Ramona is skating on the edge

                                

            
                                                SIX MONTHS LATER
Henry Summers sat alone at the dining room table in his mother’s imposing home. With his head cupped in his hands, he pondered his options. What was he to do? His mother had a meltdown of some sort and was being detained in the psychiatric ward at Grace Memorial. What the hell happened to make her snap like that, and what was he to do with her big-ass house? To add to his conundrum, his stepfather couldn’t understand why his wife believed him dead. The last time they went to see her, she called him an impostor. She said her beloved Steve was dead.

Steve was rocked to the core. He loved the passionate Ramona, even though she was the most self-centered woman of his acquaintance. What he loved most about her seemed to be the cause of his misery: she was independent and resourceful. Steve could not, would not believe she killed her first two husbands for financial gain.

“Ramona, for goodness sake, look at me, honey. I’m alive. I want you home. I miss you, sweetheart.” Steve pleaded.  Ramona refused to look at the bedraggled man standing before her. He had not shaved since he came home that terrible day they hospitalized her.

“Henry, darling, please take this impostor away. I can’t bear it. I’ve lost my precious Steve. I don’t know this person.”

 “This is Steve, although we’re both somewhat disheveled.  We’ve been so worried about you, “Mother. Look at me. Do you believe I would lie to you?”

She reached out to touch her son’s unshaved face. “No, darling, you’ve always been a model son.”

Pointing toward Steve, he whispered, “This is Steve, Mother. He is alive, and he loves you.”
She pulled her hand away as though burned and sneered, “Get out of here, both of you. I want you out now.” A nurse ran up to them. She looked kindly at both men. “Gentlemen, I must ask you to leave.”

On the way home, Steve lit his fourth cigarette as he drove along the ten-mile stretch of the Boulevard. “I suppose your mother wants to call it quits. We could have done it without the histrionics. You know, Son, I love your mother even when she is impossible, but I don’t know how long I can take this.” He sighed loudly as he ran a nervous hand through his thinning hair.

“I know, Steve, but promise me you’ll wait until her next evaluation, which should be any day now.”

“Then what? She admits to killing two men. I don’t believe it, but if it’s not true, why would she say she did it?”

“If she did kill my dad, I don’t know whether I can ever forgive her, Steve. A part of me is telling me, she probably did.”

“What?” He slammed on the brakes and pulled into a fast-food parking area.

With a trembling hand, he took another cigarette from the pack and lit it. He took a long drag before turning to Henry. “What would make you say something like that?”

“Mother has always been self-indulgent. When she wants something, she becomes obsessive. My dad was her first husband and couldn’t give her the fancy house she craved; she hated him for it. I’ll never forget their fights. But, there’s one thing I know for sure, Steve, she does love you. I have no doubt about that.”

“That gives me little comfort, Henry. How do I know she’s not plotting to off me for some trinket she thinks she wants?”

“Because she has everything she’s always wanted. My mother is a deep pit of need, which can never be filled. You’re closer to filling it than any of her husbands or lovers. Whatever mischief she’s up to, killing you is not a part of it. I hope she doesn’t cause any more problems at the hospital. Dr. Willis is the only person in our corner, at the moment. If Mom keeps aggravating the woman, she’s going to recommend a trial, and no telling what will happen then.”

The two men sat in the parking lot, each lost in similar thoughts: Was Ramona really psychotic, or was she acting out to avoid prison? What made her make confessions of murder to the police?

Ramona knew she’d been hospitalized for six months, or incarcerated as she preferred to call her captivity. Today, she sat just outside her cell by an oversized window. She peered through the metal bars that were affixed to the outside frame.  Behind her, several nurses gathered to discuss ways to get the recalcitrant woman to take her medications. Ramona sat motionless as she strained to hear the gist of their conversation.

Lucinda Ross was the charge nurse who never lost an opportunity to engage in a bit of gossip. It made working with the mentally unstable bearable. Ramona Wilbert was an enigma and had been since the day she was brought in. According to her chart, she confessed to murdering two of her three husbands. She believed the dead men were still alive and conspiring to murder her.

Lucinda snickered behind her hand when she recalled some of Ramona’s antics. When they removed the restraints from her wrists that bound her to the bed the first two weeks of her residency on the ward, she went missing. Every staff member on the ward was deployed to find her. A janitor was adjusting the curtains when he looked down to watch the start of the May Day parade. He laughed out loud.  Standing in front of the Waldorf High School band, shaking bright-yellow pom-poms and high stepping, white boots stood Ramona, readying herself to march down Parnassus Avenue. 

Dr. Susan Willis was summoned. She gathered three orderlies and exited the building discreetly. Two hours later, Ramona was once again tethered to her bed. She worked herself into a lather over not being able to march with the school band. Dr. Willis had no choice but to sedate her.

