The Bright Unknown Read online

  Then Mother did what she rarely did anymore and began to hum. She was looking in our direction and even though she was just staring off into nothing, I knew she was humming for me. It reminded me of a lullaby, and the melody warmed the cold air as my breathing met the slow and even tempo. This mother of mine understood me better than anyone understood her.

  1939

  House of Lies

  On the front of the Willow Knob building there hung a small balcony. A Juliet balcony. It was really just there for looks—a facade—and nothing like the one the real Juliet stood on, lighted with hope and romance. The house itself boasted a lie to any traveler on the road whose gaze fell upon the beautiful architecture. No one could ever imagine how the inside of the building didn’t match the outside. But it was all lies. A houseful.

  The balcony was between tall, white-shuttered windows that were supposed to remain unopened. But when the day waned and the sinking sun stretched its pink fingers along the floor of the otherwise gray hall, it summoned me to come and open those windows.

  If Nursey caught me, she would do more than scold me. She’d refuse privileges, like limiting my visits to the dayroom to talk to the patients. Or disallowing Angel to come for a few days. If any of the other nurses or aides found me on the balcony, I would be threatened with solitary. Nursey wouldn’t let it happen, of course—but I would be punished nonetheless.

  But right now Nursey’s shift was finishing and Nurse Wilma’s was starting. She didn’t care much for me and would not forgive my infringing on rules. But I heard at supper that she was in the hydrotherapy instead of my hall. So I slipped out of the dining room—a small freedom Nursey allowed now that I was sixteen. The veil between my world and a patient’s was becoming thinner. And the more my independence grew, the more the routine of the life of a patient set in.

  And, like any patient, I was not supposed to leave the dining hall early or be on the balcony.

  The staff was afraid someone would fall, but the only way I could fall was if I jumped. But why would I want to jump, unless I wanted to die? In order to die I had to live, and I hadn’t lived yet. But my thoughts did run in constant circles as I imagined how I might find a way out. Nursey didn’t bring up a future outside of this building. I knew better than to believe that I had some magical father to rescue me or that Nursey would marry and then adopt me.

  It was up to me—and Angel—to figure a way out. To find out how to get around the laws and rules and locked doors.

  For now, though, rules didn’t keep me from following the bright path from the setting sun that cascaded down the hall. I wiggled my toes that were bathed in that light and followed the trail like a fairy path that led me to the balcony. Everyone else was finishing their meal—a meager serving of sliced potatoes and a watery tomato gravy. We were so overcrowded that I wouldn’t be missed right away as patients were dismissed to their rooms.

  I pressed my right shoulder into the warped frame to open the tricky window. It rattled, and I looked around. I heard the shuffling of feet coming toward the cross section of halls. The patients’ dismissal came quicker than I’d anticipated. With deft hands I pulled the window up far enough for me to slip through and then closed it, leaving an unnoticeable crack at the bottom that only fit my fingers so I could draw up the window when I was ready to come back in. I peeked my eyes around the edge of the window and watched.

  “Daggum taters again.” Flo’s ancient voice eroded the air as she walked through the hall. At eighty-two she was the oldest on the ward. She was as together as anyone I knew and had only been admitted because her husband took up with a floozy—that’s how she put it—and she’d tried to hurt him. She was as small as a person could be and she was always complaining about the food. “Soft enough to chew, though.” I could faintly hear Flo smack her lips around her few remaining teeth.

  Carmen’s loud voice agreed. She was about three times the size of any other patient. She ate whatever tiny Flo didn’t. While Flo fairly tiptoed, Carmen’s gait was more of a waddle. I loved them both.

  My mother padded along next, her eyes in my direction. She’d seen me even though her eyes hadn’t met mine. Her thinning gray hair hung down like a curtain over the sides of her face. I brought my finger to my lips. Why I did this, I didn’t know. Mother’s words were like tattered rags tossed about a room, and they were always in German. Mother was an immigrant.

