by
Kenneth Meade
In his first month, working as floor staff in the psychiatric ward at St. Francis, Marcus Berkley had been spit on, yelled at, insulted, threatened and nearly stabbed. The patients had been worse, but least they had an excuse; they were crazy. The floor staff, doctors and nurses seemed to simply enjoy being so vile.
Marcus endured the torturous aspects of his job because it provided three things beyond the ability to pay rent. First, the night shift allowed him sunlight hours to focus on his real work, his painting. He could spend his first fresh hours doing what he loved. Second, the hospital grounds themselves spoke to him in the way an artist needed to be spoken to – they inspired him. From the cobblestone pathway, that reminded him of the cool fall day he first came to the hospital, to the dark and creepy depths of the basement, which seemed to cry to him at night, attempting to scare artistic energy out of him, every inch of the place offered a creative spark to Marcus.
The last reason was Naomi Brewer, the gorgeous patient in 3C.
“Marcus, I’m going to need you to check lights again tonight. Do you mind?” Sam called from the door. The man was in his late forties and had dark hair that was obviously colored. He wore a janitor’s jumpsuit. Sam’s tone and posture suggested he had just had the hardest day of work anyone could imagine. It appeared he might collapse if he held the door open a moment longer.
Marcus stood at the head nurse’s desk, waiting for his duty sheet. Without looking, he knew Sam was full of shit. Sam had actually spent too much of the day with whatever games he could find on whatever computer he could get onto and left himself no time to do his job. However, Sam was the first and possibly only person at the hospital to have actually offered a welcome to Marcus. “Wazup dipshit?” was Sam’s rendition.
“Sure, I can knock it out for you. Maybe they’ll realize you need more help one day.” Marcus replied sincerely. He made sure to say it loud enough for others to hear.
Sam waved with great relief and left.
Originally, Marcus had checked the place for burnt bulbs without being asked. It had given him a great excuse to walk the entire facility and look for his next sketch. As if on a search for the next spark, he could search again. He could find another inspiring site like the sitting area with the classically old chair and finely crafted yet frayed rugged next to the elegantly cracked wall that he spent hours putting on paper. He could endeavor for the next part of the hospital that screamed at him to translate its appearance with his pant and brush as several had now, each begging to become his next fling of passion. Tired of their life of being unnoticed prop’s to the hateful workers or mindless patients, they sang to Marcus. These pockets of visual appeal each hoped Marcus would find them and make them into something eternal. Each he had found volunteered to be molded and transformed into a permanent representation of itself.
Marcus took his assignment sheet and read it quickly only to find the same disappointment he had every night he worked for the past few weeks. 3C was not on his rotation.
She had been here since he started. But he had only gleamed bits and pieces of her story from the nurses’ looks at one another when they left her room or the way the doctor shook his head as Marcus watched him survey her reports.
Marcus had laughed at himself for developing a crush on a girl in a mental ward but such is life. More so, after her first look at him he craved the sight of her nearly as much as his subjects craved being painted. She had seen him once as he stood purposely longer than need be just outside her door. He had expected a smile from her. The normal polite smile that even the shitty staff would give to someone they didn’t know. However, her look was something different. She looked at him with desperation. A sad look a child gives to a parent when they’re hungry. It was as if she was dying of thirst and Marcus was the only one who could give her water.
“She’s nuts.” Nurse Jen had said as she noticed him looking at her.
Despite the nurse’s words and the oddity of Naomi’s look, Marcus only wanted to meet her more.
Now, Marcus made his way to the locker room and decided he would check the lights after he put away his things. His assignments could wait, and they weren’t his priority.
“The cute ones are always the craziest.” David's voice spilled into the hall long before Marcus entered the locker room.
David wore only a towel and despite him being in a locker room, Marcus found that obnoxious.
“No, she won’t be leaving here anytime soon. She killed a guy. That’s why she’s here.” David exclaimed, as he remained unnecessarily close to naked, talking to another nurse.
