Cracks in the Wall

By J. Morris Lavallee

When Vietnam veteran Peter Davies overstays his welcome with his suspicious behavior at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall in Washington, DC, hes thrown into the back of a police car. After a violent outburst, hes heavily drugged and admitted to the VA Hospital. When he awakes three days later, Davies has no idea where he is or what hes done.

Faced with a choice between jail time for the damage he caused to police vehicles or to remain at the VA for further observation, Davies opts for a longer hospital stay. Psychiatrist Prescott Brown vows to work with Davies to discover the root of his problems. But Davieswhos been sober for twelve yearsfeels like a white trash drunk baring his soul to a guy in fifteen hundred dollar loafers. Davies is sure of one thing: Hes not about to share the secret of what happened years ago.

As Davies recounts his life story to Prescott, the doctors life is changed by the journey as the two men travel through chaos into clarity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Dec 16, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496956972

J. Morris Lavallee

J. Morris Lavallee is a student of human behavior, always searching for the answers to life’s questions. He is a father of three, a divorcee, a husband, a veteran, a machinist, a fabricator, and a musician. He resides in Brunswick, Maine.

Book preview

© 2014, 2015 J. Morris Lavallee. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse   01/22/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-5698-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-5697-2 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter One

T he early morning sun rose over the Washington Monument, bringing to life a city engulfed in its crime, politicians, diplomats and statues to its heroes, leaders and legends. It’s very hard to believe that the average person still plays a part in any of it anymore.

But today will be different. A man standing alone at the Viet Nam Veteran’s Memorial Wall will change that for himself and another man, who doesn’t know he even exists.

Two security guards were making their rounds and had logged the same man standing in the same place for hours. After 9/11, everybody in that city was a suspect. Having been there for most of the night, they would have to look into it. Evans, a security guard with the Parks & Recreation Department for thirty-five years -- having gone to work himself after returning from Viet Nam -- was used to talking to vets at the Wall.

Just another one of us, can’t get that damn war out of his head.

Evans drove up to the stranger in his golf cart to see if there was any need to watch this guy.

Excuse me, are you all right?

The stranger just stood staring at the Wall like Evans wasn’t even there. He was dressed only in a sweatshirt, jeans, field jacket and jump boots, hair to his shoulders and a 4-5 days’ growth on his face. For some reason, Evans didn’t get the feeling this guy was dangerous, and after all the years he’d been doing this, he hoped today he wasn’t wrong. Evans pulled his tazer from its pouch in case anything happened. Again he asked,

Are you okay?

Just then the stranger slowly turned his head towards Evans.

Do you have any idea which one it is?

What?

What is the name? I can’t find it, it’s not here.

Are you a vet?

No. I am dead.

With that, Evans called for backup. The stranger turned his head back to the Wall and continued to mumble. A few minutes later, three more guards arrive to assist. Evans knew the guy needed some help. Whenever they got somebody like this, you never know how it was going to turn out. Evans told the others what was going on, that he tried to talk to the stranger and got no answer, except that he was looking for something and that he was dead.

He didn’t break any law, and if he doesn’t want to go, we can’t force him.

Evans’s sergeant said he would call the Metro to stand by just in case there was a problem. Evans asked the sergeant if that was necessary.

"Look, Evans, I know you’ve got a soft spot for these nuts, but get him off the site and do it now."

Sarge, let me talk to him…

"No, he’s been standing there for hours - that we know of."

…the guy hasn’t done anything to haul him off.

"Look, I don’t need a reason; Homeland Security gives me all the reasons I need."

Sarge?

"Look Evans, we got a group of visiting dignitaries from Israel coming through at ten, and I don’t want anything going wrong, do you understand? Now get it done."

Sarge…

You have your orders!

With that, the sergeant left just as the Metro showed up. Evans briefed the two officers and they took over. Evans figured he’d stay to see how it would turn out. He’d seen his sergeant deal with vets like this before. He didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much he could do. His retirement was coming up. The fact was, the sergeant was a prick that didn’t care about Viet Nam vets that were still having a hard time after all these years.

