Stretched Thinly

:::::::::::::  work in progress  :::::::::::::::::::

It always struck her odd that the building should look so ordinary from outside. There was nothing about its plain brick facade, smooth concrete paths or neatly tended gardens that hinted at what it was like inside. She had been coming here every day for the last three months and each time she looked for some small indication that would make it all seem less ordinary, but always the planned plainness defeated her. Once, on an impulse, she had written her initials on the concrete path with a piece of chalk she had brought from school - guiltily aware that such an action could be easily misconstrued by those inside - yet by the following day the path had been washed clean and returned to its bland conformity.

She walked up to the simple painted-timber door and pressed the small button recessed into the brickwork beside it. Somewhere deep inside the building a buzzer, bell or perhaps just a blinking light announced her presence. She waited patiently; it always took several minutes for someone to come and unlock the door and pressing the button more than once never shortened this time. Today, the nurse who eventually appeared on the other side of the door was the tatoo man. She thought of him as the tatoo man because the first time she had seen him she noticed the tatooed head of a snake poking from under the rolled-up sleeve of his white jacket. She had never again seen him with his sleeve rolled-up, but the image remained in her mind. Such a small thing, yet these little details were how she came to identify and name each of the staff.

The nurse unlocked the door and she walked into the small vestibule. To one side was a stand with a thick visitors' book on it and she picked up the pen dangling from a plastic chain to sign in. The nurse looked at her name, and that of the patient she was visiting, then asked to see some identification. While she looked in her purse for her drivers' license, the nurse went through the usual routine.

"You are requested not give patients anything without first checking with the staff; if you have any potentially dangerous objects in your possession, you are asked to leave these with the staff until you depart; patients have medication scheduled in an hour - you will be requested to have completed your visit by this time..."

She handed the tatoo-nurse her license. Whether or not he recognised her from previous visits she could not tell. He still checked the license carefully, holding it up to compare her face with the small picture on the plastic card, before nodding and handing it back to her. She wondered if the nurse was just doing his job thoroughly, or whether he simply took no real notice of visitors from the outside world.

The nurse took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the inner door of the vestible. She walked past the nurse as he held the door open and waited as he closed the door and re-locked it. The nurse started off down the corridor and she followed closely behind.

"How has my mother been today, do you know?" she asked.

"I can't say, Ma'am," replied Tatoo. I only came on shift an hour ago. You will need to talk to the charge nurse. Or ask to see your mother's doctor. I think it's been a quite day, 'though. For all the patients."


The visting area was in the centre of the building. It was a large atrium space, light and airy with neatly trimmed gardens around the edges. There was even a small ornamental waterfall gurgling in the corner. It was almost like being in a park, except there were no birds singing in the trees.


Thre was a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the counter near the coffee machine, drinking from a styrofoam cup. She guessed his age to be about the same as hers. He was neatly dressed in cordroy slacks, a green open-knecked shirt and tweed sports coat.

He finished his coffee and threw the cup in the rubbish bin.


"The waiting's the hardest isn't it?"


"The waiting. Each day waiting and wondering if they'll be any better."

"Oh... that, , I understand." She nodded. "I thought you meant... I just got here, you see. I'm always running late. By the time I get here from school, visiiting hours are almost over."

"How long have you been coming here?"

'Oh..." She had to think fro a moment. How long had it been? . About two months. It seems like longer 'tho."

"It's been nearly two years for me."

"Oh, God. How have you stood it?"

"Not much choice, really, is there? It really doesn't bother me too much anymore - it almost feel like my home."

No, there's not."

He smiled and held out his hand. "I'm Lindsay by the way."

She took his hand. "I'm Sarah."

"Nice to meet you, Sarah. Well, if you will excuse me, I've got to be going. I might see you again some time."



"Hello Billy. Are you after a cup of coffee?"

The man looked at Lindsay, then back at the coffee machine. A look of confusion crossed his face, then his watery eyes brightened slightly and he smiled. He dug his hand into the pocket of his trousers and brought out a coin. He looked at it in wonderment, as if surprised to find it there. He held it up to Lindsay with a crooked smile.

Sarah watched in nervous silence. She couldn't stop the was amazed at the gentle patience of Lindsay as he helped the old man and, at the same time, felt

The old man dhuffled away.

Julian noticed her discomfort, and smiled. "You get to know some of them after a while. Some you stay away from, but ones like old Billy there are harmless. They don't really understand what's happened to them. All they want, sometimes, is just a bit of human interaction - to know that they still exist and not to be treated like a broken thing that society has thrown away."



"Hello, mother."

"Hello dear. Is it visiting time already? I've lost track of time today."

"Yes, mum. I've come straight from work."

Her mother looked at her with a blank expression, her eyes

The doctors told her that the drugs slowed down the rate on comprehension.

"Much better, today. I got a really good sleep last night. And I didn't dream."

"That's good."


She told her mother about her day, avoiding the awkward silence by filling the air with trivial details about her students, the other teachers and even what she had for lunch.


"You're a teacher?"

"Yes, how did you know? Do I just have that look."

"Sort of. But you mentioned the other day that you'd come staright from school. Unless of course, you are a student?"

Sarah smiled. "That's very flattering, but it's been a long time since I went to school."

He shrugged. 'I have a skewed perspective I suppose. Some of my students are older than me."

"You're a teacher too?"

"I leacture at the university. Post-grad students mostly.

"What faculty?"

My own courses are fairly specialised: French literature, 1850 to 1950."

"Wow, that is specific. I'm afraid my classes are a bit more down to earth, I teach Grade 2. Our literaery discussions don't get much past 'Where the Wild Things Are' at the moment."

"Well, that's probably more entertaining than talking about a bunch of dead French guys."


"I've been off on a long sabatical. Suposedly to write a book." He indicated his satchel. "But really, it's because of Barry. I couldn't seem to concentrate on my classes because I was too concerned about him."

"I know what you mean. I've been feeling guilty that I've been neglecting my students. But I can't take any time off - the bills still need to get paid."

"How's your mother? Is she responding to treatment?"

"He doctor says he's happy with her progress, but I can't see any real improvment."

"The doctors here are pretty good," he told her. "They generally know what they're talking about. They see all the little signs that tell them a patient has started the journey back. If you come here long enough, you'll start to pick up on theings with the other patients too."

"what do they say about Barry?"

"You know, when he first came here, everyone thought it would only be for a few days. Then one of the doctors sat down and had a long talk with me. He said Barry's journey was going to be a long one and that I shouldn't get my hopes up of him leaving too soon."


"He has periods where he is totally lucid - there's lot of times we could be sitting down having a converstaion, just like you and I. Then he goes back to that dark world of his, where no one seems to be able to reach him. That's when I really worry. That's when he seems to be stretched so thinly that he could just slip away forever. They are really good people here, but when he's like that, even they couldn't stop him from blinking out."




"Camus said that suicide was the one truly serious philosophical problem. All else was incidental."


"Albert Camus." He grinned. "A dead French guy."

"Of course. Did he..."

"No, he died xxxxx. Rather ordinary, really, although he would have appreciated the absurdity of it."

"Why absurd?"



when I come her and look at all these lost souls - it's like I'm reborn agaon


I feel so full of love for them - my heart feels like it will burst


"I'm afraid we don't have any patients by the name of Barry."

"His brother comes to visit him. His name's Tony. Tall chap, wears a sports coat and carries an old leather satchel."

The nurses eyes saddened. "Oh, Tony wasn't a visitor..."

"You mean he's a patient?"

"I'm afraid so. He wasn't here to visit his brother - I don't