Marcus thought they may be talking about Naomi but he was too uncomfortable to stay. Marcus decided David was as good a source of information as his towel was of covering the fact that he was a prick. There wasn’t a female in the hospital that didn’t find David disgusting and make a point to say just that any chance they got.
Marcus started his shift in the basement. Having taken only a small sketch pad, he realized right away he’d have to come back later with bulbs. Several were out down here, despites Sam’s best efforts.
The ambiance created by the crappy maintenance forced Marcus to resist the idea of replacing them. Something about the way the darkness mixed with light down here made that impossible for him to consider. He reached the bottom of the steps and heard a muted cry for attention. Its source was the out-of-place modern furniture ahead of him.
The floor was empty on his right side and there was a long wall with a few doors dotting its span on his left. Another open room at the far end held the furniture. He could just make out the texture of the dark brown leather on a couch. Beside it at a distance that must have had aesthetic intent was an ottoman, white, and made of a much coarser material. It could even be stone, Marcus thought. The light’s artistic endeavor left Marcus with the most reverence. It reached over most of the couch and only touched the ottoman, yet it also gave the far wall full credit for its tan collar. The light stopped however, halfway up the wall. Due to the position of its fixture, it left a black that only light ending could create. In front of Marcus was a scene of perfect contrast.
As Marcus stood, soaking it all in, one thing became definite. This would be his next affair. Marcus would paint this as soon as he could get in front of his canvas.
An hour after standing, holding his pad awkwardly and sketching, Marcus remembered his assignments. They could all wait until he captured the true scene. In a rush he decided to take a few photos with his phone. He took it out and turned off the flash. Just before he clicked a shot, she spoke.
“You’re a painter.” A soft subtle voice said from behind him.
Marcus dropped his phone and it made a hard cracking noise as it hit the floor. Regardless, he spun towards her. “What?” He said, instantly turning back for his phone. “Painter? What makes you say that?” He scrambled for it on the floor.
Naomi sat on the steps behind him with an unimposing look. “I saw you sketching earlier.”
“Sketching is sketching.” Marcus eyed her skeptically. “How long have you been down here?” He asked with a tone that mocked accusation.
“Just a few minutes. It’s quiet down here.” She looked away and shook her head.
“Well if someone catches you down here, they’ll think…”
“What that we’re making out?” She smiled at him. “Or that you’re taking advantage of me?” She said raising an eyebrow. “Don’t be silly no one comes down here.”
As dangerous as the idea was, he found it exciting. Her tone seemed inviting of the idea. “What’s your name?”
“You know my name. You remember me from the first time you saw me.” She said with pride as she looked back at him sharply.
“Starting to sound like you’re stalking me.” He smiled and folded his arms.
She stood up and stepped closer to him. “Maybe I have been.” She moved slowly and stood inches away from him. “Maybe I want something.” She reached around him and pulled his sketchpad from the back of his pants.
He reached for it but she swung away from him. “Maybe I have come for your art. Maybe I need your creative energy.” She flipped the pages and smirked.
He watched her and became flustered. He paused as he saw her flipped through it and clearly become excited by his work.
“You use these sketches to paint?” She asked with a look of awe.
“Yeah, you’re not supposed to be out of your room, are you?” He slowly took the pad back from her. He knew she was only trying to flatter him so he wouldn’t rush her back to her room.
“These people don’t know who I am,” she said as her face contorted from innocent to angry.
“All right, well maybe not but let’s not get me fired,” Marcus said as he placed his sketchbook into the back of his pants and took her by the shoulders.
“Now wait,” She pleaded and turned back to him. “Just finish your sketch and then I’ll go back.”
“I was finished. Let’s go.” He ordered.
Gently her hand slid back to his book.
Her touch was too soft for him to fight. Her lips moved close to his mouth but only so he wouldn’t speak. “I didn’t mean to stop you.” She whispered as she took the pad and handed it to him. She backed away and sat down on the steps.
