Hearts on Spades

I met Gloria when I was sixteen years old. She came up to me, wearing a canary yellow cardigan and sat down next to me while I played solitaire on one of the common room tables.

“You look like my Ramon,” she whispered, her wispy white hair meticulously brushed

down on either side of her face.

“Who’s Ramon,” I asked, playing a jack of hearts on a queen of spades.

“Ramon, my love, my truth.”

“Oh,” I said.

We were in the PARC unit at El Salvador Hospital and lunch was in ten minutes. I was

just killing time really, waiting on my burger and Pepsi.

“Remember, Ramon, when we spent that night together at the Rajputana Hotel in Jaipur?

You told your wife you were going to India to find yourself, I brought that bottle of cognac? The

bed had those silk sheets...”

I didn’t say anything. Ten goes on jack.

“Don’t go back to your wife, Ramon,” Gloria said, staring at me. “Stay here with me.”

I looked around. Jeff was wandering up and down the hallway, muttering. Forrest was

sitting down at the other end of the table, chewing on puzzle pieces. Nurse Carlene was behind

the desk, gossiping with Nurse Mark, and the security guard - I don’t remember his name - was

standing behind them, leaning against the wall, fingering his yellow taser.

I had been in the PARC unit for a week-and-a-half, ever since my mother had checked me

in. It was a horribly depressing place. Teal wallpaper and plastic seats, the kind you find in

middle school auditoriums, dotted the common room which branched off into small private

rooms with wheeled beds and burnished steel sheets instead of mirrors. It had that sick, musty

odor that comes with long-term hospital residences.

“Ramon was a man,” Gloria was saying. She stroked her hair. “He was a man above men

and he would kiss my toes and tell me about the necklaces and pearls he’s going to buy me. I

used to have hair like that,” she said, pointing at the cover of a People magazine. She held the

magazine up next to her face. “See how soft it is? Like air and gold, Ramon would say.”

“Uh, huh.”

Gorm sat down across from me, scratching his beard and slumping on the table. “Eats

almost here?” he said to no one in particular.

“I once canonized a man,” said Gloria.

“Shut up, you old bat,” said Gorm. He thumbed at Gloria. “What are you doing hanging

out with this loon?”

“I’m not hanging out with her, she just sat down next to me.”

“Why would you say such a thing, Ramon?”

“Alright, everyone, lunch time.” Nurse Carlene was wheeling in the cart full of lunch

trays. Gorm sat up, his eyes glistening. Carlene unlocked the cart and started handing out meals.

She placed a tray encased in saran wrap in front of me. Gorm was already ripping into his own,

dipping his roll into the little tub of butter.

“Um, excuse me?” Gloria was flagging down Nurse Carlene. “Could I get some sushi?

Pasta upsets my stomach.”

“We don’t have sushi, Gloria. If you don’t want spaghetti just eat your side salad.”

Behind me at the other table Jeff was grumbling.

“Where’s my Pepsi!” he yelled. “I ordered a Pepsi, every day I order a Pepsi, where’s my

Pepsi! I need it!”

Gorm shook his head over his burger. “If Jeff doesn’t shut the hell up I’m gonna lose my

shit, I swear to God.”

“Pasta upsets my stomach,” repeated Gloria.

“Can it lady! Eat your spaghetti.”

“Ramon! Say something to him!”

I picked up my Pepsi and went over to Jeff. Nurse Carlene was talking to Jessica who

was shaking her head, her lips pressed together. Nurse Mark was still behind the desk. I placed

the Pepsi down next to Jeff and sat down.

“There it is,” he said. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his t-shirt. “Thanks

buddy, I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“You want a quarter? I’ve got a 1983 bicentennial quarter for you, here.” And he

removed his shoe and pulled out a quarter. He handed it to me.

“I don’t want your quarter, Jeff.”

“Take it. You know, my mom used to make me eggs every morning. Sexy eggs, I called

them.”

“Put that shit back in your shoe, Jeff, it smells terrible.”