  The photograph Nursey had given me on my fourteenth birthday flashed across my memory. Nursey had said little more than that it was in Mother’s personal belongings and that the people in the photograph were my grandparents. I kept the picture close, in the soft space between the pillow and pillowcase, and pored over it every few days. In the two years I’d had it, it had aged a decade from all of my handling. But when I’d asked about the hand on Mother’s shoulder, Nursey always said she didn’t know.

  Mother stood and stared as the other patients walked around her. When the aide came—another new one who would probably only last a few weeks—and took her arm to push her along, she pulled away. I winced when he grabbed her again. Her feet tripped as she resisted. Her face grimaced.

  “Nein,” Mother yelled. No. I knew this German word well. “Nein.”

  I turned away. I didn’t want to watch. I watched every day. I watched when she pulled her hair out from the roots and wiped off her bloody fingertips on the walls. I couldn’t do anything to stop her. The time I’d tried I’d ended up with the heel of her hand against my temple. I was six.

  Every time they strapped her arms down on her iron bed frame, I could do nothing but watch. When she woke in the dead of twilight with her demons dancing between our beds and a curdling scream that could terrify the ghosts in the graveyard—I could only watch. Only watch.

  Though I turned away this time, I could still see her in my mind and hear her in my ears. I would always see and hear her, even when I was as old as Flo. Would I still be here then, in this place of concrete and disappointment?

  I sank down and pulled my knees up to my chest. The flowering weeping willow’s boughs reached for me in the summery breath. It called out to me. Come to me. Let my delicate white tears fall over you. I extended my hand, even though I knew the branches were too far away to let their beauty cry over me. When the wind flowed again, delicate white petals fluttered through the air and landed next to me. I gathered several in my hand and rubbed a silky pair together. I repositioned to cross-legged and put the petals in the trough my gown made, making it almost pretty. I fingered the petals’ satiny texture and watched the willow stir in the wind and the veil of dusk that was slipping away to night. The low-hanging moon was tiny and insignificant, a reflection of me. It was almost invisible in the outlying hills. The blue hills became a jagged black, the outline etched against a burst of orange.

  I wished the beauty could wash my memory and make me as bright as my name. These were the moments that kept my own mind in one place. Reciting the bright and beautiful song didn’t help anymore, because there was little that was bright or beautiful about my life.

  A voice spoke behind me—close to the window, above my head. I stilled but leaned my ear toward the window.

  “Marry me, Joann.” I recognized the voice as Dr. Sid Woburn’s. He’d been the women’s ward doctor for most of my life. He was half handsome. He’d been injured in the war and had a deep scar that ran the length of his forehead. He looked stern and unyielding, though I had to admit he was gentler than Dr. Wolff and many of the aides. He and Nursey had been sweet on each other for years. How many times had he asked her this question?

  I’d overheard a great number of private conversations between them in my sixteen years. The older I got, the more important and serious these conversations became. Sometimes I heard the two discussing sex. My entire body warmed hearing their intimate words. I never intentionally listened in, but their conversations intrigued me. And this time I couldn’t get away.

  I risked a peek and saw him press in for a kiss.

&n
bsp; “Bank’s closed.” Her hand went to his chest. “You know my answer isn’t going to change, Sid.” Her sigh was so big I felt its weight. “I’m committed to her, and if we married . . .”

  “She’s almost grown—actually, she is grown. You’ve kept her safe and given her so much—even an education.” He paused. His voice was soft and tender. “You’ve taught her how to cope with her life here. What more can you do?”

  “It’s not enough.” A scuff of feet sounded and I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it didn’t mean they’d caught sight of me. “She doesn’t deserve to be here.”

  “Come on, Joann.” He hit the window frame. “Why are we talking about this again? She’s sixteen, and you’ve given up your life for her.”

  Nursey was crying. “But I feel so guilty.”

  “Listen, you can’t make up for her life here—or be responsible for her future. Eventually she’s going to have to stand on her own two feet. You did what you thought was best.”

