Blue Capsules

Written by Hannah Nagorski

Warning: Story contains references to suicide and self-harm

My mornings usually start in the back of the line between Sugar Pills and Alice. Today is Monday, since Father Joseph held prayer yesterday, so I should be getting two white pills and one blue pill. I’ll shove them down my throat before following Nurse Valerie into the cafeteria along with the other girls. It isn’t much of a cafeteria, but I’ve been told that it’s regulation. I typically sit with Sugar Pills and Patty. When Nurse Valerie isn’t paying attention to our side of the room, Patty and Sugar switch trays so Patty can have a second breakfast. The first day I sat with them, I offered Sugar half of my breakfast. The two girls just laughed, and Patty ate my toast.

“E. Bernadette,” a voice calls from the other side of the windowpane. It’s the cheerful voice of a young girl fresh out of college and it has a face to match.

Before tipping the cup back against my bottom lip, I look inside it to see two white pills looking up at me.

“This isn’t right,” I tell the girl behind the glass. She’s been watching me since she handed me the cup. “There should be a blue pill in here, too. Where’s the blue pill?”

She’s nervous. Her hands are steady, but I can see it in her big doe eyes. She only takes those eyes off of me for a second, when she tugs on the shirt sleeve of the nurse next to her. This nurse, Nurse James, has been listening the whole time.

“You don’t get the blue pill today, Birdie.”

“Yes, I do. Father Joseph held prayer yesterday.”

“Father Joseph held prayer two days ago,” Nurse James sighs. “It’s Tuesday.”

“What happened to Monday?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. You ask me this almost every Tuesday morning, so how about you investigate into where your Mondays are going and let me know later.”

Nurse James walks away and the young girl calls out for Alice. She stops picking at her burns just long enough to throw the contents of her cup into her mouth.

“We cannot go to breakfast until you have swallowed your medicine, Elizabeth.”

Nurse Valerie doesn’t care much for nicknames, so she calls me Elizabeth. It’s fine with me, I never understood the nickname Birdie anyway.

“I already did, Val.”

Valerie’s eyes shift from the cup in my hand to my eyes. “You are many things, Elizabeth, but a good liar is not one of them.”

After breakfast, I check to see what’s on the television. It all depends on who gets to the remote control first. If it’s Patty, cartoons will be playing but muted. Her favorites are Johnny Quest and The Flintstones, but she’ll watch The Jetsons if she has to. If it’s Sandy, the news will be on at full volume. The other day, a few guys on the news were talking about Vietnam. They were saying that it’s a privilege for young men to be picked to fight for their country and that upset Sandy. I didn’t understand why until Lisa told me she was a real hippy before she was too depressed to get out of bed. It’s nice to imagine Sandy in San Francisco with flowers in her hair, instead of stuck in here with bandages on her arms.

Lisa, on the other hand, prefers to hide the remote so no one can turn the “damn thing” on at all. She also likes to smoke her cigarettes on the couch so no one will sit next to her. That poor velvet couch has been used as an ash tray so many times, it’s starting to look like Jane. Plain Jane (with the hourglass frame).

When I turn the corner into the silent common room, I expect to see Lisa with a lit cigarette hanging between her lips. I suppose it could be Patty, but that wouldn’t explain the strong ashtray aroma lingering in the hallway.

“Perfect timing, Miss Bernadette.”

I see Nurse Red first. She is standing between the television set and the couch. Next, I see the last two people I thought I would be seeing today. They are standing by the card table on the other side of the room.

“I was just coming to get you,” Nurse Red tells me upon walking out from behind the couch. “You will be going home with your parents today.”

“How many Mondays did I miss?”

My mother and father don’t move from the card table. She has her arms folded and her purse held tightly to her chest while he is tapping a pen onto a stack of papers.

“We think it is time for you to come home, Betty.”

“And where would that be, mother? You made it very clear that I no longer have a home with you two.”

My mother laughs her card club laugh and shakes her head. “You have such an imagination, Betty. Now, go pack up your things so we can leave.”

Nurse Red gently pushes me out of the common room and into the hall. Her eyes look sad but she doesn’t say anything as we walk towards my room.

“Pack your bags and meet us back in the common room,” Red tells me once we’ve reached my door. “Do you want me to tell any of the girls?”

“They can’t really do this, can they? I mean, I haven’t even been here a full month.”

Red’s eyes retain the sadness from before, but now they seem to show a look of surprise. To be honest, my resistance to leave this place has come as a shock to me as well. If my parents had shown up within the first week I was admitted here, I would have left with them in a second. For them to show up now, it feels too early yet too late.

“They’re your parents, Birdie, and until you turn eighteen I’m afraid they can do this. Now, get packed.”