He looked at me with his eyes sliding all over my face. “Doesn’t want my quarter,

doesn’t want my quarter,” he muttered. “How is he gonna call anyone?” Jeff twisted off the cap

to the Pepsi and took a small sip. He smacked his lips. “Five nickels in a quarter,” he said. “Four

quarters in a dollar. One hundred cents. Mother gives Jeff five nickels for a soda. Five nickels...”

I got up, abandoning my lunch and went back to my room, closing the door behind me. I

slumped onto my bed and it banged against the wall, the wheels clattering.

The door cracked open and Nurse Mark peeked in. “You gotta keep this open, Isaac, you

know the rules.” And he disappeared.

I pulled the thin blanket over my head and sank into blissful darkness.

***

“Alright, now use crayons or markers, whatever you want, but I want you to draw a

picture of how you see yourself.”

I had no interest in drawing myself. I grabbed a blue crayon and put my finger to my chin

as if I was thinking. I looked over at Tara, who was sitting next to me. She wasn’t drawing either.

Across the table Gorm was furiously scribbling at what looked like a balloon surrounded by red

static.

“Alright,” said Nurse Stephanie. “Let’s see what you drew. Forrest?”

Forrest held up a pastel picture of a tall man with a horse next to him.

“What does the horse represent, Forrest?” Stephanie asked.

“I like horses,” replied Forrest.

“Very nice,” said Stephanie. “What is it you like about them? Is it that they are calm?”

Forrest shook his head. “Do you have a cigarette?” he asked.

“No, Forrest. Do you need a nicotine patch? No? C’mon now, tell me what you like about

the horse.”

“He listens to me,” said Forrest. “His name is Brandy.”

“Okay. Let’s see what you drew, Tara.”

Tara crossed her arms. “This is stupid. I’m not drawing any stupid self-portrait.”

Stephanie leaned across the table. “You’ve got to, Tara. You’ve got to participate. Unless

you want to stay with us forever.”

I twisted my fingers. I imagined snapping each one and wringing my hand in the air - a

limp bag of bones. If I was to make a self-portrait I would cover my face in paint and slam it

onto a piece of paper. Let them psychoanalyze that.

***

File: 2273

Name: Isaac Bell

Age: 16

Brought in by his mother on August 21st, 2014. Unresponsive at the time. Allegedly

patient 2273 spent four days locked in his room at home, refusing food, not moving from the

same corner with all the blinds drawn. Mother said that the only time he left his room was to go

to the bathroom and get water. Patient came in unresponsive, nonviolent, but refused to talk to

doctors and nurses. Notable odor.

***

Jessica was in the middle room, groaning again. She would sit by the low wall that

separated the common room from the carpet that ran around it and whimper. Down there on the

ground, in her faded blue scrubs and moan into her arms. Low groaning calls. At first it used to

bother me. Why was she crying? What was the matter? Why didn’t someone do something? But

you got over that.

Gorm ambled in next to me and Tara, looking over his shoulder and carrying a

newspaper. “Check this out,” he said, sitting down. “I’ve got a list of cars here, I’m gonna fuck

with Jeff. You in?”

I didn’t want to fuck with Jeff. Jeff was like that kid in your class who was always acting

out. He was always shouting at the teacher and throwing Matchbox cars across the room. What

could come from messing with him? But I wasn’t about to tell someone what to do.

Gorm got up and walked slowly over to the telephone. It was a silvery old fashioned

phone, the kind you find in telephone booths. Grime on the numbers from the people punching in

calls to home or friends. Gorm fumbled with the key pad for a bit and then I heard the other

phone ring.

Forrest answered it.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr... Mr. Jeff, is he there? This is an important business

opportunity.”

I saw Forrest get up and fidget his way over to Jeff’s room and call in. Jeff came out a

moment later, scratching at a head losing the battle with baldness. He went over to the phone and

picked it up.

“Yes, this is R. J. Spanner from Kennedy auto-dealership,” Gorm said, looking at his

newspaper. “I wanted to tell you you’ve been selected to win a brand new Ford F150 for the low

price of fifteen hundred dollars. Yes, that’s right. You have the nickels in your room you say?”

