Just Me, Him, and Ten Others - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 5

The next few days dragged by. I attended more therapy sessions, endured more of my new life of constant supervision, and spent a lot of time in the phone room: it was the small cupboard next to the toilets, along the main corridor, with two phone booths so close together that there may as well have been no divider between them. Privacy did not exist in a place such as this. Even when my own support group leaders, Jonathan and Sarah, rang for me, I couldn't speak to them without a nurse loitering by the door.
               I added to my book, although the difficulty I had to go through to acquire a pen now was almost not worth the short periods of time I could spare in the day to write. Between therapy, visiting hours, phone calls, meal times, physical activity, leisure time (enforced to help all of us interact more, or at all) and movie nights, I often found myself scribbling down notes last thing before I went to bed, but now that was hardly an option. I spoke to Dr Westone about it but there was nothing he could do. Keeping a diary was 'highly recommended' here, and so I could at least write in my butterfly notebook after that as I would already have a nurse sitting between me and Salieri while we wrote. Still, I hated not having the freedom to express myself in the best way I knew how, whenever I wanted.
               Luckily for me, by 22 I was very used to having that right taken away.

Mama knew that. I phoned her that Friday to talk. If anyone could listen, it was her. Grandma was a good advice giver, Hunter was my comfort and Andy was...well, a brother - not particularly talented at any of those things, but he gave me thick skin. Sarah and Jonathan were fixers, and my closest friend in the world, Susie, was the only person who could really understand. But when I just wanted someone to listen, that was Mama.
               'Mama?'
'Is that my little Ruthie? Ah, my bellissima bambina!'
'Hey, Mama! How are you doing?' I put my feet up on the chair in the phone room, leaning as far away as I could from the nurse in the doorway.
'I'm just fine, thank you darling. Tell me all about yourself! What's going on up in Sheffield?'
'Not too much. I've got a new roommate! She's nice. She's like me when I was younger. We get along. Hunter's been to see me a few times, and Andy said he'd come as soon as he could get away from work early enough to get here on time. Therapy's going really well. I'm working through a lot of stuff - oh, and get this: Dr Westone met Charity for the first time on Wednesday.'
               (Charity is an alter of mine: much older than Ruth, wise beyond her years and more virtuous than a saint. She's almost like a second mother to me, but American and Baptist, rather than Italian and Catholic.)
               'Oh! I bet they got along really well!' Mama said.
'Actually, not as well as I thought they would. I think, because Westone and Charity are both quite placid, quite knowledgeable people, it was just a little awkward. You know Charity can make friends with anyone, but this time I think they were actually too similar! But then, they're also different, know what I mean?'
'Oh boy, yes I do.' Mama laughed. 'Just yesterday I went out with some people from work, and I wore a red dress with pink shoes. I got all the way to the restaurant before I realised it didn't work - and everyone else there was too polite to tell me!' I laughed now too.
'Mama! What did I tell you about mixing similar colours!?'
'To not to, I remember that now.' She exhaled happily. 'Ah, this is nice. I miss having you around, Ruth.'
'I miss being around.' I sighed. The phone cord was tight around my finger.
'When Andy and Hunter came down last week, it was so quiet in the house! It wasn't the same without you.'
'Well I'm sure it was still nice for you all.' I said, trying to act light-hearted.
'Not as nice as it would have been with you there.'
               Mama paused before continuing, 'So the people in this new 'wing' are nice?'
'Oh yeah, lovely. I can have a proper conversation with these people, and the nurses are much friendlier. We're all a lot more, well, hurt as opposed to actually deluded. Different kind of crazy.' I smiled, even though Mama couldn't see it.
'Well I suppose that's good. Are you still writing?'
'Yeah.' I said vaguely. I thought it best not to elaborate on the whole pen thing: I only had a few more minutes of phone time left and Mama would definitely want to rant at a nurse about that. 'I just revisited the bit where Hunter and I had our first proper argument.'
'Oh? What was it about?'
'The only thing we've ever argue about. My alters, and Mike.'