Accidental exposure, p.38
Accidental Exposure, page 38
“Well, I disagree.”
“Don’t be hasty Brian. These are the facts and this is a process. You can’t just pick up where you left off. There will be obstacles you will have to overcome,” Dr Black says.
“That’s rubbish. They owe me. I did great work there. I just need to get back to my office; they’ll all remember me,” Brian replies.
“Relax, you haven’t even spoken to your old boss. You should call ahead and make an appointment to meet with them. Remember, it may not be your office anymore.”
“You’re not so helpful yet.”
“Fine. Storm into their foyer tomorrow as soon as you leave Green Fields. Then what will you say? ‘I’m back, who are we trying to send to prison this week?’ It won’t work like that. Mr Crown, the world kept turning while you were away and the sooner you come to terms with that the less you will lose as a result. ”
“That might be true for the career-less nut-cases you normally treat, but not me. I would have been halfway to running that office by now if it wasn’t for the accident and the people I worked with were my friends.”
“So how will you answer their questions? When they ask you the simple things like ‘how do you feel?’ What about when your co-workers want to know what it’s like to wake up from a coma? You weren’t legally charged with an infringement, so you aren’t required to tell your employer exactly what happened, but how good a liar are you? Can you forget about this place?”
“You’re exaggerating. Why would they ask so many questions? If management has told anyone anything about the accidents, then the entire staff will sympathise.”
“Anyone can be curious about the past. Regardless of its relevance.”
“Don’t beat around the bush, this applies to us doesn’t it?” Brian pauses. Dr Black is sitting there, staring into his eyes without discernable expression.
“You’re asking about our past encounter,” Brian continues, “You want to know if I remember threatening you?”
“I know that you remember. I’m asking how, if at all, you will explain the incident to the prosecutor’s office as you ask them for your job back. I understand that you never returned to working in a full capacity after the first accident. So we’re really talking about re-appearing after over eighteen months.”
“Look, threatening you was a mistake. I apologise if I frightened you and I know how repulsive my behaviour was, but I awoke to the most horrible moment of my life and-”
“Stop,” Dr Black commands, “I’m not interested in the regrettable event we shared. I believe it was uncharacteristic of you and so it would be unfair for me to begin judging you by it. As for me being frightened, let me just say that I deal with violent people more often than you know, your outburst was nothing. I understand you are the victim of unimaginable consequence. I want you to realise that I recognise that. I don’t want to ‘monitor your progress’ as I might with other patients. I want to help you recover and re-gain custody of Andy. That’s what’s best for everyone in this situation.”
“That sounds promising but I’m not an idiot. I know that no court will appoint custody of a blind child to a recovering cripple they think might be violent. I need a good job and a good life so that Andy can return to the comforts he deserves.”
Dr Black nods slowly and says, “That’s enough for today. Go enjoy your last evening at Green Fields. I’m worried that cars may trigger a psychological response you haven’t dealt with since the second crash, so I’ll drive you myself in the morning and explain where we go from here. The hard part starts tomorrow,” she says as she extends her palm and Brian shakes her hand as softly as he can manage.
He leaves the room with more questions than answers and a concerned look has appeared upon Brian’s face. The session went well, but it was confronting. The thing that really struck Brian as odd though, was the way Dr Black spoke about his son. No one outside of his family has ever called him ‘Andy.’
Chapter 19: Prove It
The next day, Brian sits in the cafeteria eating his almost enjoyable breakfast of microwaved porridge and pale yellow powdered eggs. He thinks about sitting in a real restaurant and ordering food that hasn’t been prepared in bulk as he gnaws away on a cold piece of toast.
“Good morning Mr Crown,” a familiar voice chirps at Brian from behind.
He turns to see Dr Black standing there, clasping a leather purse instead of his file, a welcome change. He attempts to ask her to join him, but the dry bread in Brian’s mouth stops him from speaking. Instead, he coughs a little and stands, offering her a seat. Dr Black denies the gesture.
“The coffee here is rubbish,” she begins. “We’ve got a busy day, just leave the food and we’ll get something while we drive. Change into these; they should fit,” she continues as she passes Brian a plain white shirt and blue jeans.
“You can wear your hospital slippers; we won’t be going anywhere too fancy,” she says as Brian feels his face light up with excitement.
He paces with purpose through halls he’s never seen before as Dr Black greets familiar staff members with a smile. After a few minutes, Brian finds himself in a lobby. He gazes through a wall made entirely of glass and marvels at the tiny cobbled footpath to freedom on the other side. It leads to a decorative gate. Beyond the twisting iron barrier, Brian can clearly see people enjoying their morning. These distant strangers aren’t paying any attention to the matters of Green Fields; real society is only a short walk away from Brian.
He signs a contract stating the same rubbish any hospital expects someone leaving to agree to, freeing the establishment from responsibility. Dr Black signs something that, no doubt, states the opposite; that she’ll accept the responsibilities associated with transporting the recently released. A few steps later, the automatic door slides open and Brian’s feet step onto free ground .
He takes a moment to enjoy the peaceful feeling. Brian hears the car engines and honks and the chaotic sounds of the city and he’s never felt so pleased to be a part of it.
