White Walls and Chucks

White Walls.

How freaking ironic. I thought as I entered my temporary room. Just like a scene from Girl Interrupted.

I saw the neatly folded lavender scrubs laying on the bed. I held the scrub top up to me. It was too big. I grabbed the pants. Too big, too long. I tossed the pants back on the chair.

"They're yours. " A voice chimed from the doorway. Startled I turned to see a guy much younger than me. A beautiful guy. A guy with perfectly shaped rosy lips and whose eyes jumped right out and sucked you in. Deep ocean blue eyes. Just like He had. My heart began pounding.

" They're at least a size bigger than my norm. " I replied as he leaned against the door jam.

" Norm." He laughed. " You'll never hear that word around here that much. " He stood up, stretching until his fingers tips touched the top of the doorway. His shirt slightly raised exposing his stomach.

"What you in for?" He asked.

"It's not jail," I mumbled.

"It is to some. What's your name?"

I turned away and picked the shirt up again.

"Nice Lucchese's." He said pointing to my boots.

Even more aggravated I walked over to the chair, slumped down in it, and glared at him.

"Well, ok then Boots-- I'll see ya around." He waved then brushed his long blonde bangs back away from his face. And with a move as smooth as James Charles, he pivoted on his laceless chucks and headed back into the hall.

I remained motionless in the chair still clinging to the scrub top.

"Your laces." A voice abruptly commanded from the doorway.

I turned to see Pudge looking down at my feet, spotting my boots. She grumbled.

"I will find you a pair."

So it is true. They do take your shoelaces.

The clock that was so high up that it nearly touched the ceiling was encased in a protective cover and read 8:53 a.m.

What do they think people will do? Stab themselves with the minute hand?

Pudge walked on in and handed me a laminated yellow card. "You'll need to register with Dr. Letifi at 11 a.m. Please put your scrubs on. I have to take your clothes and have them processed. If you need a hairbrush and toothbrush go to the Supply Office. Sign in. Show this card. This is your new ID."

" No, it's not." I held the card out to her.

" Excuse me?" She snatched the card from me and double-checked it. She had very short black hair, cut in an under shave.

"That isn't my name. " I removed my shirt and bra and slipped the scrub shirt on. The nurse looked away.

"Your name is Focus Reeves? Born October 13, 1986?" I checked my wrist bracelet. "Birthdate matches. This is your ID." I turned back around and handed me the card again.

"No. I never took his last name. Whatever." I snatched it back."Admin can straighten it out."

"I'm Bek, your weekend floor nurse." She gathered up my clothes.

"In the future, Mrs--" I glared at her

"..Uh...Focus... Do not change in front of staff ." She held up my bra. "Once it's processed you'll need to wear it all the time during the day. There are males here."

" Ya think?" I sat back on the bed fighting tears.

Nurse Bek paused. She shifted in her thick white nursing shoes a few times before speaking again.

"How do you process clothes?" I asked just now noticing the bed next to me was empty.

Dear God in heaven please do not give me an annoying roommate.

"Washing, sterilization, drying." She looked at me like I was supposed to know this.

"Mmm. Ok then." I said tugging the drawstring to my pants tighter.

"Anyone ever used these long drawstrings to--"

Pudge held out a hand to motion for me to stop talking. "You best be watching your words or you will never leave here Missy."

"Right now that would be a good thing," I whispered beneath my breath.

"By the way," she stood firm and tall again, clearing her throat, " there's leftover breakfast." She reached for the doorknob. " It's still fresh. It's not that bad. I mean, if you're a breakfast person."

"I usually am."

I looked up at her.

For a moment I thought Pudge smiled.

Once she left I went over to the mirror. A pathetic image stared back at me. Two years ago I was a voluptuous girl, with eyes that sparkled like ambers. Now the curves were covered in chubbiness. My eyes were a dull brown surrounded by dark circles. My delicate ivory skin and freckled face now showed the beginnings of wrinkles. My shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair that was so wavy it almost curled, now reached down to my waistband. It always looked stringy. Brushing it took forever and usually ended up making it worse. Most times I just ran some deep leave-in conditioner through it and called it a day. I never owned a hairdryer. Hairdryers were a definite no-no. They only created a frizzy fro. What I did own were a thousand ponytail holders of every color.

To add to all that, on this particular day my eyes were extra droopy and tired looking from the previous sleepless night in 36-degree temperatures. Sleeping in a broken down van in the Walmart parking lot for 3 days in this weather takes a toll on any person. It was mid-October and the temperatures and rain had been relentless that past week.

I fell back on the bed, curled up in a fetal position, and cried.