continues to flow into the institution. You should see this place when they schedule one of their fetes for the families of patients. Every inch is spick-and-span, not a weed, not a speck of dust, and not a face without a smile,' he said, smirking.
'You sound very critical of them, Lyle, yet you want to stay. Why don't you think about trying life on the outside again? You're much brighter than most boys I've met,' I said. He blanched but looked away.
'I'm not ready yet,' he replied. 'But I can tell just from the short time I've been with you that you definitely don't belong here.'
'I've got another session scheduled with Dr. Cheryl. He's going to find a way to keep me. I just know it,' I moaned. 'Daphne gives this place too much money for him not to do what she wants.' I embraced myself and looked down as we walked along. Around us and even behind us, the attendants watched.
'You go ask to go to the bathroom,' Lyle suddenly said. 'It's right off the rear entrance. They won't bother you. To the left of the rest room is a short stairway which goes down to the basement. The second door on the right is the laundry room. They've already done their laundry work for today. They do it in the morning. So there won't be anyone there.'
'Are you sure?'
'I told you, I've been here ten years. I know which clocks run slow and which run fast, what door hinges squeak, and where there are windows without bars on them,' he added.
'Thank you Lyle.'
He shrugged.
'I haven't done anything yet,' he said, as if he wanted to convince himself more than me that he hadn't made a decision.
'You've given me hope, Lyle. That's doing a great deal.' I smiled at him. He stared at me a moment, his rust- colored eyes blinking and then he turned away.
'Go on,' he said. 'Do what I told you.'
I went to the female attendant and explained that I had to go to the bathroom.
'I'll show you where it is,' she said when we returned to the door.
'1 know where it is. Thank you,' I replied quickly. She shrugged and left me. I did exactly what Lyle said and scurried down the short flight of steps. The laundry room was a large, long room with cement floors and cement walls lined with washing machines, dryers, and bins. Toward the rear were the windows Lyle had described, but they were high up.
'Quick,' I heard him say as he entered behind me. We hurried to the back. 'You just snap the hinge in the middle and slide the window to your left,' he whispered. 'It's not locked.'
'How do you know that, Lyle?' I asked suspiciously. He looked down and then up at me quickly.
'I've been here a few times. I even went so far as to stick my foot out, but I . . . I'm not ready,' he concluded.
'I hope you will be ready soon, Lyle.'
'I'll give you a boost up. Come on, before we're missed,' he said, cupping his hands together for my foot.
'I wish you would come with me, Lyle,' I said, and put my foot into his hands. He lifted and I clutched at the windowsill to pull myself up. Just as he described, the latch opened easily and I slid the window to the left. I looked down at him.
'Go on,' he coached.
'Thank you, Lyle. I know how hard it was for you to do this.'
'No it wasn't,' he confessed. 'I wanted to help you. Go on.'
I started to crawl through the window, looking around as I did so to be sure no one was nearby. Across the lawn was a small patch of trees and beyond that, the main highway. Once I was out, I turned and looked back in at him.
'Do you know where to go from here?' he asked me.
'No, but I just want to get away.'
'Go south. There's a bus stop there and the bus will take you back to New Orleans. Here,' he said, digging into his pants pocket and coming up with a fistful of money. 'I don't need this in here.'
He handed me the bills.
'Thank you, Lyle.'
'Be careful. Don't look suspicious. Smile at people. Act like you're just on an afternoon outing,' he advised, telling me things I was sure he had recited to himself a hundred times in vain.
'I'll be back to visit you someday, Lyle. I promise. Unless you're out before then. If you are, call me.'
'I haven't used a telephone since I was six years old,' he admitted. Looking down at him in the laundry room, I felt so sorry for him. He seemed small and alone now, trapped by his own insecurities. 'But,' he added, smiling, 'if I do get out, I'll call you.'
'Good.'
'Get going . . . quickly,' he said. 'Remember, look natural.'
He turned and walked away. I stood up, took a deep breath, and started away from the building. When I was no more than a dozen or so feet from it, I looked back and caught sight of someone on the third floor standing in the window. A cloud moved over the sun and the subsequent shade made it possible for me to see beyond the glint of the glass.