  “So I should be more like your sister? Feel no remorse for giving up Angel for a life of luxury?” she scoffed. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Angel? His mother is Dr. Woburn’s sister?

  “We both know it was Howard’s doing. And my mother’s. Cynthia didn’t know better.”

  “You could’ve explained things.” Her voice rose an octave. “She was just plain selfish.”

  “She’d have lost everything if she hadn’t given him up—that’s not Cynthia. And you know that no one says no to Howard.”

  “Oh yes, the good doctor. Dr. Howard Long.” The words were doled out as though they tasted like ward food. “First do no harm, right?”

  The quiet was even heavier than the conversation.

  “I didn’t pull you aside to upset you. I need to talk to you about something else.” His tone had changed. It wasn’t thin, edgy, and stiff anymore; it was soft and thick. “He’s going to be transferred.”

  “Who?”

  “Angel.”

  I didn’t know how to take in everything I was hearing. Cynthia, Dr. Woburn’s sister, was Angel’s mother? And he was being transferred?

  “Oh, Sid, you can’t.” She spoke almost as loudly as my heart was pounding.

  “He’s nineteen, and we need space in the juvenile ward. He’s slotted to move to Orchard Row in the next few days.” The resignation in his voice was a restraint around my throat.

  “No.” Nursey’s voice dripped with venom.

  He wanted to take Angel away? Orchard Row was so full that it seemed that the walls swelled with men. Over the years I’d learned all about the other wards. Like the women, the men had two wards, each sex having one designated for the most violent patients—many were convicts. However, in Orchard Row, the nonviolent ward was only a bit less dangerous. Packed tightly, so many men would never be safe. Their yard was fenced—not open like ours. We had looked through the wooden slats as children. Eventually we were run off by an oversize colored aide yelling at us, but we’d kept watch from a distance through our childhood and knew it was a place where nightmares were born.

  “Orchard Row is the most overcrowded of all the wards. You know that. And it’s too dangerous for him. Are you trying to get rid of him? Is Howard behind this?”

  I was paralyzed. I wanted to punch something. I wanted to yell in agreement with Nursey. But I just sat there.

  This was a death sentence.

  When I heard a thud against the window above me, I peeked. Joann’s back was flattened against it as Dr. Woburn’s hands wrapped around her forearms. If either of them looked down, they would see my shoulder. I held my breath.

  “Get rid of him? The boy is my nephew. I’m not that cruel.” He let go of her and ran a hand through his hair. “Come on, Joann, he is years older than anyone in his ward. He’s not a child anymore—”

  “It’s not his fault that most of the children don’t live to be as old as he is. You know as well as I do that patients rarely age out of the children’s ward—they die there. But he has a chance right now, and we both know it’s because of Brighton. He’s everything to her. He’d be dead if it wasn’t for her. She’s kept him safe. He can read anything I give him with a magnifying glass—he’s so smart. Give them more time.”

  “More time for what? They don’t have a future, Jo. No one is coming for them, and neither of them can legally leave on their own. We can’t change those laws.” Whispers like yells heated the air. “It’s admirable that you’ve given them an education, but you’ve educated them for nothing.”

  My eyes fell shut. I pulled up my knees and wrapped my arms around myself. For nothing. All of this life was for nothing. I was nothing.

  “I had to give her something. She deserves more than this. They both do.” Her voice broke. “I was sure the laws would’ve changed by now. They are both mentally capable of leaving.”

  “The law says it’s for their next of kin to decide. Angel’s parents will never take him home and Brighton’s father is a criminal and—well, he’s— Besides, I don’t know if they could survive out there. Imagine that. They don’t know anything about the real world. Keeping them here is a kindness.”

  “Shh,” Nursey whispered. “Someone’s coming.”

  During a long pause I realized that the sun had relented and gone to bed and I was still out here. The moon had risen and enlarged, and the glittering stars were just beginning their twinkle. I didn’t know how such beauty could exist in the moment I was most lost in my life. Was it taunting me? Or was there some hidden message within it?

