Monday, March 23rd, 8:30 AM
Belmont Springs, Belmont MA
Callie
Callie stared out her window at the gently sloping emerald lawn, at the clusters of mature maples and sycamores framing ivy-covered red-brick buildings. Puffs of clouds floated across an obnoxiously cheerful blue sky, passing like sails at a regatta. For a disorienting moment, it felt like she was back at Philips Exeter, checking the weather before picking out the day’s outfit. But then she glanced down at the waistband of her sweats and remembered.
No drawstring. And no shoelaces on her Keds.
Despite the clever disguise, this was no prep school dorm room, and she certainly wasn’t here by choice.
She tapped a knuckle against the windowpane, getting the expected dull thud. Hurl a chair against the shatter-proof plastic and it would bounce right off. Not that she could lift the furniture, since even the smallest pieces were bolted to the floor. Then there was the ceiling-mounted camera, its wide-angle lens taking in every crevice of the room. Step into the bathroom and there’d be another one, discretely placed above the mirror – also shatter-proof. No curtain on the shower stall. No privacy here at Camp Belmont Springs.
But despite all that, the room still looked so… homey. Quilted blanket and throw pillows. Cherry-wood antique desk and matching chair. Idyllic New England landscapes bolted to cream-colored walls.
Each physical detail was designed to deceive its residents, to lull them into a false sense of normalcy, but the environment reeked of phoniness and rigid control. The television set broadcast only the approved content. The bookshelf held only the books they chose.
Callie grabbed one. “A Guide to Meditation and Self-Healing,” she read in disgust. How batshit nuts was that?
And these people expect me to open up and bare my soul? Yeah, right.
A light knock on the door drew her attention, followed seconds later by a crisp “Hello?” Sophie Choi, the psych resident who had introduced herself during last night’s whirlwind admission, was standing in the doorway.
“Good morning, Miss Perrin.” She closed the distance between them in two brisk strides. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”
Choi smiled brightly and extended a hand. Soft skin. Nice eye contact. Perfect white teeth. Silky fronds of black hair framing a flawless, caramel complexion. Callie took in the details of her new doctor’s fresh, pretty face and fought back a sudden wave of nausea.
“Oh, my goodness. Are you not feeling well?”
“It’s nothing.”
The doctor reached forward to offer support. “I’m not so sure about that. Maybe you should lie down for a minute.”
“Fine,” Callie murmured, pulling away. “I’m fine.”
Choi guided her to the mattress. “What you’re feeling is quite normal. Some of your meds can cause dizziness, especially if you’re not getting enough fluids. We took out your IV last night, so you may also be a little dehydrated. Here…” She pressed a call button concealed within the wooden bed frame. “Let’s get you something to drink.”
Callie perked up at the suggestion. “Coffee?”
“I’m afraid that’s not on the menu, but we can get you some juice, ‘kay?” Choi gave her a tight-lipped smile – the kind of condescending expression that plunged her stock instantly. “Would you prefer apple or orange?”
When a heavy-set nurse popped her head in, Callie mumbled that she’d like some water. Even the simple act of lifting the bottle to her lips felt Herculean, as if it were filled with lead, and her eyelids kept drooping shut. What the hell had they done to her?
“We’re adjusting your meds,” Choi said. “They had you on some pretty powerful sedatives at Mass General, so we can only wean you off slowly. Remember: forty-eight hours ago, you were still in the ICU. It’s amazing how far you’ve come in such a short time. You should be proud!”
Proud? Callie rolled her eyes beneath heavy lids, wondering if she’d really just heard that ridiculous word. Everything about this experience felt surreal. Part of her still expected to wake up any moment, back in Providence and late for her morning class. Was it French Lit or Twentieth Century Architecture this semester? She couldn’t remember.
“Anyway,” the psych resident continued brightly, “here at Belmont Springs, we believe in a combined approach to wellness. Medications are important, but they’re not enough. Over the next few weeks, you’ll be participating in several activities – things like behavioral therapy, nutritional and substance abuse counseling, even yoga. Here…” She picked up the television remote to flip on the screen. “You can find your daily schedule on channel three. Looks like you have your first DBT session this morning at ten. That’s a type of behavioral therapy. We –”
“Wait,” Callie cut in. “Did you say I’d be here for weeks?”
“Everyone’s experience is unique, Miss Perrin, so I wouldn’t focus on the length of your stay. What’s important is that we do whatever it takes to get you back on your feet, right?”
“But I just…” Callie heard the words catch in her throat and realized in amazement that she was crying. “I just want to go home. I shouldn’t even be here. I’m… I’m missing my classes.”
“I know.” Choi nodded, making the kind of deep, thoughtful eye contact they probably taught in shrink school. “I understand you want to get back to your life, and that’s a good thing. But you’re not ready yet.”
“How do you know that? You know nothing about me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know enough. Not yet. But here’s what I do know.” Choi settled into the desk chair. “Correct me if I get anything wrong. You’re twenty-one. A senior at Brown University, majoring in art history. Your real name is Callahan Perrin, but you’ve been admitted under a pseudonym to protect your identity. And that… well that’s because you’re famous.”
Callie turned away as if from an insult and sniffed into her pillow.
“Well, it’s true, right? I’m not that up on pop culture, but even I know who you are. You just arrived, and we’ve already dealt with hundreds of calls trying to confirm you’re a resident here. This morning, we even caught someone with a camera sneaking around campus dressed as security.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want you to know none of it matters. No one here cares who you are on the outside, Callie. What concerns us is that a few days ago, you tried to commit suicide and almost succeeded.”