Marcus was sure his demeanor hadn’t changed and shown the weakness he had for her voice or touch. He had stayed rigid as she got her way. He only wondered if she knew how much he felt like putty on the inside. He was silent for a long moment and then looked at her sternly. “Ok but I’ll be done in like ten minutes and then we leave.”
She nodded.
He expected to be distracted by her but wasn’t. No one had ever watched him sketch or paint. It was as if someone wanted to hear him play music for the first time. He saw clearly her expression of awe in his mind as he sletched. He found her presence comforting and inspiring. She was like a fan in the crowd watching with every ounce of her attention as he played subtle music. As he conducted perhaps, with pen, the orchestra of ink strokes, which became a symphony just as much as it was his sketch.
*
The next afternoon, Marcus woke two hours earlier than normal after a night shift. Thirty minutes later, he was headlong into his painting and two cups into his coffee. His music blared throughout his apartment and probably through a few of his neighbors’ places as well.
There wasn’t much from yesterday in Marcus’s head, no thoughts of the train ride home this morning, not even thoughts of the few things Naomi had said. In fact, the only thing really in his mind was a singular snapshot, embedded until he transferred it fully, onto the canvas. The image of Naomi sitting on the left side of the couch, with the ottoman, unused and empty, off to the right, filled his head. Every detail caught the focus of his mind.
There were several hours before he had to be ready for his shift tonight. Marcus knew he would feel done with this peace before he left for work and he knew that was odd. Days, weeks, and sometimes months would be spent tweaking any painting he had ever done. There was something different in him now. Marcus would finish this piece only because he could. And that would free him for his next assignment. He would be ready to pounce on the next spectacle to have its shroud removed as it would offer itself to be his next subject.
Marcus understood that there would be more. Other images would captivate him as the basement had. It was now a joint effort, intentional or not, of both Naomi and the hospital, to lead him to inspiration. She had doubled, if not more, that creative spark that the hospital alone had given him.
Marcus’s painting was finished almost an hour before he had to leave for work. Part of that last hour was spent in awe of the silhouette of Naomi, on the blocked couch, beside the ottoman of solitude. Marcus had done them all justice with the shapes, colors, textures and somehow, the emotion he brushed onto the canvas.
There was no expectation for what his shift tonight may bring. Marcus had no preconceived notion of what might catch his interest or inspire him tonight. There was only a belief, an understanding even, that more energy, like that from the basement, would find him.
As he rode to work, the train, as well as the other passengers, seemed different. They all spoke to his intrigue. Each person, as well as the station and everything in it were now interesting. By no means were any of them as energizing as the hospital had been the night before, but they did compliment it. Their outfits and demeanors sang, harmonizing their owners’ hopes of wonderful futures. Even a few older men, who were clearly homeless, wore auras that held hues of optimism.
By the time he had made it to the head nurse’s desk, he had written his ride on the train off as delirium from a lack of sleep mixed with artistic bliss. He headed for the locker room but stopped in his tracks as he read down his assignments. 3c? How? He was finally assigned to Naomi the night after he met her? He suspected she had something to do with it yet if she requested him, it wouldn’t have mattered. Patients don’t have that liberty. Marcus could only conclude Naomi was far more manipulative than he originally thought.
Without putting away his backpack, he went straight to confront her.
“How’d you do it?” Marcus said, holding his assignment sheet and standing at her door.
Naomi had been excited to see him at first. After he spoke, she looked at him with a silly grin. “Ha. Yes, I planned it. Like I said, I need your creative energy to take over the world.” She hopped to him as he stood at the end of her bed.
Marcus knew that if any of the other nurses saw her acting this way they would know something was different. Naomi had been nearly a comatose expressionless girl. Only love for a boy could make her act as she did now. He would certainly be pegged as that boy.
As he turned to look out of her room nurse Jen walked in.
“Good morning Naomi. Are we as cheerful as always?” The nurse asked smiling.
