C21 (1/2)
February 22, 1988
I left the apartment early in the morning. Johnson's address was on the westernmost suburb of Los Angeles. It would take him at least 4 hours to travel alone.
Passing by the security room, he noticed that the security guard with two missing front teeth was not there. Normally, he would be working by this time.
The next second, something fell from the sky, grazed the tip of my nose, and landed in front of my feet.
It was the stray that saved me last night.
It fell until its internal organs were all out. It opened its eyes and spat out a mouthful of blood. It was already at its wit's end. After twitching twice, it finally breathed its last.
My legs gave out and I fell to the ground. He subconsciously raised his head and saw that the window facing him on the sixth floor was 608.
This was a warning.
Four hours later, the taxi pulled into a boulevard that ended in a series of classical European buildings that looked like a castle or a private university.
Outside the buildings, there was a three-story high iron fence surrounded by layers of iron chains. There was also a thick concrete wall inside the iron fence.
Napa State Mental Hospital — The sign outside the main building had a few words carved into it.
NAPAStateHospital, the largest psychiatric hospital in the southern United States.
Half an hour later, I saw Johnson's attending physician.
”I never thought that Johnson would have a friend like you who cares about him.” The doctor shook my hand. He was pleasantly surprised at my arrival: ”Johnson is a good person, he has lived here for many years — when I was still an intern, he was already here. Please come with me. ”
The doctor judged him to be between fifty and fifty-five, and he must have been an intern for more than a dozen years. Taking the case, we walked through the main corridor and the clinic building to the inpatient department.
The entrance to the Inpatient Department had a security handle, and it was necessary to hand over all the bags and put on the slippers inside the hospital, even the leather straps.
”Be careful not to touch it. It's electrically charged.” The doctor pointed to the bars on either side of the entrance.
The inpatient area was huge, surrounded by lawns, with fountains and flowers, but no trees.
”In order to prevent the patients from escaping, our outdoor activities cannot be obstructed. It's still lunch time, so the patients will only come out in batches after lunch break.”
The doctor was a talkative person. He might have met a normal person with great difficulty, but once he opened the conversation, he could no longer close it. ”As long as you don't commit suicide or have violent tendencies, you are allowed to go out and take a walk. Those over 80 years old are all accompanied by specialized nurses.”
”Excuse me, why did Johnson enter the hospital?”
”You don't know?” The doctor was a little surprised.
”Uh, actually, I was entrusted by my seniors to come visit him by Napa.”
I can only make up an identity.
”No, I mean, you don't know about Johnson's past right?” The doctor looked at me strangely, but then quickly smiled.
”That's true. It's normal for you to not know about it at such a young age, but most of the older generation know about what happened to Johnson back then. He used to own the tallest buildings in downtown Los Angeles. It was because he was famous that he was so sensational when he tried to commit suicide in 1975. ”Who would have thought that a rich man who went to church every Sunday and gave money to the Democrats would commit suicide?”
”When he first came in, there were almost every day reporters who came in to talk to him. Unfortunately, no one has come to see him for the past ten years.”
”Suicide? ”Why did he …”
I asked, suddenly feeling particularly foolish, perhaps because I had not slept for two days and my mind was no longer working. When Johnson committed suicide, he must have had mental problems. I organized my thoughts and asked:
”...” When did he commit suicide, and what happened? ”
”Johnson committed suicide more than once before he was admitted, but the last time was the most serious. He jumped out of the window of his apartment in the middle of the night, but luckily he fell on the shelter and was found by the residents and called the police. ”
”Then... Is his illness better now? ”
”Sir, until now there have been no truly cured cases of mental illness. This is not gastritis, the mental center of the brain is unlike any other organ of ours that has a self-healing mechanism. ”We can only control Johnson to not worsen, but it's very difficult to cure his.”
Perhaps it was because I was disappointed, but the doctor comforted me,
”But don't worry, Johnson is a good person. He was not aggressive, approachable, and very intelligent — I rarely used the word wisdom to describe my patient. You know, this is a mental hospital, ”
The doctor apologetically smiled at me: ”But Johnson is a special case, as long as you can accept the method of communication, he can communicate with you like a normal person.”
”What …” Communication method? ”
As we talked, we reached the southeast district of the Inpatient Department.
Unlike the other single-bedroom rooms, which were as small as honeycombs, the senior ward in Southeast was relatively spacious. In addition to the bigger beds, there was a desk and a round tea table with a vase of flowers on each room. The patients here can wear their own clothes as long as they don't have any self-mutilation tendencies.
”Johnson was diagnosed with delusions, he always felt that his wife lived with him, but in reality, he has never been married. As long as you keep going along with him and don't argue with him about whether there's anyone around, you can talk to him normally. ”
Wife? When I called the trust company, I was told that Maria and Johnson were husband and wife.
The doctor raised his hand and looked at the time. ”Your visit will take less than half an hour. At twelve o'clock, we'll give him a sedative.”
”Didn't you say he was not aggressive and performed well? Why did he still need a tranquilizer?”
”Oh, well, 12: 00 is our lunch break. Johnson has refused to sleep for so many years, if he does not rely on the tranquilizer, he will stay awake until he dies without closing his eyes. ”
The doctor thought he was making a joke, but I broke out in a cold sweat.
We stopped in front of a ward: ”Ring the bell when you go out. He'll be watching you from the outside. ”
The doctor pointed to a male nurse.
Johnson was sitting at the window with his back to me as I entered the ward.
”Hello.” I gave a tentative good afternoon.
Johnson turned around. He was sitting in a wheelchair, wearing a gray terry-cloth robe. He smiled at me.