“See that she is given 100mg of Seroquel tomorrow, Lucinda. Ensure that she doesn’t chew or crush the pill.”

“And how am I to do that?”

“You’re a professional, you’ll figure it out.”

The nurse couldn't remember disliking a patient as much as she did Ramona Wilbert.
Once when one of the Licensed Vocational Nurses pulled a hand mirror from her purse to apply makeup, Ramona went berserk. She leaped from her chair by the window, and before anyone could subdue her, she wrestled the poor woman to the floor. When staff got her settled, the Nurse Director, Maribel Ramos, explained that Ramona’s experience with mirrors was the reason she was there. She issued a memorandum, citing staff members were not to use mirrors around her. They even covered those in the restroom in the room she had shared with another patient during the first two months of her residency.

One rainy night, after two months of listening to Melody Jenkins' snores, Ramona sneaked over to the sleeping woman and placed a pillow over her head.  Jules Morrison, a floor nurse, heard the commotion and raced in the room to find Ramona straddling Melody, and pressing  a pillow over her face. She appeared to be in some orgasmic frenzy as she yelled obscenities at the top of her lungs and bounced about on the woman’s chest.

He pulled the madwoman off the frightened woman and subdued her in her bed.
The floor was buzzing the next morning about Ramona’s attempt to murder her roommate.

“She’s not crazy, I tell you.” Lucinda said with an air of authority.

Angela Morris, a psychiatric nurse, looked askance at Lucinda. “What makes you think she’s not insane?”

“Her eyes. I tell you her eyes are just as sane as yours or mine. She never wanted to share a room, so now she gets to be alone.”

“Poor Miss Jenkins. She really is loony as all get out, but she didn’t deserve to be scared out of her wits. Mrs. Wilbert does have her moments.”

Lucinda looked around to ensure she and Angela were alone, before she leaned in, and spoke in a whisper, “I think she’s capable of murder. I’ve seen hardened murderers come through here with more compassion in their eyes than that one. Be careful, will you. I’ll watch your back if you promise you’ll watch mines, Angela?” Lucinda still talked with a bit of a brogue even though she’d been in America for over fifteen years.

“I sure will, Lucinda,” fresh-face Angela replied. At age twenty-two and just out of nursing school, she was happy to be taken into Lucinda’s confidence.

Ramona turned around furtively just as Angela and Lucinda walked in different directions. She knew from day one, the hospital was plotting with her devilish ex-husbands to take her out. Her only recourse was to pretend a fascination at the street activities below her seventh-floor room window.  She sat there every day listening and seeing what was said and done around her. The place was horrible. She argued with her son about being placed with all the nut cases. She hated the place. Everything was too damn sterile for her taste. No one had any fashion sense. She railed against wearing the drab hospital garb, and insisted on wearing its colorful scrubs. The staff relented to her demands. Her bellicose behavior caused them to handle her with extra care, and except to feed and medicate her, they left her alone. 

“Mrs. Wilbert,” Nurse Ross said sweetly as she approached the willowy woman. Ramona kept staring out the window. She gave no indication she heard the nurse speaking to her. Nurse Ross sighed heavily. She was in no mood for Ramona’s games. She’d been kicked, bitten and cussed at, and it was not yet noon.

“Mrs. Wilbert, I need you to turn around right now so you can take your medication. I said now.”

“Who are you?” Ramona asked as she stared unblinkingly at the woman standing beside her.

“Did you come here to take me home? Where’s Henry? He should have been here by now. I
wonder why he let them place  me in this desolate place. Everybody here is so fat and ugly. Where’s my son?” Her slight frame pulsated with suppressed anger.

“Perhaps your son can see through your ruse,” Nurse Ross said as she placed the tray containing Zyprexa and Seroquel on the end table near Ramona. She walked behind her chair and swung her around to face her. “I said, I want you to take your medication, now.”

Ramona eyed the medication, and became agitated. “I will not allow you to poison me, you, you… big person.”

Having struggled with weight gains all her life, Lucinda was finally feeling good about herself. The weight she gained during her last pregnancy was all gone, plus an additional twenty-five pounds. Her doctor recently congratulated her on her accomplishments. She was not about to allow this murderer to take away her self-confidence. Had she not been the sole breadwinner in her family, she would have pushed the scrawny old crow out that window she was so fond of staring out of. She motioned for Jules and Angela to join her. When the two nurses reached her side, she motioned for each to stand on either side of Ramona.

She clenched Ramona’s chin in her left hand, and applied pressure to her cheeks, as the two  nurses held her arms.

“Let me goooo…,” Ramona screeched before her mouth was forced open. Seeing she was losing the battle, she feigned a faint, which caused the nurses to relax their hold on her. Before either of the three staff members could discern what was happening, Ramona leaped up and raced down the hall. She stopped briefly at the open door to access the situation before turning left and running toward the stairwell.