Dr Black taps the tiny button on a key she’s holding as Brian enters the car park and the lights of a silver Mercedes in the distance flash twice with a sharp bleep.
“Is that your car?” Brian asks.
“Yes.”
“It’s quite similar to what I used to drive.”
Dr Black stops suddenly, but before she has the chance to speak, Brian says, “Relax. The second car, from the accident I slept through. I can only remember the good things from my Mercedes.”
Dr Black grins before opening her mouth again.
“First stop is a café. I know a place that makes the best pancakes. It’s on the other side of the harbour though, so we’ll drive past some things you may recognise. Sound good?”
“I’ll be happy with anything I don’t have to eat with a plastic spoon.”
The day has started well and Dr Black begins Brian’s travelling therapy session as they turn out of the facility and pull up to the first set of traffic lights.
“So how do you feel?” she asks.
“Good, glad to be out and about.”
“Tell me how you feel about being in a car. Does it scare you?”
“No. I guess I’m a little nervous, but I think that’s because I’m used to being locked away.”
“Does anything about either accident come to mind?”
“No. I still remember nothing about the second crash and after the first I must have driven a hundred times, so this doesn’t seem new.” Brian calmly stares at the world beyond the window as he speaks. He’s slouching and his hands rest limply in his lap.
“That’s good, yeah great, but I encourage you to interrupt any conversation we may be having if you feel any different. Announce any little change and we can begin to deal with it. ”
Brian doesn’t bother answering; he’s too interested in the tiny little changes in the world. Shops look the same but are advertising different deals and petrol stations are similar except for the fact that their product is noticeably more expensive.
He sees a woman with a bouquet of tulips in yellow wrapping and thinks of Annette. Brian closes his eyes and it’s comfortable in the passenger seat of the Mercedes with the scent of a woman overpowering that of the leather seats. It’s almost as if Annette is driving. How Brian wishes that were the case, even as he remembers all Annette’s shortcomings. Every married couple fights and, it’s true, Brian and Annette were going through a rough patch, but to hear her laugh as she points out the oddities of the passing world would land Brian in paradise.
“Here we are.” Dr Black’s voice draws Brian from his daydream.
Brian reads the sign aloud, “Café Rouge, it looks nice.”
It’s an old white building adorned with bright red window frames and a crimson double door. He steps inside and shimmies between poorly spaced tables to sit on a pink couch near the back wall. Everything inside is white, black or a shade of red. Even the wooden ornaments, which must have been coated in no more than varnish when they were purchased, have been painted. Brian is still marvelling at the level of sophistication achieved using such a limited pallet when the waitress approaches.
“Good morning” she begins with a bubbly little greeting. “Were you planning on eating here today or just popping in for a coffee?” she continues with a smile.
Brian laughs a little too obviously as he notices the ginger red hairs poking out from beneath her Café Rouge cap.
“I’ll start with a cappuccino while I look at the menu please,” Brian requests as her smile fades a little.
“The same for me thanks,” Dr Black adds before the waitress scurries away.
“This is a funky little place. Do you live around here?” Brian asks .
“We’ll begin speaking about your house,” Isabel says. “Unfortunately your recent physical condition means that you were unable to make decisions for yourself. With no next of kin, these decisions were made by professionals. Strangers to you.”
“All right.”
“So the most immediate decision to make was in regards to your housing payments. Obviously, no one knew when you were going to recover so an automatic transfer was set up from your savings account to keep the property in your name,” Dr Black explains.
“I don’t understand. I’m not poor. Money should have been easy to find.”
“Yes. There was an available account for a while, but Annette’s death meant that there was nothing coming in and a lot that needed to be spent. You had signed the papers on the new property and in between the two accidents your wife’s salary alone was barely enough to pay bills and buy groceries. Please understand the amount paid was necessary to retain the deed. As you had expressed interest in owning that property before your coma, it was decided that every effort should be made to hold it.” Brian feels a little jolt in his chest as Dr Black says Annette’s name. Losing money isn’t upsetting; he knows he can always make more. Brian’s wife, on the other hand, is thoroughly lost.
“OK guys, here are your cappuccinos and were you ready to order breakfast?” The overly enthusiastic waitress asks as she plunks a couple of mugs on the table, spilling Brian’s slightly over the red slab.
“I’m sorry sir,” she says. “It’s been a tough morning for us; I’m running around like a mad woman. Let me just wipe that up for you.”
“It’s fine. We’re not ready to order food yet, thank you,” Dr Black says.
Brian tries to whisper, but his next words leave in a growl. “What about the government? They help injured people with all kinds of social support and funding. ”
“Medicare and the government paid almost all of your medical bills. The families of people in your condition usually come together to deal with possessions, but you have no one except Annette’s brother, Jason, and he’s spent part of your absence in rehab.”
“What’s bloody Jason done now?”
Dr Black fidgets a little with her coffee cup before stuttering, “I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to comment on Annette’s brother’s-“
“Forget about Jason,” Brian holds a palm up and looks away, urging the psychologist to stop before he continues, “You must have missed something. My accounts can’t be empty and I can’t have lost that property. It just can’t have happened.”
