The Devil in Silver

The doctor seemed surprised to hear her voice. He’d been expecting to milk the pained silence for another minute or five. But he also didn’t interrupt her. What would be the point? When he left this room, this unit, he’d never be back. Too much paperwork to fill out for compensation anyway. And too many different agencies spitting up some small portion of the total bill. He looked at the four patients, two men and two women, and felt a stabbing kind of sympathy. This was the new American Austerity. The reality of our lives in the aftermath of economic disaster. The tighter belts, the slashed spending, the death of compromise. The twenty-first century threatened to look a bit like the nineteenth. The Century of Sharp Elbows was upon us. This economic prudence was supposed to affect everyone, but you could bet it was going to whip some people much worse. Dr. Barger felt the pain of these realizations but with a little time, and distance, his discomfort would pass.

“My library was having a book sale,” Josephine said. “Getting rid of a lot of things. My mother and I went there on Saturday and Sunday. I found a bunch of stuff that I thought you might like. I had fifty dollars to spend and they were selling titles cheap.”

Dr. Barger snorted. “At least New Hyde spit up the cash for that!”

Josephine shook her head. “Actually, the money came from me.”

Dr. Barger looked back at her again and nodded. He didn’t offer anything more.

Josephine said, “You don’t have to wait for Book Group to pick something. If you come find me, I’ll let you borrow a title.”

Dr. Barger turned back to the table and looked at his copy of Jaws. He said, “How many of you actually read it?”

Every hand, including Josephine’s, went up.

Dorry said, “We’re ready.”

And Dr. Barger nodded, opened his copy of the book.

“We’re ready,” Dorry repeated, and the doctor waved to let her know he’d heard.

He heard but didn’t understand.

Dorry wasn’t speaking to him.

She watched Pepper who finally looked up from his book. The old woman stared at him.

“We’re ready,” she said.

But ready for what, exactly? The spirit was willing, but the flesh was a little … disorganized. They’d stopped taking their medications with the hopes that it would allow some clarity. So they could make their next decision—how to confront the Devil? And what to do when they released it?

That wasn’t a conversation for Book Group, though.

So they talked about Jaws and passed an hour. Dr. Barger shook each person’s hand before he had Josephine walk him to the secure door and let him out for good. She looked over her shoulder before sliding the key in the door this time. When Josephine returned to conference room 2, the four patients had left for the television lounge where they waited on the next smoke break. Miss Chris was the one who opened the way this time. She unlocked the shatterproof glass door and did a head count as the patients shuffled past.

“Eight out!” she shouted, for no one’s benefit. It’s not like one of the orderlies, or another nurse, or any of the higher-paid staff, was standing around with a clipboard, taking count. No. Miss Chris called out the number only to alert the other staff members back at the nurses’ station that she had monitored this break and she better not be bothered to cover another soon.

Four of the eight patients spent their time smoking. Japanese Freddy Mercury and Yuckmouth, Wally Gambino and, of all people, the Haint. They stood around the tilted basketball rim and lit up. The other four gathered under the maple tree. The ground showed dozens of maple seeds, gone brown because they’d fallen and found only concrete. Nowhere to grow so they died. Dorry reached down and picked one up and twirled the stem between her thumb and forefinger.

“My son used to like playing helicopters with these.”

“He never visits you?” Coffee asked. He didn’t realize the line might sound harsh.

Dorry let the husk go and it fell without whirling. “I like to think he’s always near me. But my daughter visits.” She seemed glum but smiled after a moment. “And she brings my grandsons.”

Out here, away from the watchful eye of a moderately vigilant staff, Pepper dropped the droopy lip and straightened his left leg.

Loochie said, “Why are you acting like that?”

“I’m trying to make them think I’m still on my medication. We were all supposed to do that. Remember?”

Loochie said, “I was!”

Dorry and Coffee nodded, too. As if their chicanery had been clear. And Pepper understood that this, right now, was how they thought they appeared all the time, even when the medication had been wrecking them. Even Dorry, who’d been at New Hyde for decades, had never seen herself as she’d been seen by others.