Moments later a tall, thin woman with rustcolor hair stepped out. I could see her shoulder bones outlined against her white uniform. She had long arms with jutting wrist bones and very long hands, hands that looked strong and capable. When she circled the bed and came around on my right, I could see her face more clearly.
She looked half asleep herself, her eyelids drooping so that there were barely two slits revealing small hazel pupils. She had a long thin nose and a very wide mouth above a cleft chin. She reminded me of Mary Beth and I wondered if she were suffering from anorexia, too. If so, why wasn't she a patient instead of an employee?
She didn't seem impressed with the fact that I was awake. She moved about the room as if she had been taking care of me for weeks and weeks. It made me wonder just how long I had been here. Without greeting me, in fact barely looking at me, she placed the basin of water on the table and pulled back the sheet to undo the straps.
"You have to sit up. I'm going to wash you down a bit," she mumbled. Her voice was so deep it sounded almost manly. This close to me, I could see tiny black hairs curled at the side of her chin. "And then I'll give you something to eat," she said.
As she spoke, she avoided looking directly at me.
"What happened to me?" I asked. "Why was I strapped into bed?"
She paused and finally glanced at me.
"I don't know," she said and continued undoing the straps. "Can you sit up by yourself?" she asked.
"Where am I? Who are you?"
"My name is Clare. You're in room three-ohseven," she said. "Can you sit up please."
I thought hard and vaguely recalled the events that led to my being brought upstairs.
"I need to see Doctor Southerby," I said. "Can you tell him Laura Logan needs to see him as soon as possible? It's very important."
"I'm just a nurse's aide," she said. "I don't tell anyone anything."
She began to wash my right hand and my arm with as much interest as she would have in washing a dirty dish.
"I can do that myself," I said, anger rushing in to replace fear. "Why was I strapped down in bed? Why can't I get up and walk around? Can't I just take a shower or a bath?"
She kept washing and rinsing as if I hadn't said a word. My anger began to simmer my blood into a rolling boil.
"Can't you tell me anything?" I demanded as forcefully as I could.
She paused.
"I have some meat loaf, mashed potatoes, peas and carrots, some bread, apple juice, and strawberry Jell-O."
"What?"
"That's your supper," she said. "That's all I can tell you. That's all I know."
She started on my other hand and arm. I pulled it back abruptly.
"I said I can wash myself."
She held the cloth a moment and then shrugged.
"Here. Do it. I'll get your food," she said and dropped the cloth in my hand before turning and walking out of the room. I put the cloth on my face and took a deep breath.
I have to get out of here, I thought. I have to find Doctor Southerby and get out of here. I put my legs over the bed and stood. My whole body swayed like the pendulum in a grandfather's clock.
Nevertheless, I turned to the closet, hoping to find my clothes. At the moment, I was wearing a loose hospital gown and was barefoot. The tile floor felt like ice beneath my feet. Taking a deep breath, I stepped away from the bed and walked to the closet. However, when I opened the door, I looked in at empty hangers. There were no clothes, no shoes, nothing but a layer of fine dust.
"What are you doing out of bed? Get back in, quick, or I'll get fired," the tall woman cried. She had my tray of food in her hands and moved across the room to the table quickly. As I turned, she took hold of my arm to help me back. The room spun around me.
"Why am I so dizzy? What did they give me? My legs feel like rubber."
"I don't know anything about medicines. Just get into the bed."