All the Trouble You Need by Jervey Tervalon

Author:Jervey Tervalon [Tervalon, Jervey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Trisha remembered writing a paper on the history of psychiatric hospitals. This hospital had to be “Bedlam Lite,” with its sturdy furniture and cheery tile and big-screen television; more a rec room in a college dorm if it wasn’t for the dozen or so glassy-eyed zombies watching television with rapt attention. Other than the one dark-haired, mushroom-pale man walking in tight circles angrily muttering, “Those bastards, liars, kill them all!” the room was calm and more sedate than she had any hope it would be.

Her father waited on the couch farthest from the psychiatric patients. She tried to look at ease as she approached him, but it disturbed her how he stared so fixedly at the ground. Only when she reached out for him did he notice her, and then it was with alarm. After slow recognition, he reached to embrace Trisha with unsteady eagerness.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, avoiding his eyes. At least he looked much better this time; much more animated than last week.

“Good to see you,” he said, warmly.

“We miss you, Daddy,” Trisha said.

“As you probably expect, I can’t wait to go home.”

“Yes, I’d want to go home too.”

“How’s your mother holding up?”

“She’s doing great.”

“I hope this move isn’t too much for everybody. It must be overwhelming.”

“No, it’s going okay. But I never imagined how much we have.”

“That’s your mother. She’s a damn pack rat.”

The “pack rat” irritated Trisha. She decided to bring up a subject she knew would sting him.

“Your lawyer called.”

He leaned forward and gestured for silence. Then he stood and escorted her to one of the unopenable windows.

“The lawyer is one of them. Whatever he says, don’t listen.”

“Mr. Johnson?”

“Yes! He’s in on it. That’s why I’m here. Too much is at stake. He’s in the plot against me.”

“Dad . . .”

“That’s why they have me in here. I’ve made plans. I’m not going to be an easy victim.”

Alarmed, Trisha remembered her father purchasing a shotgun last year.

He gestured for her to listen.

“Ask to speak to my doctor. Find out what you can.”

“Dad, I . . .”

“Do it!” he said, and walked away so quickly she didn’t have time to respond. He disappeared down the hall leaving her to wonder if he’d return. He didn’t. She sat there watching the patients watch television until she got the nerve to ask for his doctor. At the nurse’s desk she had to wait for the nurse, a heavy woman with a quick frown, to finish what seemed to be a very long personal call.

“May I speak to Dr. Seto?”

“I’ll see if he’s available,” the nurse said, more gruff by the minute.

“The doctor is coming out to speak to you. Please have a seat.”

After a forty-five-minute wait he finally appeared, an athletic Asian man who had the walk of a surfer. Trisha stood to meet him.

“Miss Bell?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. Seto,” he said, as they shook hands. “I’m glad you’re here. We need to discuss your father’s release.”

“His release?”

“Yes. He’s responding well to his medication. We have him on a low dose of an antipsychotic drug.

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