The Law of Nines (Sword of Truth 15.50)

“You need to sign your name and write down the time,” he said under his breath. “Sign your name on the line below mine and copy the time I put in.”

Alex watched her sign her name. He hadn’t known her last name before. When she had finished he slid it back across the counter to one of the nurses on duty. The big, hunched orderly spotted the two of them through the large window in the pharmacy and came out to greet them.

“Alex, what have we here?” Henry broke into a rare grin as he stared at Jax.

“Henry, this is Jax, my fiancée. Jax, this is Henry.”

She didn’t blanch at the size of the man the way most people did. “Nice to meet you, Henry.”

Henry smiled at the sound of his name coming from her lips. “I had begun to worry about Alex, but I can see now that he was just waiting for the right woman to come along.”

“You have that right,” Alex said. Eager not to be pulled into a

“How’d you two meet?” conversation, he changed the subject. “How is my mother doing?”

Henry shrugged. “Same. You know the way she is. At least she hasn’t been causing a ruckus lately.”

“That’s good,” Alex said as he followed Henry to the solid oak door leading to the women’s wing.

In her sweep of the area, Jax noted a man—a patient—staring at them through the little window in the door to the men’s wing. She turned back and watched as the orderly pulled his keys out on the cable extending from the reel attached to his belt and then unlocked the door. He ducked and glanced through the window before tugging open the heavy door.

“Your mother was in the sunroom last time I did rounds. You two have a nice visit.” Henry handed Alex the plastic key for the buzzer. “Ring when you’re finished, Alex.”

Alex had probably heard the man say “Ring when you’re finished” a few hundred times. It seemed he should realize that Alex would know the routine.

Jax glanced at the varnished oak doors to each side as they made their way down the long corridor toward the sunroom. He knew that she was calculating every threat, watching for any source of trouble. Of all the places that concerned him, Alex didn’t really think this was a place they had to worry about. Still, Jax’s attitude was making him jumpy.

“We’re locked in here?” she asked. “There is no way for us to get out on our own if we have to?”

“That’s right. If we could get out, then so could the patients, and they don’t want that. We have to go back out the way we came in. There’s a fire escape that goes downstairs on the side of the building,” he said as he gestured surreptitiously ahead to the fire exit, “but the door is locked. A nurse or an orderly would have to unlock it. There’s a stairway in the back of the nurses’ station. It’s kept locked along with the elevator.”

When they reached the sunroom, Alex spotted his mother alone on a couch against the far wall.

She saw Alex coming. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she recognized him.

29.

HI, MOM,” ALEX SAID in a sunny voice as he came to a stop before her.

She was wearing powder-blue pajama pants and a flowered hospital gown tied in the back. He sometimes brought her nice things to wear but she rarely wore them. She was seldom connected to reality enough to be aware of what clothes she had put on, or to care. On the occasions when she had been aware, she had told him that she was saving her good clothes for when she got out.

Some of her lack of interest in what she wore, he knew, was her mental condition, but a large part of it was the result of the drugs. It was the Thorazine syrup they gave her that left her so heavily sedated, largely indifferent to what was going on around her, and made her shuffle when she walked. It weighed her mind down and made her seem twice her age.

Fortunately, they had arrived not long before she was due for another regular dose of medication. Alex had learned over the years that he had the best chance of seeing her a little more aware when the drugs had started to wear off a little before it was time for her next dose of medication. He often wondered what she would be like, how much better she might be able to communicate, if she were not on such powerful drugs. It was frustrating in the extreme not to be able to have a normal conversation with her.

Alex had often asked the doctors if she couldn’t be taken off the Thorazine, or at least put on something less powerful. Dr. Hoffmann, the head psychiatrist at Mother of Roses, insisted that in her case there was no other antipsychotic drug that was as effective. He claimed that it was the only thing powerful enough to suppress her violent psychosis. He said that it was all that was keeping her somewhat human, keeping her from being a raving lunatic.