Choi took a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not saying this to be dramatic. We all want you to get back to your life ASAP, but that’s going to take some hard work. You came within minutes, maybe seconds, of ending your life. If your partner hadn’t woken up when he did, if he hadn’t gone to the bathroom, well then you wouldn’t be here now. If you’d been submerged under water for one minute longer. If he hadn’t known how to administer CPR. If the EMTs hadn’t been right around the corner. If any of those things had happened differently, you’d be gone. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
When Callie didn’t reply, Choi glanced at her wristwatch, then stood up to smooth out her crisp white coat, signaling that empathy time was over.
“I know. It’s a lot to process. For now, let’s just start with a quick physical exam. One step at a time, ‘kay?”
After asking the standard set of shrink questions, Choi pulled out a stethoscope and completed her exam with a few quick, robotic motions. When she was done, she handed Callie a tablet computer with a thick, shatterproof screen. The clunky thing looked like it could stop a bullet.
Childproofed, she thought bitterly, for my protection.
“There’s a program on here labeled MSE. It helps us follow your progress, so please run through the questions before breakfast every morning. It should only take around ten minutes to complete.”
She placed the tablet on the desk, next to a lavish bouquet of roses. Yellow to signify friendship. Callie didn’t need to check the card to know they were from her agent. If Bridget stayed true to form, there’d be a fresh floral arrangement delivered daily, each one accompanied by another cheesy note of encouragement.
We all miss you!
Thinking of you, sweetie!
Just a little something to brighten your day!
Callie glanced at the long stems, noting they’d been stripped bare of thorns. What did they think she’d do? Scratch open her wrists?
Choi followed her gaze to the roses. “They’re beautiful. A lot of people care deeply about you, Miss Perrin. I hope you realize that.”
Callie murmured that she did, even though what she really wanted to say was that Bridget sent flowers to all her ailing clients, that the gesture was an industry standard and that she’d just pass on the extra expense in this month’s bill.
“I’m sure you have friends and family who are eager to speak to you,” Choi continued, backing up toward the exit. “Unfortunately, we don’t allow cell phones, but you can use the phone in our media room during designated times.”
“I won’t be taking any calls.”
“But your mother’s been trying –”
“I said I’m not taking any calls!”
Choi pursed her lips. “I understand how you feel right now, but that’ll change. It must. Family and friends are an important part of the recovery process. Everyone needs a support network.”
If Callie had been her normal self, she’d have pointed out that she was here, involuntarily committed to a psych ward, in no small part because of that ‘support network.’ But she wasn’t her normal self, not even close, so instead she just nodded sullenly.
Whatever you say, Robo-shrink. Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone.
“Oh, and one more thing.” Choi cleared her throat, sounding uncomfortable for the first time. “Belmont Springs is a teaching hospital, so most patients have a med student assigned to the team. Of course, given who you are, I’m kind of, um, assuming you’d rather not have one, which is totally your choice. Still, I’m supposed to ask.”
“That’s fine,” Callie mumbled, suddenly mesmerized by the laceless Keds encasing her feet. Drab, faded blue canvas. Snug and constraining, like a straitjacket for her toes. Were they even hers? She couldn’t remember buying the pair.
“Then you’d rather not be assigned a med student?”
“No. I want one.”
Choi paused for a long moment. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Truth be told, the last thing Callie felt like dealing with right now was some rando med student yapping in her ear. But Robo-shrink clearly thought having one was a bad idea, so…
“Sure.” She looked up defiantly. “Why not? No special treatment. I’ll take my med student, just like everyone else.”
***
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This was an interesting chapter. I'm not quite sure what to make of Callie. She seems to be like a lot of famous people: full of herself, suffering from self-entitlement, and determined to make the lives of those around her miserable.
The hospital appears to be either a psych ward or a drying-out facility for those suffering from substance abuse. Probably the latter. The mention of the suicide attempt could point to either one. Sad that she decided to end her life, but doing so with pills is very typical for women. Men tend to use firearms or something equally direct. More differences between males and females.
Her acceptance of the med student tells me she's going to try manipulating him/her. That would be pro forma for a celebrity in a teaching hospital. Should be interesting to see how it works out.
By the way, Lexan is the preferred shatter-proof plastic for windows in such facilities. It looks just like glass, but is so tough that it can deflect bullets, too.
I like how you've peppered the text with more East Coast locations, and it's fun to cherry-pick them. Philips Exeter Academy - I know of it, but never been there. Providence, been there. ;-) etc.
Lawrence
Callie is just so effortlessly interesting.
"obnoxiously cheerful blue sky", "Callie took in the details of her new doctor’s fresh, pretty face and fought back a sudden wave of nausea", "each one accompanied by another cheesy note of encouragement" - these capture her frame of mind very well. She's a complete mess, in sharp contrast to Jess in the previous chapter who has everything under control. Everything about Callie seems spontaneous and yet so chaotic and tortured.
Curious to know more about what makes her such a celebrity artist, and why she's so tortured.
Great job so far.
Hello, Gray. STRONG chapter. You easily have me feeling quite bad for Callie. I'd already thought that life had kicked around far too much, but now...:-( Choi's not offering many pleasant choices. I can't stand her one bit. Too full of herself. Too cold. Sheesh. Sometimes it seems "healers" are colder than the North Atlantic. Well, something tells me that over time Callie's going to be "compensated" for her crummy luck.
VERY intense and very readable!!
CHEERS!!
Mike
Thanks for spending so much time with this today, Mike! Your reactions are so helpful to me, especially since I hoped Choi would come across this way. She's another character who may surprise you though, if you get deeper into the story.
Cheers,
Gray
Lawrence Burdick