“I’m sorry to have to say all this now Brian, but no one even knew when, if ever, you would recover from your condition and you were too unstable to upset at Green Fields. They had to-”
“I can’t believe this. This can’t be happening.”
“Please, calm down.”
“This can’t be happening.”
“No don’t-”
Brian throws the slightly less than full coffee to the floor with as much force as he can muster, smashing the pink porcelain vessel no more than a few inches from the waitress’s left shoe. Boiling foam is thrown towards and around the nearest tables like a firework that never left the earth as Brian begins to scream.
“I slaved away in that courtroom to send every rapist and murderer I ever had the pleasure of prosecuting away for as long as possible! Do you know how much money I’d have if I had accepted any of the offers I received to work for a private firm and defend those criminals?” Brian sits rigid and furious; he can feel the wood of the red chair pressing hard on his shoulder blades. The waitress is running to the kitchen crying and a mother beside the front door grabs her young, terrified daughter by the wrist and drags her out of the room.
Everyone is staring .
“I’m trying to help you,” Dr Black begins without a hint of fear or sympathy.
“Rubbish,” Brian responds, still puffing his chest out and holding his nose up as every patron in the place watches.
“You think you get to be angry now? Stop being so selfish and think of Andy. How quickly do you think you’ll be committed again if you continue behaving the way you are now?” Brian’s unforgiving glare flicks around the cafe and he sees a room full of terrified people. In a jolting moment of clarity, Brian realises he’s close to becoming the deviant the doctors were afraid of at Green Fields. It’s only his second hour of freedom and Brian drops his gaze to the floor, appalled at his selfishness.
Dr Black says, “If they force you to return to Green Fields you will never re-gain custody of Andy. I’m not supposed to tell you stuff like that but I think you already know. You’re smart. At least I’m told you are. So act like a smart man and forget about finding your own happiness now.”
“What?” Brian looks up to meet her gaze. “I thought you were a psychologist? What the hell kind of advice is that?”
“I won’t report this incident to anyone, but you need to fix your attitude. The next few months are going to be hard. Probably the hardest you’ve encountered. There are no guarantees and if you make any mistakes, you risk being judged unfit to be a parent. Then your name is buried. Deep. Under a thousand others while Andy grows up without you.”
“OK,” Brian whimpers as he hunches over and cradles his head in the palm of his left hand.
“Excuse me; I think you should leave.” A rather large, older man is standing beside the table, hands on hips and insistence in his eyes. They ignore him.
“Please, Dr Black, if you’re really going to help, just tell me what to do.”
“I said I think you should leave, or I’ll call the police.”
“Everyone heard you,” Dr Black snaps, “Did you hear what my friend here said? He deserves a little leniency today and I’ll bet none of the people we’ve interrupted are doing anything other than chatting about far less important matters, so I really don’t care if they’re uncomfortable.” Dr Black finishes as she stands with a final mutter, “Pricks,” and drops some money on the table.
Brian is following Dr Black past the other tables, past the leers of others. People are whispering and someone, somewhere behind Brian laughs. He’s through the door and outside and he releases a deep breath he didn’t even realise he was holding.
Dr Black turns to Brian, poised to speak. His feet come to a halt and he knows he has no choice but to agree to anything she says.
“Let’s go for a walk. We have urgent things to organise. And don’t call me Dr Black . My name is Isabel.”
She turns, takes another step, scoffs to herself and turns back to face Brian once more.
“I want to help you, I really do, but if you carry on like that again in public and someone calls the cops, they’ll add it to your record. Do you understand that? No one in this system knows you; they only see a piece of paper that says you stabbed your son in the foot and attacked me with a bloody needle. Do you see how screwed you are? Do you see how much you need my help?”
“I never stabbed Andy.”
“Prove it.”
Chapter 20: A Single Powerful Stitch
Brian is walking away from the café in silence beside Isabel. The air is cold on his face and hands and above his hospital slippers, below his jeans. There are thick clouds in the sky and they pass, one by one, to be replaced by bulbous clones. Brian briefly wishes he had a jacket, but he glimpses straight up and then to the horizon and he decides it probably won’t rain.
The pair is moving towards the car park and they veer in the direction of Isabel’s Mercedes, but she walks past it. They stroll over the bitumen until Brian’s hospital slippers begin to soak up the lingering dew on the thick Aussie grass. The fabric of the footwear is saturated in seconds and he wonders why Isabel didn’t give him proper shoes if this had been her plan all along. He doesn’t bother complaining. He tucks his elbows in, trying to will the cold away and he knows that, once he’s been moving for a while, he’ll feel warmer. Brian and Isabel navigate their way through a small clearing before reaching a bike path and they turn to follow it.
“I wanted to ask you something,” Brian begins as he stops walking. He’s panting a little now and Isabel stops with him while he catches his breath. “I wanted to ask you, do you know anything about the way Annette died? Did she suffer?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know any of the details,” Isabel answers with sadness leaving her mouth like toothpaste at 7 am.
