it's coming

They gave me a bed separated from others by weak curtains. I was second from the end and nearest to the door. I couldn't figure out how to adjust the bed itself so it wasn't completely parallel to the floor, so I lay there curled up like I was at home with all my familiar trappings, ready for dreaming.

Almost all the lights were off in all the quarters, except to the right of me. It was a he and a she. The girl had banged her shoulder up something fierce. The doctor came in and explained she couldn't lift up her kids for a few days, because sometimes fractures take awhile to appear in tricky places like the shoulder blade. Then he left. Her husband said:

"I'm going to sit you up on the couch and fling food at your face."
"You will not."
"I will too. I'm going to just fling food at your face and make you catch it."

She giggled. He helped her get dressed and teased her, I think, because I heard soft, playful protests of "Cut it out," and "I'm gonna tell the doctor on you and he'll make you stop it." I watched them walk out. She was adorable, like you could give her a squeeze.

There was a persistent dinging noise, and I heard the following question:

"Are we still on lock down?"
"What?"
"Are we still on lock down?"
"Not really."

More dinging, and then the voice of an older man,"

"Excuse me, Mr. Nurse? I need to urinate."

This plea went on for quite awhile. At this point, I felt all kinds of horrible. I wanted someone to help him, but there was no way I was going to tell anyone how to do the job of working in the ER. It took about a half hour, and then a nurse sweetly took him to the bathroom. I saw only male nurses at Touro.

It took about an hour for a doctor to see me, which wasn't bad. He said only two things to me:

"I'm going to give you every drug I can."

And...

"Are you diabetic?"

I told him no. He listened to my breathing, and a few minutes later, a nurse drowned my sorrows in another stream of "baby" and "darling" and brought me several pills. Then he said he needed to test my blood sugar (just a simple blood test).

"Is that standard operating procedure?" I asked.
"It is for this doctor," he said dryly.

I have no idea why that would be the case. Maybe we're all sugar and he thinks we'll melt.

"Alright sweetie, I just have to get your paperwork and we'll get you out of here."

At this point, a young, amazingly beautiful woman walked in to ask me some questions. Biodata. The basics.

"Religion?" she asked.
"What?"
"Religion?"

I had no idea how to convey my answer.

"No," I finally settled on this.
"Ok."

My name, my employer, emergency contact, insurance card. Insurance after the drugs. Completely fascinating.

Alright. Expecting to be dispatched quickly. I had the drugs in me. No reason to keep me around, taking up this bed. I hadn't even put on the gown; they could just keep it there for the next person.

The lights were on now. I started texting updates to some concerned persons. I sent a few pictures. There was silliness, and I felt completely at home. I was in my skin, and feeling totally connected to home while being far away and alone.

Then, I heard my doctor say the following as he stood in the space directly to my left, shadowed in the curtain:

"What's the matter, baby?"

No audible response. He must be on the phone.

"What? Did you take heroin?"

Silence again.

"Did you overdose on heroin?"

Nothing.

"Alright. It's going to be ok." Soft, sweet tones of comfort. The same person who gave me every drug he could think of.

I tried to not want to listen. This seemed personal.

The doors to the right of me opened, and a woman not too much older than me walked through. I saw her chunky, glittered sandals and blue-polished toes. And then I saw them walk with intention to the room next to me, crossed, sitting in a chair in the corner. I could only see the toes. And the sandals. She waved the foot crossed over the other back and forth like a heavy sigh.

"Is this mom?" said the doctor.

It wasn't a phone call. There was someone there. What do you know.

"Yes, I'm mom."

I will avoid going into the specific back and forth. Conversations about where she got the drugs. 17 years old. She had been in Touro earlier that day and when she got back home, she began to hallucinate. And that's why she was back. It wasn't the first time. There were lots of times before today.

But I want to tell you what the doctor said. I could only hear his voice, which is why I've written it this way. To me, it still sounded like he was on the phone. But there was another person in there with him, with her mother. This is what I heard.

* * *

You dropped out of school? Sophomore year? So what do you want to be when you grow up?

A Vet?
A Veterinarian?

No, you don't want to be a Vet. No.

Because you have to go to school for that.

No.

You want to be a Tech. A Vet Tech. That's what you mean, so say what you mean. A Vet Tech. Because you have to go to school to be a Vet. And you're not in school.

Ok. So you want to be a Vet Tech. That's good. Alright.

But let me tell you what's going to happen to you, ok? Because it's coming. And I can see it. I used to work in a ladies prison in Mississippi. Before Katrina.

So you're almost 18, right? You're going to get busted. You're doing this with your friends. Your boyfriend. And you think he loves you. But he doesn't. Maybe he gets you pregnant but that's something else. You're getting your drugs from him, or from your brother. And they don't care, so they're going to get busted and then so will you. You'll be 18, so you'll go to prison. Not some cush juvie place. Because I worked in Mississippi, before Katrina, and I've seen it.

It's coming.

You get there, and a pretty girl like you, do you know what they call you? Huh? Do you know what they'll call you there?

Fresh. Meat.

That's what they'll call you. Because you're so pretty and young.

So here's what will happen.

(A slapping sound)

They will hold your hands like this.

(Slap)

And your legs like this.

And they'll make you.

Whatever they want to do, they'll do it, and there's nothing anyone can do for you. The people who work there? They don't care about you. They don't want to upset the order; they just want to make sure they get home to their families. They don't get paid much. And guess what?

They think you deserve it.

It's coming. It's coming.

And if you talk? If you scream? Guess what? They'll break your nose. They'll break your teeth. Your pretty face will be all ruined. And then you'll have to take it all the same anyway. They'll break your face apart. It's coming. I've seen it. You won't be pretty anymore.

So let's say you get out, and you want to be a Vet Tech. You get a job. You're 18, they'll find out about you. Why would they want to keep you? Why would they believe you? A junkie. Drugs go missing all the time from those places. Why wouldn't you take it? You're a junkie. It's coming. You can't even give your friends a recommendation, because who would believe someone like you?

Can I show you something? I just want to show you something. I'll be right back.

(Footsteps and papers rustling).

You've seen Faces of Meth? You've seen these girls?

Here are all the pictures, and look at the dates. Look at the first picture, and look at the last. Why do you think this picture is the last one I have?

No. She didn't clean up. Why else would this be the last picture?

That's right. She died.

And what about this girl?

That's right. She died. It's coming for you. It's coming.

I promise you, it's coming.

(Footsteps walking away. He was gone).

* * *

I heard sobbing now. Talks of committal, just for awhile, just to get help. There were cries muffled in heavy arms, in endless hugs.

It's coming for all of us. No sense running.

But no sense walking into the fire neither, I suppose.

I saw the mother and an aunt later, while I waited for my cab. They went to get food from the catering van. To have a cigarette and to text. While I was waiting, the same man passed me twice. He noted the second time:

"You haven't moved at all!"

I laughed. I was a million miles from where I had been, from when I had arrived. But I don't kid myself in thinking I saw or heard anything special. Just another night. Alone in the presence of another.