Victor Lavalle - The Devil in Silver

Sam said, “I don’t know, but if you hum a few bars I can fake it!”

This made the two of them crash backward with laughter. Their chairs buckling. They laughed so loudly that Loochie, right beside them, pulled her knit cap down over her ears. That only made the two women laugh more.

“You’re giving that poor girl brain damage,” said Sammy.

“Well, we’re in the right place for it!” shouted Sam.

Coffee tapped his pen against the table. “Dr. Barger,” he said. “The number?”

Now the doctor knocked on the table with force and the women’s laughter quieted. Even Coffee stopped tapping the pen.

Then the nurse spoke up. “These books won’t be useful anyway.”

Dr. Barger looked over his shoulder. “Excuse me, nurse ?”

“Have you looked at the collection lately?”

Everyone in the room scanned the shelves. This Bookmobile was hardly a fine library. It looked like the dumping grounds for vocational-training manuals. ( ISP — Industrial Security Professional Exam Manual; Automotive Technician Certification: Test Preparation Manual; Medium/Heavy Duty Truck Technician Certification: Test Preparation Manual , and so on.) There were a few spy novels, a few mysteries, the Book of Common Prayer (it had curse words written in the margins of many pages). Not great reading material maybe, but also only one or two copies of each. Not enough for everyone. The nurse was right. Not only poor quality, but also poor quantity.

Dr. Barger couldn’t pretend to miss the problem. But he could refuse to admit the fault was his. He looked up at the nurse and said, “I told you to bring all the books from the trunk of my car.”

Before the nurse could argue, explain, or apologize, Dorry proposed, “Why don’t we vote on one book we want to read together. Then maybe New Hyde could get us all copies of that.”

Pepper pointed at the book cart. Why did it bring him a childish pleasure to see the choices were so bad?

“What do you mean?” he joked. “Don’t we all want to read the Medium/Heavy Duty Truck Technician Certification: Test Preparation Manual ?”

Dorry tapped Pepper’s forearm, another subtle but effective correction. “I can speak to Dr. Anand. I’ll get him to buy us the books.”

Dr. Barger strained forward at the table. “ You’ll talk to Dr. Anand?”

Sammy and Sam clapped. Sammy said, “We like this idea. A title to vote for.”

Dr. Barger just shook his head. “Fine then. I’ll buy us the books if I have to.”

Dorry grinned at the other patients, ignoring Dr. Barger’s glare. “Isn’t that generous?”

“Georgina, will you go get us some tape, and a legal pad?” Dr. Barger asked the nurse.

She nodded, but just as she left the room she said, “My name is Josephine.”

“Better bring a black marker, too,” Dr. Barger said.

Something in Josephine wanted to argue the point —Say my name, say my name! — but realized Dr. Barger was one of a dwindling population: old mutts who were never trained to find others terribly worthwhile. Have an hour’s conversation and these men might be charming, funny, captivating, and kind. But they wouldn’t ask you a single question about yourself. Not one. They simply wouldn’t be interested. They were never trained to be curious about others, and they sure weren’t going to start now. At twenty-four, Josephine already knew she could spend the next minute trying and failing to make Dr. Barger hear her, or she could do something to help these patients. Only one choice was worth it. She left the room to fetch the man his pad and pen and tape.

Dr. Barger said, “Okay, so let’s have some suggestions for books.”

One of the two jokers raised her hand.

“Thank you, Sammy.”

“I’m Sam,” the woman said. “ She’s Sammy.”

Dr. Barger said, “What’s your choice then, Sam .”

But it was Sammy who answered. “Ask Click and Clack ,” she said.

Dr. Barger’s nostrils flared. “I have no idea what that is.”

Pepper leaned across the table, toward Sammy and Sam. “The Tappet brothers, right?” He looked at the doctor. “It’s a radio show called Car Talk . I love that show.”

Sam pointed at Pepper enthusiastically. “See that, Frankenstein knows what we’re talking about.”

Despite himself, Pepper laughed.

Sammy applauded him. “Hey, that’s nice. Frankenstein’s got a sense of humor.”

Sam and Sammy whistled and cheered.

Dr. Barger knocked on the table again. “We’re not reading a car book.”

Then Loochie spoke, no hand raised, no permission requested. She said, “Magazines.”

“What does that mean?” the doctor asked.

Loochie shrugged. “ Magazines . That’s what I like to read in here. Vibe. XXL. Black Hair .”

Pepper said, “You want us all to read Black Hair in Book Group?”

Sammy opened her mouth, she had a joke, but thought better of sharing it.

Dorry spoke calmly. “No offense, Loochie, but I think the rest of us are too old for XXVibe or whatever it’s called.”

Loochie laughed like a native speaker at a foreigner attempting to master her tongue.

Josephine returned with the materials.

“How about Ken Kesey?” Josephine suggested. “ One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest ? That book meant a lot to me in high school. I think you all might really like it.”

Sammy frowned. “Well, why don’t you read Slaughterhouse Five to a roomful of cattle.”

Sam shook her head. “You’ll have to excuse my best friend. She only reads the covers of great books.”

Sammy grinned. “That’s usually the best part!”

Josephine didn’t give up.

“I just thought you all might like it because it’s about a mental hospital.”

Dorry took off her glasses, which instantly made her look less nuts. Her eyes were smaller, and she seemed younger by ten years. She blew on the lenses, and small specks of dust, flakes of skin, and dandruff fell like flurries toward the tabletop. She put the glasses back on and, nutty again, looked at the nurse.

“Here’s what you have to understand about that book, Josephine . As good as it is, it isn’t about mentally ill people. It takes places in a mental hospital, yes. But that book is about the way a certain young generation felt that society was designed to destroy them. Make them into thoughtless parts of a machine. To lobotomize them. That book is about them , not about people like us .”

Josephine stammered, trying to respond, but Dorry didn’t stop talking.

“If you remember the patients who really mattered in that story, most of them were voluntary . Do you remember what the main characters called the other ones? The ones who would never leave because they could never be cured?”

“No,” Josephine admitted quietly.

“The Chronics. Most of them were vegetables. Brain-deads. Maybe violent. Chronically sick. Diagnosed as everlastingly damaged. All of us here at Northwest? That’s who we are. Northwest is nothing but Chronics. We’ve all been committed, and most of us are not voluntary. So why would we want to read a book that barely mentions us except to tell us we’re fucked in the anus ?”

Dr. Barger shouted, “Dorry!”

Josephine could withstand Dr. Barger’s callousness, but to get torn down by Dorry actually hurt.

“I was only trying to …”

Her eyes reddened, and she quickly walked out of the conference room without looking back.

How could Dorry know all this? Josephine thought. How does some daffy old lady mental patient in a New Hyde psych unit understand that book better than me? Josephine didn’t mean to be so dismissive, but it came surprisingly easily. Then, almost as quickly, she questioned many of the judgments she’d made in her life. Mental patients can’t be intelligent. Junkies can’t be articulate. And so on. But really, honestly, how many did she actually know? Josephine left the room feeling embarrassed and shallow, but also determined to do better, to know these people, with time.