Absolute Reality

Defensive Training

The security office at Briarcliff was a den of iniquity. Jude avoided visiting it at all costs. It reeked of multiple man sweat, cigarettes, numerous poorly crafted lunches and the farts those lunches created. Briarcliff had five security guards and about twenty orderlies and they all used the same office. Connected to it was their locker room, shower room, bathroom, break room and staff kitchen. So one never quite knew what to expect. Men being men: jostling, shouting, inappropriate conversation of the highest order and the profanity... This was the place to freshen up one's colorful euphemistic vernacular. She'd walked in on half naked staff eating directly from tins of potted meat on more than one occasion. Completely unsettling.

So she entered cautiously - the missive in her hand working as a shield against possible impropriety. But today seemed surprisingly quiet.

"Frank?"

"Sistah Jude!" The head of security was at his desk, writing something when she entered. He stood and flustered a bit. His cap was off, jacket hanging back of chair, tie loose and shirt unbuttoned to reveal a white v-neck tee. "I'm uh..." He was buttoning and tucking with purpose.

"Yar fine, Frank." So why was she blushing? "I really just need ya ta take a look at this lettah and tell me what the hell it is." She offered the pages.

"Huh." Re-situated, Frank sat. Gestured for her to use the chair across from his industrial-style desk. "Let's see here." He read. Jude sat, watching him. It was warm in here. No wonder he was so casually attired. "Ah, what a pain in the ass."

"What?" She'd been afraid of that. It had seemed like a pain in the ass. "What is it?"

"Looks like the state of Massachusetts - in all its imminent genius - is passing some new law requiring safety training for all faculty and staff in committal institutions."

Jude rolled her eyes. "Because I don't have enough ta do, clearly." She rubbed her temples. "What does it mean, Frank?"

He was still reading. Flipped to page two. "Oh, it gets worse. 'All staff relative to security or patient handling are to receive specially designed defensive training in response to recent injuries or deaths to faculty in institutional settings.'"

"Defensive training?" Jude shook her head. "I mean, far you and orderlies and security that makes sense, but...far a bunch of nuns?"

Frank shrugged. "I dunno. Might be good fer the nuns even more than us. Might actually be a good idea, boss."

Jude smiled, reaching into her pocket. "I'm glad you feel that way, Frank. Because I've selected you to oversee the training." She handed him the little blue training manual.

"Me?!" He stood. "Why me?"

"Yar head of security!" Jude gestured to him. "And you have military combat experience. And the manual recommends that the facilitator have experience or previous training."

"But - but Carl has -"

"So you and Carl can split the responsibility." Jude shrugged.

"Sistah!" Frank rubbed his head. "I ain't no teacher."

"Frank. Look." Jude stood, too. Leaned toward him on his desk. "If you'll train us - the senior staff so ta speak, me and Eunice - we can share the training with the othah sistahs."

Frank sighed deeply. "Dammit....Alright, look. Here's what we'll do. Tuesday, Carl can take on orderlies and medical staff. In the common room after lights out. Wednesday, I'll take you and Eunice and the Monsignor."

"The Monsignor?" The nun was shocked. "Why? He's hardly here enough -"

"But he has contact with patients. And I'm not disregarding state mandated instructions. That's gettin' us in hot water, fer sure. I don't wanna be on the hook fer any misreporting."