Dr. Hoffmann had said that he was sure Alex wouldn’t want that for his mother, nor would he want to see her physically restrained twenty-four hours a day. He’d said that he was sure Alex would want her to have as much human dignity as possible. The drugs, he said, were what made that possible.

Alex had never been able to argue against that.

His mother rose from the worn-out brown leather couch. She didn’t smile. She almost never smiled.

She took in Jax with a quick glance and then frowned up at him. “Alex, what are you doing here?”

Alex was gratified that she not only remembered his name, but used it. She almost never did that. He wondered if maybe Jax was having a positive influence. He hoped so.

“I came to visit you. I wanted you to meet—”

“I told you to run and hide. Why are you here? You should be hiding.”

“I know, Mom. You’re right. But I had to come here first.”

“You should be hiding from them.”

Alex gently grasped Jax’s elbow and guided her forward. He realized he had butterflies. He wanted his mother to like Jax.

“Mom, listen to me. I want you to meet my friend. This is Jax. Jax, this is Helen Rahl.”

Jax extended her hand. “I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rahl,” she said with a warm smile. “Now I know where Alex got those penetrating gray eyes of his.”

His mother looked down at the hand for a moment, then took it. She put her other hand over the top in a less formal manner.

“You are Alex’s friend?” she asked without releasing Jax’s hand.

“I am. We’re good friends.”

“How good?”

Jax smiled. It was a broad, genuine smile. “I care for Alex a great deal, Mrs. Rahl. That’s the truth of it.”

“Jax is about as good a friend as anyone could have,” Alex put in.

His mother stared at him a moment. “You should be hiding.” She pulled Jax closer by her hand. “You should be hiding, too.”

“I think that’s pretty good advice,” Jax said. “As soon as we have a visit with you I’m going to help Alex hide.”

His mother nodded. “Good. You both need to hide.”

Alex checked the other women in the sunroom. Most were watching the visitors rather than the TV.

“Mom,” Alex said, taking her arm, “we really need to talk to you. How about if we go to your room?”

Without protest she let Alex and Jax hold her hands and lead her out of the bright sunroom into the darker corridor. Most of the women on the other side of the room watched them leave. A few were engaged in conversations with no one in particular. One woman waved her arms in a loud argument with someone who wasn’t there.

Alex was relieved to see that his mother’s older roommate, Agnes, was watching the soap opera on the TV and didn’t follow them. While she never spoke, she did often sit in the room and stare at him when he visited his mother.

As they went through the doorway into his mother’s room, Jax first casually glanced in both directions down the hallway to see who might be watching them go in. A nurse, with an orderly to assist her, was at the far end of the hall, taking a tray of medications into the sunroom. Two orderlies coming down the hall in the other direction smiled as they went by.

Alex guided his mother to a leather ch

air against the wall beneath the window. The nearly opaque glass let in only a frost of light. He and Jax sat on the side of the bed, facing her.

Before they could ask her anything, his mother rose from the chair and shuffled over to a small wardrobe. After a brief search she pulled a shawl from the shelf. When his mother draped the shawl over the polished metal square screwed to the wall that served as a mirror, Jax glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. He knew what she was thinking.

“They look at me,” his mother muttered on her way back to them.

“We know,” Jax said. “I’m glad that you know to cover your mirror.”

His mother paused to stare at Jax. “You know?”

Jax nodded. “They’ve been watching Alex the same way. That’s why we’re here. We want to stop them from looking at you, and from looking at Alex.”

There wasn’t a lot of room between the bed and the chair against the wall. As she shuffled by, she rested a hand on Jax’s knee for support.

She paused, then reached out and ran her thin hand down Jax’s wavy blond hair. “You have such long, beautiful hair.”

“Thank you,” Jax said. “So do you.”

As she sat, Alex’s mother reached up and ran a hand down over her own hair. “I brush it to keep it nice. I won’t let them cut it.”

“I never let anyone cut mine, either,” Jax said.

Satisfaction at Jax’s words brought a small smile to her thin lips. “Good.” She turned her gaze to Alex, as if she had forgotten he was there. “Alex, why aren’t you hiding, like I told you?”