“Who left that damn door open?” Nurse Ramos yelled. “Don’t stand around gawking, go bring her back here. This is it. If she wants to play games, then games she’ll have.” After sounding the alarm, she charged off in Ramona’s direction.

Ramona sprinted down the stairs, careful not to bring attention to herself as she descended the stairs quickly with her back pressed against the walls. She felt a sense of elation when she reached the first floor, but despaired when she noticed two beefy cops stationed at the double doors. The next floor down was the cafeteria, so she decided to try her luck there.  She knew time was not on her side; she could hear the commotion behind her.  The cafeteria was empty except for the cooks in the back. There were ladders and tools at the far side of the room. She took off once more. Just as her captors were about to enter the cafeteria, she noticed a small door near the base board. She eased her tiny frame through it and closed the door behind her.

“I know I saw her come in here,” Nurse Lucinda said as she looked around her.

Nurse Ramos glanced over the large room. She noticed ladders, buckets of paint and other remodeling supplies  pushed to the back of the room; she headed in that direction.

Ramona could hear footsteps coming in her direction. In a panic, she looked around. Right behind her was a ladder positioned against the wall. She had no idea where it would take her, but she stepped onto the first rung and scaled upward.

Angela was the first to notice the small door, and motioned for the group to follow her. She opened it and peered in. Ramona was stepping off the last rung when Angela spotted her. “Oh, my goodness. She’s in the ceiling, Nurse Ramos."

“Call Dr. Willis. Now.”

“How in the hell did she get up there?” One of the cops asked. As Angela explained what happened, Dr. Willis entered the cafeteria with a team of doctors.  Angela pointed her to the small door through which Ramona had gained access to the ceiling. 

Dr. Willis called out to Ramona. “Mrs. Wilbert, I need you to come down before you fall and hurt yourself. I promise, whatever is bothering you, we can talk about it.”

“You are a silly bitch; you're just like all the others. You want to fill me up with medications so Sam and Dave can kill me. They told me they would do it,” she finished as she looked around her, feeling  like a caged animal. She knew in a few minutes they’d be up there and haul her back downstairs to kill her, especially Nurse Ross. She couldn’t even rely on her own son. He’d brought in that imposter, pretending to be her beloved Steve.

“Mrs. Wilbert, we’re coming up to get you. I want you to stay put," Dr. Willis said as she tried to enter the narrow door, but decided against it and eased herself out .

Ramona took a tentative step onto the first tee grid. The building was old, and was well constructed. The tee grids that held the title were made of heavy metal and allowed her to stand on them without bending. About ten feet out, she felt more at ease.

“Oh, my goodness. Will you look up there, will you?” Lucinda said, covering her mouth in shock.

Fifteen staffs and two cops watched as Ramona walked from panel to panel. They followed her trek about the ceiling, each holding their breath in anticipation.

“Dr. Willis, sooner or later that woman is going to fall through the ceiling, and we’re going to have one hell of a law suit on our hands,” Nurse Ramos offered.

“I know, Maribel. The way I’m feeling right now, I think I need a rest from Mrs. Wilbert.”

"I know that feeling," Nurse Ramos grunted.

Lucinda sent a knowing look to Angela, who shrugged her shoulders and continued walking, and trying to keep track of Ramona's zigzag ambling across the ceiling.

Dr. Willis directed four orderlies to follow Ramona. Each held a corner of a sheet to catch her should she fall. She followed close behind with syringes filled with Haloperidol.

Ramona soon tired of walking from grid to grid. She discovered there was only one exit, and a cop was standing in it.  Through tears, she saw Dave and Sam standing beside him. Both were glaring at her.

“Get out of my life. Why won’t you stay dead?” she screamed.

The cop stood looking at the woman, surmising she was a certifiable case.

“We are out of your life. You killed us, remember?” Dave yelled back.

"You asked for it, you losers. “You,  you bastards, I’d kill you again if I had a chance, you, you…” so great was her anger, she failed to navigate the carefully charted path she’d walked for more than two hours. She slipped through one of the panels in such a way, her butt wedged into the small opening.  No matter how she struggled, she could not right herself enough to extricate her butt through the narrow opening.

Dr. Willis climbed atop one of the workmen's walkup ladders and injected a dose of haloperidol into one of Ramona’s hanging cheeks.

The woman shrieked and cussed and railed against the doctor. “You incompetent witch. I’ll have your license for this.

Dr. Willis stood waiting. Ten minutes later, she injected another dose of the medication into Ramona's other cheek.

Feeling totally defeated and humiliated, Ramona grew more and more lethargic.  She knew she was dying and hated the two men who were causing her untimely death. Her body grew limp and formed a perfect “U," which caused her to slip through the panel, and onto the sheet held by the orderlies.