I met Red on my second day in here. She was sent to retrieve me from my room for breakfast after I didn’t show up to the medicine counter. When she asked why I didn’t want to go to breakfast, I told her that I didn’t need to be in here with a bunch of sick girls. I still remember what she told me next. She sat on the end of my bed and said, “You’re a sick girl, too, Birdie.”

“Wait, did they tell you why they want to take me home?”

“Sorry, hon, but I think that’s something you need to hear from them.”

When I open the door to the room that was once mine, I know Lisa is in here before I can see her sitting on my bed. I close the door behind me, but I rush to open the window.

“Jesus Lisa, how can you breathe in here?”

“Your brother was drafted,” she answers.

“What did you say?”

“Your parents want you to go home because your brother was drafted,” Lisa explains. “Your mother is a piece of work, by the way. I couldn’t stand being in the same room as her for more than two minutes. It’s no wonder you ended up in here, really.”

“My brother was drafted,” I say aloud to see how it feels. Just as I suspected, it doesn’t feel great.

“Yep, his birthday was in one of those blue capsules that were chosen. If he were smart, he’d go to Canada.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. I mean, my mother stuck me in here. Now, just because my brother is going to Vietnam, she wants me to come home?”

Lisa presses the lit end of her cigarette to the windowsill behind my bed before throwing it toward the garbage bin by the door. She misses by at least a foot, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Before Red was in the room, your old man asked the same question. It sounded like he thought they were just visiting you today.”

A month ago, when my parents found me in the bathroom covered in my own vomit, they had very different reactions. My dad got down on the floor with me and held my limp body in his arms, while my mother complained that I wasted the aspirin.

“What was my mother’s answer?”

Lisa purses her lips and places her hands on her boney hips. In an octave higher than her own, Lisa says, “Your son is insisting on going into the army instead of getting married and there is nothing I can do about it. Have you any idea what people will say about me when they hear that my own son disobeyed me, and my own daughter would rather off herself than live with me?”

“That still doesn’t make much sense, but I guess I’m not surprised.”

“Did you really try to off yourself?”

“Why are you in my room, Lisa?”

I grab my suitcase from under my bed and set it down in front of my dresser. Just as soon as I start thinking of this room as mine, I have to leave it behind.

“You don’t have to go with them,” she says. Pulling a new cigarette from her pocket, she searches my bedside table for a match.

“They’re in the drawer,” I tell her. “I don’t turn eighteen for another two months, so I do have to go with them.”

It doesn’t take long to pack up my clothing, considering I only brought a few pairs of jeans and a couple sweaters. After throwing my underwear into the suitcase, I lock it up and slide it towards the door.

“How’d you try to do it? Pills? A noose?”

“Jesus Lisa, no wonder you’re in here,” I say and roll my eyes.

“I could leave whenever I felt like it, Betty. I figured I’d try to help you out, seeing as you and I are the only sane ones in here, but forget about it.”

I know for a fact Lisa couldn’t leave this place whenever she felt like it because I’ve seen her try on several different occasions. I wonder if she remembers any of that, though, on account of the electroshock therapy she received afterwards.

“If you think I don’t need to be in here, why shouldn’t I go home with my parents?”

“I didn’t think I would ever say this, Birdie, but staying here would benefit you more than going anywhere with those people.”

I’m about to tell Lisa that she isn’t making any sense when she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a single blue pill.

“You take these on Mondays, right? I overheard you this morning.”

I nod my head and reach for the pill, but Lisa pulls it away. “I’m supposed to take the blue pill on Mondays, but I’m not sure if I ever do.”

“Jesus Birdie, maybe you are crazy. This blue capsule in my hand is the answer to everything,” Lisa says and extends her hand toward me again.

“Everything? You mean…”

“Yes, this is what’s been taking your Mondays. And this is what will keep you here, far away from your parents.”

“How?”

“Red can’t let you leave if you’re gone.”

I quickly snatch the pill from Lisa’s hand when I hear voices at my door.

“Are you almost ready?” Nurse Red calls through the door.

Lisa takes a long drag from her cigarette before stamping it out on my windowsill. She tosses it toward the garbage bin by the door, making it in this time.

“Miss Bernadette?”

I look down at the little blue pill in my hand and contemplate my options. As the doorknob turns, I toss the capsule into my mouth and plaster a smile onto my face.

*Gone: 1960’s slang for under the influence of drugs

---

Hannah Nagorski (she/her) is the author of Blue Capsules. She is an Outdoor Recreation and Education major from Columbus, Ohio. In her free time, she enjoys spending time outside, playing with her dog, and watching reruns of The Office.