Well, the Metro boys did their job, just like they always do.

The stranger was taken away handcuffed and headed for the psych ward downtown. Evans sat in his golf cart, hoping the stranger would be all right. As he rode off, he mumbled under his breath, "Fucking war."

As they pulled into the emergency entrance of the VA Hospital, Peter came alive and violent.

"You bastards aren’t going to put me back in there again, I’ll kill you. Oh, no, not again! I’m not going back, not this time!"

He kicked the separation screen and began screaming. The officers pulled to a stop and tried to calm him down. One officer ran inside to get help with him. The officer told the desk attendant he had a hot one and needed some help to put him out before they had to tazer him. The officer ran back out to assist his partner. Peter had managed to break out the side window, and being a big man, six two and weighing two sixty or more, there was blood all over the window and on the side of the car and on Peter. The ER attendant came running out and screamed at the officer holding Peter down against the side of the car,

HOLD HIM UNTIL I CAN HIT HIM WITH A SLEEPER OF HALDOL!

Both officers managed to hold him down.

"God damn, this guy is tough!"

In a few minutes after that the Haldol was kicking in. The officers could ease up while the attendants got him on a stretcher. By now he was limp, drooling and manageable. One officer radioed in to say they had made the transfer then and they would be down for a cleanup. The ER doctor had Peter in full restraints to make sure he stayed calm.

With all the Haldol in him he should be out for days.

They checked his vitals and cleaned up his minor cuts and shipped him upstairs to psych.

Three days later Peter woke up, not being able to move, with a hangover from hell and no idea how he got there.

As he opened his eyes all the fear, rage and anger spilled out in a scream and lunge that would bend the bars on the bed and wake the entire ward. As he exhaled he fell back, and again three more times till he was out of breath. Nurse Webster came running in to see if he was all right she knew he could not break the straps that were holding him. She had seen patrons coming off a long period of sedation come out this way, but this was as primal as she’d heard in a very long time.

Mr. Davies, can you hear me? I’m Nurse Webster, my first name is Carol. Can you hear me? You’re going to be all right, you’re going to be all right. You had a rough time the last two or three days, but you’re safe now. I know the restraints are not comfortable; it was for your safety. We’ll get them off as soon as we can.

Peter opened his eyes slowly and saw her standing over him; he whispered hoarsely: I’m thirsty, I’m thirsty.

Carol Webster gave him a few sips and a few seconds later she gave him some more. He was starting to wake up.

After a few sips of water he could speak, so the nurse could hear him. She was a woman in her forties with blond shoulder length hair with too much eye shadow and perfume from some clearance sale; not hard to look at, but she seemed a little hard edged. Although his thoughts were scrambled and the last thing he thought he remembered was seeing John Jacobs’ name on the Wall, and that couldn’t, it just couldn’t…

Could it be the same guy? God, he hoped not.

He knew he wasn’t going to tell anyone, anyway.

Could you tell me how I got here?

You were brought in three days ago after a run-in with the law.

The law…what are you talking about?

Doctor Brown will let you know when he comes later.

Peter was getting a little agitated but knew he’d better not let the nurse know.

OK, so where am I?

In the VA Hospital, in downtown DC.

Would it be possible to take these straps off?

All right, but remember, they can go back on just as quick.

She was OK with taking off the hand straps, but for now she would keep the legs and feet the way they were.

"Nurse, I need to use the bathroom."

I’ll have the orderly come in and help you with that.

Look, I need to see the doctor as soon as I can.

He’ll be here when he gets here. Besides, you’re not going anywhere, anyhow.

Peter thought to himself, what a bitch, as the door closed and she was gone. His mind was racing almost out of control. Now what could he have done, did anyone know about Jacobs…if the fucking orderly doesn’t get in here quick I’m going to piss myself, Jesus, where’s my van, my clothes, my money, what the hell did I do this time…

He hadn’t had a blackout since he quit drinking twelve years ago…

God damn, I’m going to piss myself…

He started to holler just as the orderly came in, just in time to hear Peter swearing.

