I didn't attend them because the medical team could never figure out what was wrong with me. I took that to mean there was nothing wrong with me.

We walk down a corridor, past a little library and a dining room that has long tables and art on the walls. The room has a peachy pink hue and carpet on the floor, not lino like the ward. We get to the end of the hall and go left. I remember this is where the eating disorder wing was, and where people would go if they weren't there for drug and alcohol addiction.

They take me to my room, which has the number 1 on the door. I remember that I didn't stay in this room on my last visit but became friends with someone in this room. The room is small. It squeezes in a bed and a cupboard and some drawers, but there's not much space for anything else. There is a heater attached to the wall, and the bed has a proper duvet, not just a sheet.

Anne leaves us. Waris says the place seems nice. “Yeah,” I say. I am still holding a grudge about having to fill out the form.

Waris says, “Well, I'd better go and let you get settled.” She puts her arms around me and hugs me. “You'll be fine here, darling. Just relax today and take it easy.”