With large dark sunglasses, my face would be hidden. I had no idea if anyone would know me at this place, but keeping a low profile wouldnât hurt.
I pretended to know where I was going. And when it looked as if no one was watching me, I followed signs down a corridorthat led me to a reception area for visitors wanting to see patients held in detention. Picking an inconspicuous place to sit, I flipped through magazines and looked bored while I watched the guard and nurse at a desk located outside a locked door. I sat long enough to look like a permanent fixture. Even my butt had gone numb.
There was enough activity so that my loitering didnât stand out. I kept my head down and sunglasses on, even inside the hospital. Eventually, no one looked at me twice. People came and went, signing a register on the desk. And they showed ID. I got a feel for what was normal and listened to conversations. I even talked to a girl my age that I had followed into the bathroom. She told me what to expect inside after I said this was my first time visiting my old man. I told her it was his birthday and my mother made me come. She bought my story and helped me figure stuff out.
Eventually I got the guts to make a move when the security guard took a break and left the nurse alone at the desk. I signed in using my name because I knew they would ask for ID. I scribbled my name so bad, I knew they wouldnât be able to read it later. And on the register, under the column for patient name, I listed someone I had seen on the log from an earlier visitor. I kept my head down and acted like Iâd done this a hundred times.
The nurse buzzed me through the locked door. Once I got inside, I followed the signs to a large room where visitors met with patients. I didnât see White Bird anywhere. I looked up and down the hallways beyond the visitor area, too. Nothing. Beyond the locked door, I had limited places to go that I wouldnât get noticed. I hadnât counted on that. I thought that once I got past the closed door, I could roam downthe halls looking for White Birdâs room, but that wouldnât happen now.
My trip to the hospital had been a stupid idea.
I didnât know what I was doing. And if I got caught now, thereâd be no explaining it. Iâd get busted and Mom would know exactly what Iâd been up to. Shit! I had almost given up until I saw a patient in blue pajamas and a matching robe being wheeled down the corridor by a nurse. I noticed they were heading toward a glass door that led outside. And I had nothing to lose, so I raced toward the door and opened it for the nurse.
âThanks, honey. You visiting someone?â the black woman in uniform asked. She had a big friendly smile, so I grinned back.
âYeah, they told me my dad was out here. I came to look.â Most days I barely got two words out of my mouth, but for some reason, lying came easy. It was an aptitude I didnât want to think about. And talking about my dadâthe sperm donor Iâd never metâfelt strange, too. He was more of a concept than a real person to me.
âWell, if you donât find him, go back to reception and theyâll help you.â She smiled again and wheeled her patient toward a patio. âTake care now.â
âThanks.â I waved, even though the nurse had turned her back.
Outside the hospital was a fenced-in area that surrounded a garden with walkways and a series of covered patios for patients to sit. It was beautiful and peaceful. And if someone could forget they were locked up in a boot camp for loonies, surrounded by razor wire and security guards, the grounds werenât half-bad.
But I hadnât come for the scenery.
Looking for White Bird, I walked through the gardens, deathly afraid I wouldnât recognize him even if I found him. I hadnât seen him in two years. And two years was a lifetime, considering what I remembered of the last time I saw him at the