Hang on, buddy, we’ll get you hooked up.

He had a urine bottle that he passed to Peter. Seeing his hands were not strapped down, he could relieve himself without any help from the orderly.

God damn, that feels better.

But it would be a lot better if he could get out of this bed and get out of here.

What shit did I get into this time; I thought that shit was all behind me.

He had long since put that time in the mountains of Laos behind him, and Jacobs…no one could ever know. He would take it to his grave. He was starting to get agitated and it seemed like days had gone by, but he knew it was just anxiety. By now he got to move around enough to be able to sit up in bed, even though his legs were still strapped down. The thought entered his mind, could he get the leg straps off and get out of here without anyone knowing? Managing to reach over with his left hand, he found the clasp and started to try to get it off the bar, just as the door opened.

Hi, I’m Dr. Brown, and you must be Houdini. You’re wasting your time. They hook from the bottom, so what you’re trying to do will just frustrate you more.

Ok, my turn. What the fuck am I doing strapped to this bed with a hangover from hell and you making jokes?

Dr. Brown walked over and got a chair and sat down. Prescott Brown was a man in his fifties, about the same age as Peter, with thinning blond hair. He had a slight build with pale blue eyes, and seemed to dress out of a Brook’s Brothers catalogue.

OK, fair enough, I’ll take off the straps.

Peter sat up, trying to get some feeling in his legs.

Where are my clothes and my van keys?

Your clothes are in the closet and your keys are with the Metro police.

With that, Peter took a deep breath and looked at Dr. Brown for a long time before asking, "What happened?"

I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.

Doc, the last thing I remember was stopping at the Wall to get an etching for a friend back home whose brother got killed in the Tet Offensive. The next thing I’m in here.

OK, look, let’s start over. The Metro brought you in three days ago after the Parks people had noticed you standing there talking to yourself.

So, talking to myself is a crime?

No, I don’t know if talking to yourself is a crime, but when you do it for thirty-six hours in the same place and in public, there might be something wrong with you. All they were trying to do was help.

OK, I’m good with that, why do the police have my keys?

They brought you from downtown.

"Could you get me something for this headache, my body feels like it got run over by a truck."

Let me finish telling you how you got here, and then I’ll get you something for your headache. You gave them no trouble until you got into the parking lot of the hospital, and then for some reason, you decided to trash the back of their car. It took three of us and two of them to put you to sleep. That’s where the hangover comes from, and the cuts and bruises come from you trashing the back of the car. They pumped enough Haldol into you to knock out three horses.

Look, doc, I have an idea what might have happened. It could have been too much coffee or too much stress.

Have you been doing any drugs, drinking?

"Don’t you people ever look at your records? I’ve been clean and sober for twelve years. It’s all in your files, the answer is no, I have not been doing any drugs or drinking."

Your files show you had some drug problems while you were in the Navy, and you spent some time with the Marine Corps.

Yeah, they needed somebody to polish the brass there. Big on that, you know.

Well, this is getting us nowhere. I would ask you to stay so we can help you with these blackouts but I can’t keep you here more than seventy-two hours, and you’ve already passed that. I’ll get the nurse to do up the paperwork to hand you over to the Metro.

Metro?

Yes, the Metro police. You did about three thousand dollars worth of damage to their car, as well as tearing their uniforms. If they had their way, they’d have you right now. The only way you’re not going to jail is if you stay here and let us try to help you get to the bottom of what’s going on with you.

If that’s the only option I’ve got, I guess I’ll stay here.

I think you’re doing the right thing. Look, I’ll be back tomorrow and we’ll talk some more. In the meantime, the nurse will have some forms for you to sign.

Yeah, what are they?

Some for the police to say you’re here voluntarily for treatment and the others are to allow us to treat you. Look, if there’s anything you might need, see Nurse Webster. Her bark is worse than her bite. She’s a good nurse and a real pro, she’s seen it all. See you tomorrow.

