up for something you really want. Like a bar of rose-scented soap.
There’s a list of fifteen items you can purchase with a week’s worth of earnings:
1. the pick of Friday’s rented movie — 18 points
2. use of the unit’s Walkman and the new Beyoncé CD — 18 points
3. your choice for weekly chore — 15 points
4. an extra hour before lights out — 15 points
5. an hour of your favorite TV show — 15 points
6. choice of dessert — 15 points
7. writing journal — 12 points
8. hospital library use — 12 points
9. hot rollers — 12 points
10. hairbrush — 12 points
11. toothbrush — 8 points
12. shampoo — 6 points
13. toothpaste — 6 points
14. bar soap — 6 points
15. visitors — 2 points
The morning is for private therapy — there are seventeen girls to be heard and only five days in the workweek. We meet with our self-help groups and our social workers. With visitors from the outside.
The afternoon is lunch, group, chores, and a little free time to think about where we are and where we’d like to be.
We are assigned one day a week to wash our laundry, unless there are emergencies.
We set out plates, cups, and plastic forks and knives for dinner. They don’t miss a chance to protect us from ourselves. We, who are unlucky in love, who might use the prongs of a fork to pierce our hearts.
We watch the evening news with Brian Williams.
We bargain for the right to a vegetarian diet when we see it’s meat loaf.
More TV.
We thumb through
Cosmopolitan
and
Us
magazine. We sew buttons onto our shirts.
Write letters to friends who have forgotten us.
We talk among ourselves about what we miss the most: the clean, fresh air of our lives on the outside.
We read:
Salem’s Lot, The Hanson Brothers: A Biography, The Secret of Creating Your Future, Love’s Savage Embrace, Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?
We count how many days, and has it grown into months, that we’ve been here.
On Fridays we have occupational therapy: we use the computers to build a résumé; learn how to sit for an interview (legs crossed, hands folded, smile, even if it takes all you’ve got); we learn how to dress, no flashy colors and nothing above the knee on show; they teach us a proper handshake; we role-play the perfect scenario.
Business leaders from the community come and tell us what they like to see in an applicant: nicely groomed, smile, know your stuff, be polite. They’ll be trusting us with their livelihood — their customers. We’ll be the front people, representing the business. We can’t chase away their only source of income.
On Tuesdays and Thursdays we have recreational therapy. Physical exercise is important for a full recovery. The endorphins are a natural high. You can’t be unhappy when you’re running three miles around the gym floor. You’ll feel better physically and you’ll feel better about yourself. You’ll like who you are. Exercise is the key to changing your future. It’s control.
We play basketball and learn the importance of a team spirit. Of cooperation. People depend on you. You don’t want to let them down.
Do something wrong and you lose. You’ve let down your team. You feel shame, if you’re any kind of team player.
This kind of lesson works in your everyday life, they say. Teamwork will help you get along with others. You’ll love your neighbor. You’ll stop at the scene of a car accident and give first aid. You’ll develop a world conscience — you’ll want to recycle, you’ll stop using plastic, and you’ll shut off the light when you leave a room.
On Wednesdays we have art therapy. The first week we made greeting cards. They went to all the
carrozas
in the nursing home down the street. We learn to crochet or knit. We sew holiday crafts: wreaths that went to the local churches and ornaments that went to hospitals. We paint with watercolors. We mold clay into ashtrays or hot plates. Some of our things are sold at the hospital auxiliary.
They tell us