“Oh Jen, did you come here so I could put a smile on your face again?” Naomi looked at the nurse playfully.
“Well Naomi, for a crazy person you are the brightest ray of sunshine in my day.” She stepped close and hugged Naomi.
Marcus stepped back and stared at the two women. He barely knew Nurse Jen but was sure she had never been this nice to anyone. He looked down at his duty sheet and checked the date and letter head. He had hoped it was an unfamiliar name and a distant date. But no, nothing on it explained why these women were acting this way.
“Doctor Higgs wanted to come by and get your opinion on something. I told him not until after I make sure you have everything you need for the night.” The nurse said as she stepped towards the door.
“Tell Chris that’s fine. I’ll be up for a while.”
Marcus shot them both intense glares.
“You ok newbie? You look screwy.” Nurse Jen said looking at him. “What’s you name again?”
“Uh, Marcus. I’m Marcus.”
“Just because you get promoted to caring for a fine lady like Naomi don’t make you special. Get to work and stop looking at folks like they’re dumb.” She said and then turned to Naomi. “Have a great night sweetie.” Nurse Jen left the room.
“What the hell?” Marcus asked.
“What?” she asked and looked at him with concern. She smiled and got off the bed.
She moved to the door and shut it. Then she leaned into him and kissed him. It was a short kiss, just a peck, but it left his head spinning for several moments.
“Changing people’s perception of me is my art.” She whispered into his ear. “Just like you transform what you see into something permanent and more beautiful. I bend the thoughts of those around me. It’s really the same thing. Just as you need inspiration to paint, I need a creative energy to re-illustrate perceptions. You’re energy feeds me.”
Throughout her words his eyes remained closed. The sound was so soothing to him he only hoped she continued.
“I thought you didn’t want to get in trouble.” She said as she looked at him and smiled.
“It’s too late for that.” He said as his eyes opened.
She laughed aloud. “Let’s go for a walk.”
The idea although seemingly innocent left Marcus curious and excited. He took her by his locker and took only his notepad and pens. Marcus worried only as they passed the first few nurses and a doctor. No one seemed to notice the two of them. Surely, he was missing something but couldn’t put his finger on it. And if no one stopped them, so be it.
They ended up outside the hospital on a bench sitting at opposite ends with her bare feet in his lap. His pen was just above, taking visual notes of the corner of the hospital Naomi knew Marcus would enjoy. The moon became the sole provider of light, illuminating the subject. His pen grew wings.
A tower and balcony with a rail surrounding it were the main characters. Windows of the floors below as well as every brick were the prose and diction. The subtle ivy climbing the building, stretching all over this corner, dead and withering only near the top, were the theme and plot. The author was not Marcus, he would only tell the story in a way hard to ignore, respecting its anonymous creator, as much as possible.
Only as he was nearly finished with his sketching did it surprise him that a sexual tension hadn’t distracted him. Naomi had only sat, gazing at the corner of the hospital and occasionally watching Marcus sketch. She was content and peaceful, soaking in as much of it as she could. As Marcus finished his last sketch, he was certain she appeared stronger somehow.
Their night ended early because Marcus had other assignments. He suspected the next night he worked that Naomi would be his only responsibility, another construct of whatever talent or ability she had used to have him assigned to her tonight.
As he left the facility that morning, he passed the corner he sketched earlier. The moonlight was more subdued, yet he was awestruck. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of gratitude for Naomi’s actions. Despite not understanding the how behind them, he could almost say she was saving his life. And not nearly as frightening as he would have thought, he could also say he loved her for it.
*
The next morning held just as intense a painting session as the previous. It also produced another finished piece. With fear that he had either gone crazy himself or entered another dimension, Marcus called a friend whose artistic opinion he could trust.
“Yeah, I have some pieces I want you to take a look at.”
The voice on the other end questioned his productivity.
“Ha, yeah, pieces I did. It hasn’t been that long. I just want to know if I’ve gone off the deep end or if you think these are something.”