With that the doctor left.

A few minutes later, Peter tried to stand up and fell over. Nurse Webster walked in just in time to see him picking himself up off the floor.

Are you all right?

Yeah. A few days in bed will do that to ya.

Are you sure you’re all right?

If being locked up in this place is the right thing, yeah, I’m all right.

He sat back on the edge of the bed.

Did Doctor Brown tell you about some paperwork you need to sign?

Yeah.

A few minutes later Nurse Webster came back with the paperwork for him to sign. He scribbled his name on them and passed them back to her.

Then she asked, Would you like to get cleaned up?

Yeah. I need a shower and maybe something to eat. I’m starving.

I’ll have Travis get you hooked up with a shower and something to eat.

Would it be all right if I sat by the window?

"I don’t see why not. Well, there is a small problem. You need help to get there."

I guess my legs aren’t working yet.

Not a problem, that’s what we’re here for.

She helped him to the window and he sat down.

Look, keep working your legs back and forth and the strength will come back. I’ll send in Travis.

With that, she left.

The view from the window was not the best; a few buildings, a huge parking lot and the highway. The sun was just going down, a time of day that had always made him feel alone and being alone was something he knew well. So very well.

Some time later Travis came in with clothes, towels and some bathroom supplies.

Hey, bro, are you ready to get cleaned up?

Yeah.

Look, I’ve got some things I thought you might need, toilet things, you know, and some clean clothes. Those have to be getting pretty ripe by now.

Yeah, ripe is the word.

After you get cleaned up they’re sending in some supper for you. I told the kitchen you were a big guy and hadn’t had anything for days, so they’re going to send two trays. Look, I’ve got to go with you while you get cleaned up. It’s not my rules, it’s Doc Brown’s order. He just wants to keep an eye on you, and I’m it. I’ve been doing this so long that you won’t even know I’m here.

Peter just kind of smiled.

That’s the way to go. Keep doing that and you’ll be out of here in no time. Look, if there’s anything I can do for you that will make your stay with us easier, let me know.

OK.

Hell, you might even get to like me. My wife would disagree with that, but she’s not here, thank God.

Peter just shook his head and smiled.

Come on, bro, let’s get you hooked up.

They left the room and entered the hall. There were people all over the place - nurses, doctors, patients. For some reason he could not look anyone in the eyes, so he put his head down and his new friend led the way. When they got to the shower, Travis turned one on.

Let it run for a while, it will be easier to regulate the heat that way.

Peter took his time, seeing he had not been out of that room in what seemed like years. It was good to just move around a bit. His legs were still sore, but at least he could feel them again.

Though the washroom wasn’t that big, Travis held to his word -- it was like he wasn’t even there. Peter thought maybe he sat on one of the commodes and read the paper or something.

After getting out of the shower and drying off, he was looking in the mirror combing his hair. He was thinking to himself, they can’t know, they just can’t know.

What’s that? Travis asked.

What? Peter asked.

You said something to me.

No, no, just thinking out loud.

Better be careful about that around here, with talking to yourself. When I first got here I did that and they wanted to give me a bed, just kidding. The shower help ya?

Sure, yeah, sure.

He wondered if Travis had heard him.

No big deal. I didn’t say anything that meant anything. Besides, I’m crazy, and crazy people talk to themselves all the time. I think I could use that food now.

Sounds good to me. Let’s go.

The clean clothes felt good, and being clean helped, too.

If I’ve got to be here, God knows how long, I might as well try to make the best of it. Beats jail.

Walking past the nurse’s station, Nurse Webster told Peter she had some meds for him.

What is it?

It’s just something to help you sleep and calm you down.

Yeah, sure.

She handed the meds to Travis.

Make sure he gets these after he eats.

Ten-four, young lady.

Peter was getting to like Travis. He had a good sense of humor and didn’t take himself too seriously.

