In My Bed (18+)

Chapter 33

Walking up to the non-emergency entrance of Chambers Memorial Hospital, I shifted the bag of takeout in my hand. With a glance behind me, I gave the lock button of my keys one more beep before putting them away in my purse.

The large, sprawling complex had once been a fairly modest hospital, but several massive expansion projects had given it the haphazard silhouette of a fairytale castle with its random towers and wings.

It also made the interior an absolute labyrinth to navigate.

Bracing myself, I went through the large, revolving front door, walking up to the information desk. A large building layout map hung over the desk, and I studied it, feeling completely out of my depth.

"Hi! Can I help you?"

"Um," I looked down, meeting the gaze of the attentive man on the other side of the desk, "I'm here to have lunch with my mom - apparently she's helping out in the psych unit today?"

He smiled, "And I'm guessing you have no idea how to get there?"

I shook my head, "She's worked here for years - you'd think I could remember where things are."

The man pulled out a notepad and began writing, "I don't blame you. Sometimes, I swear the rooms move around just to confuse me." Ripping the top sheet off, he held it out. "Here - if you do manage to get lost, find someone wearing scrubs and they'll point you in the right direction."

Chuckling, I took the paper, "I will, thanks!"

After a brief elevator ride, a long series of blandly decorated hallways, and two wrong turns, I found myself standing outside the doors to the psych unit waiting room. White walls greeted me, hung with massive, close-up photographs of flowers.

With the flimsy handles of the plastic bag clutched tight within my hand, I checked in with the woman at the nurse's station. She watched me with a bored expression, her hands busy typing as I explained who I was there to see.

"Okay," she sighed, radiating exhaustion, "I'll let her know that you're here."

I thanked her before stepping away and finding a seat in the sea of sterile gray armchairs.

Setting the bag of takeout on the coffee table in front of me, I exhaled relief. The muffled, ambient noise of the hospital wound around me, and I settled in for a wait, enjoying the wafting aromas of the takeout.

It wasn't long before a side door opened, revealing Mom in a bright pink set of scrubs.

"Hey hun!" The door latched behind her with a subtle beep, and the keycard reader beside the handle glowed red.

"Hey!" I stood, picking up the food, "Ready for lunch?"

"Oh my god," she groaned, "you are my hero."

Mom led the way, giving me a rundown of her day as we walked, "...and, truthfully, I don't mind covering on other units, but I can't stand the decor in there."

"The decor?" I asked, amused.

"It's just so gray. I mean, if you go down to pediatrics, there's colors and murals and vibrancy everywhere." Grumbling, she added, "You'd think they'd want some of that joy for the psych patients."

We approached a door that said, "Staff Only," and Mom held it open for me.

Walking inside, I found a windowless, fluorescent-lit room with several round tables encircled by basic black chairs. A kitchenette took up one wall, and a row of small metal lockers spanned across another.