A Five-Minute Life

“Here,” I whispered. “She’s here.”

I wasn’t stupid enough to believe her doctors hadn’t seen these drawings, but why the fuck hadn’t they done anything about them? Didn’t this mean Thea was conscious of her situation?

It’s all right here. She knows what’s happening to her.

The thought sank like a stone in my heart.

“Jesus Christ.” Inhale. Exhale. I gripped the edge of the chair as twilight fell outside the windows. “She knows. She fucking knows.”

This was more than regurgitation. Had to be. Thea was there, trapped in her own mind, and had been for years.

Nurse Rita entered the rec room, this time with Nancy Willis clinging heavily to her arm—another resident who was suffering from permanent dizziness due to an injury sustained twenty years ago. Rita set the old woman down in a chair and brought her a set of dominoes.

“I’ll be right back, Ms. Willis,” Rita said, reading my expression. “Jim? You’re pale as a ghost.”

I started to show Rita the drawings but stopped. She’d seen them. She’d been working here for years too. Anger burned in my veins which meant the stutter was lurking.

“N-Nothing. I’m fine.”

She frowned but Ms. Willis dropped a domino on the ground and called for help to retrieve it. Rita left me to assist her so I could get to work. I was supposed to take out the trash. Do my job. Throw out all of Thea’s drawings.

Her cries for help.

I dumped Thea’s drawings into a trash bag but didn’t tie the bag. I lifted it from the can and gathered the ends in my fist to take outside to the dumpster.

What are you doing?

I had a vague idea I’d take the drawings and… what? Mail them to Thea’s doctor? Mail them to another doctor? A better doctor who would actually do something about the fact she was fucking trapped in five minutes at a time?

Outside, the air was thick and sticky; the summer sun brilliant in a clear blue sky. At the dumpster at the side of the building, I reached into the bag and grabbed three or four of Thea’s drawings, rolled them into a tube and stuffed it into my back pocket, then tied the bag and tossed it into the dumpster.

“Whatcha got there, Jim?”

Shit…

The dumpster lid slammed down, nearly smashing my fingers. I turned my back to it, my heart pounding as Alonzo approached.

“N-N-Nothing,” I said.

“Mighty hot out for chattering teeth.” He cocked his head. “Nervous? Show me this ‘nothing.’”

Now you’ll lose your job, you big dummy.

I inhaled, exhaled, and handed over the rolled-up drawings.

Alonzo unrolled the papers and tucked a cigarette in his mouth. “You an art fan?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“You mind telling me why you’re saving Miss Hughes’ drawings from the trash?”

I straightened, crossed my arms. If he was going to fire me, may as well tell the truth. “Didn’t seem right to throw them away.”

He nodded and rolled the papers up again. “Come sit.”

My arms dropped, and I followed him to a bench that faced the Blue Ridge’s west wing. Crickets chirped and flitted in the tall grass as Alonzo lit his smoke.

“The word chains, right?”