  I knew I needed to get back to my room before Nurse Wilma noticed I was missing. Maybe she already had. But I didn’t want to leave this hiding spot. I wanted to hear more so I could form a plan to keep Angel out of the men’s ward. But I felt paralyzed.

  “Listen, quickly, before someone finds us here. All of this is going to happen fast because the juvenile ward is being audited and we have to have everything shipshape—files and treatment plans. The state wants to make sure we’re not spending too much money.”

  Audits weren’t common, but they did happen now and again. I had been hidden on more than one occasion because of them.

  “Just change his age.” Nursey’s voice was insistent.

  “I’m done doing all that,” Dr. Woburn half yelled. “This isn’t the same as hiding Brighton. I could have my license revoked and never practice again if I keep hiding files or concealing patients or covering up for deaths. And Howard is part of the audit. He needs to transfer some children from his hospital here—they’re more overcrowded than we are.”

  “Is that what this is really all about? You’re worried that your brother-in-law will see Angel?”

  “It’s not about Howard. It’s about the auditor. Dr. Wolff won’t discuss letting Angel stay. He has to be treated like every other patient.”

  “But he’s not.”

  “Joann—”

  “Listen, let’s just take them both out. We can help them get jobs and—”

  “Joann, stop. We’d both be fired and we’d never work in the medical industry again. There have been too many cover-ups over the years that would surface. What happened with Mickey alone would be enough to ruin my reputation. I’m not going to lose my—everything—over a few mistakes with patients.” Dr. Woburn sounded angry now. “But the secrets end here. No more deceptions. He’s being transferred.”

  The silence was like liniment, slathering a layer of numbness over me. His actions had killed Mickey? Flashes of her smile and husky voice surfaced. The warmth of her lap and the sadness in her eyes.

  “When Angel was brought here, his grandfather was a ward doctor and his uncle was a resident doctor,” Joann spat back. “All these lies. I won’t stand by this.”

  “You’ve told plenty of lies. Don’t become self-righteous now. We both have a lot to lose, so you have a choice. Do you want Brighton to know all you’ve covered up? Do you want to lose her?”

  “Fine, move him,” Nursey barked.


  I heard someone approaching and the voice of an aide. And then they were gone and I was alone. All the weeds they’d just sown in my garden sprouted and the air was crowded with them.

  I stared at the night sky bursting with sparkling constellations. The summer I was eight Mickey taught me all about them. The Crux was my favorite because it was small and hard to find and only showed up for a short period. The presence of the little cross of stars comforted me. It reminded me of me. Small and, unless the stargazer knew exactly what to look for, easily overlooked.

  Somehow I was able to slip back to my room unnoticed. Whether it was luck or the God Rosina prayed to, I wasn’t sure. All that mattered was that I wasn’t caught. But as I curled up in bed, I couldn’t sleep. The confessions and private words replayed in my mind over and over again. As soon as I’d almost fall asleep, I’d startle awake. I’d seen plenty of seizures over the years—would the sanding of my heart and senses cause the shuddering to start? Would this be how my own life of insanity began?

  Patients often made up entire fictional worlds to lose themselves within. How nice it would be to lose myself in some wonderland. If I had to be trapped in the back acres of my mind, a false world would not be worse than my reality. But would it free me of all this confusion and disgust and the burden of being a prisoner? No.

  All I could think of was that I had to rescue Angel before he became just another patient like Mickey. He was all that mattered now.

  1939

  Bright-Yellow Canary

  A tremor of anxiety woke me the next morning. Angel. He was all I could think about. I couldn’t let go of what I’d heard. As much as I loved Nursey, I’d do whatever it took—even if that meant losing her. The air in my lungs was so heavy.

  I pulled myself up to sit on the edge of my bed, my thin blanket rumpled around me, my clammy skin and breathlessness catching me off guard. I’d never started a morning like this.