The Back Building Read Online Free PDF Page B

other girls. You are among the youngest I’ve ever had on my floor. Most of the women are older and I will warn you now, they aren’t all as astute as you are. Many are from very poor backgrounds and have no schooling. Still they are a very welcoming bunch. As a matter of fact we have our art class in an hour if you would care to join. It would be a good opportunity to meet the other patients.”
    “I guess I would like to go,” I answered, surprised by the invitation and insinuation that I was smarter than the women who were older than me.
    “Good. I will give you time to settle in a bit and get acquainted with the facility. The bathroom is just two doors down if you need it. You won’t be bothered otherwise. I’ll come get you when it’s time to go.”
    “Emily?” I asked feeling vulnerable.
    “Yes, Iona. What is it?” her arm gently across my shoulders.
    “I need my suitcase. They haven’t brought it to my room yet, and it has my things. I just want my things.”
    “I will look into that for you, okay? For now don’t worry, your things are safe.” She quietly closed the door behind her and I sunk into my thin mattress. I tightened my grip on my pillow, holding it to my chest and worried.
    There were seven girls, and myself, who went to the art participation class. (Counting paces was too difficult because I was busy sizing up the women.) Today we were making collages. We were to cut out pictures that appealed to us from magazines and then adhere them with glue to a canvas. I thumbed through a June edition of The Delineator from Butterick . The magazine mostly consisted of women’s fashions and rules of etiquette. Nothing interested me so I dispersed it into the common pile before me and my fellow charges.
    I made it a point to keep my eyes in my new magazine, Good Housekeeping , because one of the ladies in our group was growing irritated by something she saw. She started ripping the pages from the magazine and shredding and throwing the pieces she tore. She cried into her palms and began scratching and clawing at her skin like a wild animal, drawing blood. She seemed inconsolable, but then Emily reached for her hands and held them tightly together. Emily stopped the woman from hurting herself further and was able to calm her with her soft reassuring voice and by redirecting her focus to another magazine entirely.
    I learned this woman’s name was Mary and that she suffered from depression. Mary was subject to fits such as these regularly. The woman beside me was a chatty thing, she introduced herself as Ruth and claimed she was a grand duchess. Her duke was on his way to rescue her and would be here by nightfall. She described her castle in great detail from the turrets to the moats and described her silk gowns and jewels that waited for her upon her rescue. I listened empathetically, thinking how dire her circumstance was. It was no wonder why she was here and no wonder Emily said I was more astute. Some of these women had no sense of reality whatsoever. It was apparent that I was more together than the women I just observed, giving me hope my stay truly would only last one month.
    So far I knew Mary and Ruth. None of the art group participants were young like me. The lady across from me had one blue eye and one brown eye that I couldn’t help but stare at. She said I reminded her of her daughter. I later learned that her name was Patty, and that she had delusions of grandeur. Not only had she never been married, but she certainly didn’t have any children.
    Everyone progressed with their collage except for me. I couldn’t find one single picture that appealed to me so instead I began to draw. I drew a forest lush with trees and animals. I sketched the outdoors, it was where I belonged and I wondered why this was so wrong?
    After class, we lined the hallways with our projects as I had done as a child in grade school. A few of the women behaved as children, skipping and whistling through the corridors