“Not gonna happen,” I say, ready and willing to argue.
She huffs and throws her hands in the air. “Of course it won’t. God forbid we do things my way. I’m only the counselor.”
I reach out to her and run my thumb along her jaw. “Sweetheart, I’ll play this any way you like, as long as it starts off with me being within arms’ reach of you. There’s no way in hell I’m sitting outside with no idea what’s happening. I’m here to keep you safe.”
If the melty smile I get from Celia is any indication, I’ll guess she hasn’t felt protected in a very long time. That knowledge pisses me right the fuck off, but I beat that back to deal with the matter at hand.
“All right, Cain,” she whispers. She opens the door and steps out of the car, and I follow suit.
She gingerly steps over empty cans and wads of trash to reach the front door. After knocking, she peers into the tiny diamond window.
“Mr. Craig, it’s Celia from New Horizons. I’d like to come inside and visit with you, if that’s okay.”
I hear a faint shuffling coming from inside the camper. “Now’s not a good time Miss Celia. Go away!” says the frightened, muffled voice from behind the door.
“Your mother called me. She’s very worried about you, and so am I,” Celia pleads.
The door cracks only an inch, and a bewildered eye peeks through the opening.
“Who’s that?” Mr. Craig asks, and I’m sure he’s referring to me.
“I’m Cain, Mr. Craig, and I work at New Horizons with Celia,” I say, racking my brain for the words that will get us through the door. Fuck it, I’ll just be honest. “I don’t like Celia driving in this part of town alone, so I’m keeping her company today.”
Before I can finish my sentence, he opens the door and steps out onto the tiny porch. “I tell Miss Celia the same thing, but she never listens. It’s not safe here for a young woman all alone.”
I grin at Celia, victory written plainly across my face. “Ha!”
Celia shakes her head and walks up the steps and into the trailer. Mr. Craig waves me forward also, and I smile in return. I have to duck my head to fit through the door, and once I’m inside, it’s not much better. These campers weren’t made to accommodate tall people. As far as I’m concerned, they weren’t made to accommodate anyone.
Before I cross the threshold, the putrid smell of rotting food and stagnant body odor knocks the wind out of me. Now, I’m a fisherman. I’m a hunter. I’ve smelled some pretty awful shit in my day, but this is a whole new level of atrocious. It takes every ounce of effort in my body to keep a straight face, but I will myself to pretend there’s nothing wrong.
Celia smiles at Mr. Craig, and the girl deserves an Oscar, because I’m fighting back tears, and she looks like she’s smelling a bouquet of roses.
“Is it all right with you if we talk about my concerns in front of Cain, Mr. Craig? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or break your trust in any way,” Celia asks politely, hands clasped in front of her.
His eyes dart to mine, then shoot to the floor. He nods his agreement, but it’s obvious he’s ashamed. His salt and pepper hair is greasy in a way that indicates he hasn’t showered in days, maybe weeks. The underarms of his soiled shirt have sweat stains that have since dried at least a few times over.
“Are you sleeping?” she asks.
“It’s too loud in here … and I’m not very tired,” he whispers.
“I see … your mother says you won’t answer the door when she comes by to clean,” Celia looks around the trailer, giving the first indication that she notices the state of his home.
“It’s not safe for her here.” Mr. Craig won’t meet Celia’s gaze, keeping his eyes trained to the matted carpet.
“Are you taking your medications?” Although the question should sound accusatory, there’s not even a hint of judgment in her tone. After minutes pass with no response from Mr. Craig, Celia continues, “I’m not fussing, I just need to know what’s going on, so I can help you. If something happened to your medications, or if you weren’t able to take them for some reason, it’s all right. I just need you to be honest with me.”
“They’re trying to trick me,” he whispers. “My pills are blue, but the pharmacy sent white pills. I don’t take white pills.”
“Would you mind showing me the bottle?” Celia asks.
He reaches over to open the kitchen cabinet and hands her a medication bottle. She reads the label and places them on the counter.
“I’m so sorry this happened, Mr. Craig. This is the correct medication.” She holds up her hand when he starts to shake his head. “I know it looks different, but it’s the same medication and dosage. The pharmacy must have switched manufacturers, and they didn’t remember to tell you.”
“How do you know? Someone switched the pills, and they’re poisonous. I know it. I’m not taking them,” he says, fear laced throughout every word.
“You don’t have to take them. I’m not here to force you to do anything. But if something like this happens again, I hope you’ll come to me. We can look up the pills on the Internet—even call the drug company, to be sure. I don’t ever want you to take anything that would harm you, because I care about you very much. But I’m concerned because I think the voices are loud again. Am I right?” she asks, and his eyes fill with water.
“I hate this disease,” he whispers, a sob breaking through. “I hate what it’s done to me … to my family.”
“I’m sorry you have to go through this. I’m so sorry.” Celia places a gentle hand on his back as his tears fall.
Dusk settles in as we drive out of the hospital parking lot. I’m exhausted, and I imagine Celia is worse off than me. She didn’t even hesitate when I took the car keys out of her hand to drive.
“I can’t believe we had to drive three hours to find a bed for him. That’s ridiculous,” I say as I turn onto the highway, shaking my head in disbelief.
“There are never enough rooms available for psychiatric patients. It’s not uncommon for a patient to sit in the ER for days waiting for a bed. It’s discouraging, to say the least, but it comes with the territory.” Celia sighs and rests her head on the window.
“I hate to say it, but we may need to stop by the fire department to get a good hose down. A scrub brush to the nose may be in order, too.”
The stench has permeated the entire car, our clothes, and dare I say, even our skin. Although Mr. Craig is safely admitted to the hospital, his aroma lingers.
“I know being in this car with him was a whole new level of unpleasant. I’m really sorry, but thank you for being so understanding—for treating him like a human being.” She turns her head and smiles faintly.
“He is a human being.”
“Exactly, but so many people see the symptoms of the disease, and not the kind and gentle man underneath. When I see my patients at their worst, I try to remember them at their best. They shouldn’t be made to feel ashamed of their struggle. They’re still in the fight, after all. The only shame is in giving up.”
I watch Celia as she peers out the window. I’m in complete wonder of this woman—all the oddities and intricacies that make her who she is. She sees people for all they could be, instead of the broken bits they show everyone else. She possesses unimaginable strength under the façade of sass and spunk. There’s nothing weak about my Tink—not one fucking thing.
“You are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met, Celia,” I say, hoping she feels the naked honesty of my words. I reach for her hand and bring it to my lips, peppering her knuckles with kisses.
She shifts away from the window and places her head on my shoulder, clasping her arms around my bicep. “That means more to me than you will ever know.”