Gorm looked over at me grinning and I cracked a wan smile. “Well, that’s great, why don’t you

just come down here to 233 West Bingham road and come pick it up. I’m sure you have been

waiting for this call, yes. Sure, you can let your friend Eric know after you come get it.”

Over by the other phone, Jeff was standing up. “I won!” he was yelling. “I won!” He ran

unsteadily over to the magnetic door with his arms in the air and shook the handle. He scrabbled

at the white paint, banging on the door until Nurse Stephanie hurried over to him with the

security guard in tow, and they tried to lead him back to his room.

“R. J. Spanner!” he shouted. “R. J. Spanner, I have to go pick up my truck! They have a

Ford, a red Ford, waiting for me at the shop!” He ran back to the door and shook the handle.

“Why can’t I get out? Why can’t I leave? There’s a man, waiting for me, I have to go. R. J.

Spanner!”

The security guard and Stephanie seized Jeff by his arms, wrenched them behind his

back, and wheeled him around, walking him back to his room as he insisted that he had

somewhere to be, that he needed his coin collection.

Gorm sat down next to us again, chortling through his nose and shaking his head. “I’ll

give this to the guy, he always rises to the occasion.”

Jessica let out a piteous whine. She stood up, trembling in her striped t-shirt and blue

scrubs. Her hair fell limply on either side of her face and her eyes squinted. She tottered over to

us with her arms spread. I couldn’t tell if she was looking at me or not but she was obviously

waiting for someone to embrace her. I sat staring at her. She whined again. A soft choking whine.

A spit bubble formed on her lips.

I didn’t stand up. I turned back to the table and planted my palms on the wooden surface.

Behind me I could hear Jessica letting out her noises. I heard Tara say, “Can I help you?” and

Nurse Mark hurry over and pull Jessica away, prodding her to her room and admonishing her.

“No touching,” he said to her, and I saw her close her eyes and give the ceiling a puppy-like

yelp. There was no answering chorus from the heavens. Nurse Mark came back into the common

room and walked up to us.

“Sorry about that,” he said to me. “She’s always trying to give people hugs. You did the

right thing, just ignore her. We don’t want to encourage that kind of behavior.”

I nodded.

***

When I was nine years old I found a baby bird on the ground outside my window. I

picked it up and brought it inside and my mother told me to take it back out. She said I didn’t

know what kind of diseases it had. I surrounded it in bits of grass and t-shirt in order to keep it

warm, but all night, I could hear it crying outside. Wailing. I tossed and turned in my bed while

that baby bird cried. That was one of the only times I ever prayed, that night. Prayed that the

mother or father bird would come down and swoop it up. In the morning I went back out and it

was gone. I never knew what happened to it, but the t-shirt was five feet away and the grass had

been scattered about. My mother said that a fox might have gotten to it. That didn’t bother me so

much as the fact that it had been outside all night by itself crying. And the only person to hear it

didn’t do a thing.

***

Gloria died in her sleep, they said. I saw them carrying her folded cardigans and sweaters

out of the unit, stuffed into clear plastic bags. Her silver necklace they placed in a ziplock. They

wheeled her out in a black bag, on a metal trolley. Nobody asked when the funeral would be. I

had never seen anyone visit her during my time in the PARC unit. No Ramon ever came to see

her. I wondered if he was real or a figment of her imagination. I liked to think he was out there.

That at some point Gloria had been loved and given pearl necklaces and had spent nights with

this faceless Ramon in a hotel in India. But maybe I just hoped that because the thought of dying

alone in a hospital bed with nothing to show was too depressing. Maybe if I imagined her in

India with Ramon, her sipping champagne and him admiring her hair, then I could imagine that

that baby bird was found. That Jeff got his red Ford. That Jessica got her hug. And that one day,

I’d draw that damn self-portrait in fine charcoal pencil. Hang it up on my wall and when people

walked in it would be the first thing they saw. And they’d say, “Isaac, that’s beautiful.” And I’d

reply, “I know.”