A time was suggested.
“Tomorrow would be great, round four?” Marcus confirmed and hung up. He studied his work again. “Yep, I’m nuts.”
He prepared for work with the same diligence as the day before and had just as inspiring a ride to the hospital. As he got close however, Naomi’s words replayed in his head. What did she mean about changing others perception of her? Had he not paid enough attention to see how the nurses and staff liked her before or did something change? Had he become that delirious from lack of sleep?
He laughed at the idea that Naomi had done anything. The taste of her lips was too fresh in his memory and he could only be glad if the circumstance made seeing her again acceptable.
As he entered the hospital, Doctor Higgs approached him at the door.
“I’ve been waiting for you Marcus.”
His heart stopped and he knew what was about to happen. He had crossed the line with Naomi and was about to be fired.
“It’s important.” Higgs continued.
Marcus sighed and took his bag off his shoulder. “Doctor I’m sorry. This is about Naomi?”
“It is. You must have heard. Well son I’m sorry but life isn’t always fair.”
Marcus nodded. He tried to figure out how long he had based on the current bank account balance. Had he paid all of the month’s bills? Would they give him two weeks? Would he get paid for today?
“I think she is still here. If you caught her before she left you might try asking her out.” Doctor Higgs said as he placed a hand on Marcus’s shoulder.
Marcus nodded and then looked at the Doctor. “I’m sorry, what?”
“She spoke highly of you. She might go out with you. Life is short son. Sometimes you have to forgo humility and go for it.” Higgs shrugged.
“Ask her out? It is okay for staff to date patients?” Marcus asked.
Higgs laughed. “Patients? Hell no. That’s a terminable offense, plus a bad idea. There all crazy in here son. Ha! That’s good. No, I’m saying ask Doctor Brewer out before she leaves. Her transfer came through. Today is her last day.”
Marcus began to nod. Then he shook his head.
Over Doctor Higg’s shoulder something caught Marcus’s eye. It was Naomi. She wore a black skirt, red blouse and a doctor’s white jacket. She was walking towards them.
Her walk was confident and beautiful. She was wearing thin glasses and her hair was pulled up. As she got close she looked at Marcus and winked. She then passed them both and walked out of the hospital.
The two men watched her leave. Doctor Higgs spoke.
“Well son you blew it. I guess you could see where she went and put in for a transfer there.” He laughed as he finished. “What a lady.” Higgs shook his head.
*
Marcus didn’t make it through his shift that night. And he didn’t do any sketches. Once he made it home, he slept solid until there was a knock at his door.
“Okay let me see them.” Bill said, apparently annoyed with how long it took Marcus to answer the door.
Marcus remembered calling Bill the morning before. “Oh yeah, Come in.” Marcus led Bill to them, still in shock from the yesterday. He plopped onto his couch as Bill studied his art.
“How long have you been sitting on these?” Bill asked.
“Two days?” Marcus answered, not sure himself.
Bill looked back smiling. “How long did they take you?”
“I started the first one two days ago, a few hours.” Marcus said pointing to the one of the couch and Naomi.
Bill’s smile left. “Are you on drugs?”
“No, I was just inspired.” Marcus shrugged as he stood, energized by Bill’s obvious interest.
“I can sell them this weekend - if you’re selling.” Bill huffed, expecting Marcus to resist.
Marcus thought for a minute about Naomi. He wondered how long he would remember her, if she were gone forever and if she would remember him. He then wondered if would end up on drugs because of her. “Great.” He answered. “Do it.”
“Really? Great! These are awesome Marcus. What are the chances of you doing more?”
Marcus’s smile grew wide as he looked at the stack of sketches of the hospital on his coffee table. “Pretty good. So take a few pictures if you need to. I have to get ready for work.”
Marcus wondered how Naomi did what she did for only a moment he then realized he didn’t care. He only wanted to find her. Another part of him hoped the hospital she transferred too was just as inspiring and willing to give its essence to his art.
The End