Back in the room, Peter saw the food and realized how hungry he was. Even hospital food looked good. He sat on the bed and ate everything on both trays. Travis had left.

When Peter was done he went back and sat in the chair, looking out the window.

A few minutes later, Travis returned. Peter asked if there was any way he could get a smoke. Travis got very serious this time.

That could be tough. Look, I’ll try, but don’t get your hopes up. I’ll be back later.

Travis left.

Peter took his meds and continued looking out the window. While he was getting showered they had changed not only the linen, they changed the whole bed. This one was a lot easier to deal with. No straps.

He fell asleep for a while. When Travis came back he said, Look, dog, if I help you get a smoke and you skip on me, it’s my job and my pension, so give me your word.

They shook hands.

I’ve got to take you down to the x-ray department.

X-rays?

No big deal. They’re gonna run you though a whole series of tests.

As they walked down the hall to the elevator Peter noticed how quiet it was.

Where is everyone?

Shift change, Travis replied. That’s how we’ll get you a smoke, they’re all in meetings. Just follow me and don’t ask questions, OK?

OK.

When they got off the elevator in what seemed to be the cellar, they headed down a long corridor to the morgue.

The morgue?

Yeah, the morgue. It’s quiet in there and nobody talks and it’s got the best ventilation in the whole place.

Travis turned the lights on and closed the door

I don’t have any smokes, they took all my things when I got here.

Dog, you must be looking for these, and with that, Travis passed Peter his cigarettes and lighter. When we’re done, I’ll take those back, ’til next time.

He got Peter an ashtray, and with that they both lit one up. Peter was glad there were no bodies out. He wasn’t real good with that sort of thing, never was.

They sat on a stainless steel table and didn’t say anything for a few minutes, when Peter broke the silence: Man, you take a lot of risks. You’ve only known me for a short time. I’m locked up in a nut ward and as far as you know, I could be a serial killer.

"No, you’re not. I’ve been working here for a lot of years. You’ve lost something and you’re looking for it.

Yeah, I’ve lost something all right. Yeah, that’s it, you got it. Travis, has anyone ever told you that you look like Ice T?

Ice T?

You know the guy that plays on that cop show, what is it, criminal intent, SVU?

No, and besides the only one I pay attention to on that show is the girl.

Good call.

Come on, Pilgrim, we better get to the lab and back down to the ward before they think you killed me or something really fucked up. Travis shook his head and laughed.

After Peter got his blood drawn and gave a urine sample, they headed back. Neither one said anything to the other. Travis broke the silence: So, tomorrows the big day.

What the hell are you talking about?

Oh, they didn’t tell you? Doc Brown will try to get into your head. Travis got very serious. Doctor Brown is the best we got. He really cares about what happens to his patients. Work with him. If anyone can help you, he can, with the demons in your head.

Where did you get all this knowledge about demons in my head?

Khe Sanh, 1968.

As they got to the ward they stopped at the nurse’s station to sign Peter in.

Good, you’re back, it’s time for meds.

The nurse looked very familiar. He noticed her name tag, Webster. Then it all came back -- the day he woke up in his room, tied to his bed. He felt like he was going to faint and started to fall back when Travis caught him, as Webster got a chair for him to sit in.

What happened? I was standing there, and now I’m sitting here.

Pilgrim, I think you fainted.

Nurse Webster got him some water and checked his vital signs. Everything was fine.

Peter said, Maybe all the walking after being in a bed so long had something to do with it.

Maybe. Let’s get you your meds and get you to bed. Travis helped him to his room.

Peter sat on the side of the bed.

Sleep well, Pilgrim.

Hey, Travis?

Yeah?

"What is going on with me? That never happened to me before."

Let Doc Brown help, it’ll be OK. Get some sleep.

Travis went back to the nurse’s station to see what was next. Nurse Webster was waiting for him.

Did you take him down to have his smoke in the morgue, like all the others?

OK, nurse, you’re not playing fair.

Hey, Travis, do you think this one knows that you’re Brown’s psych P.A.?

You know Webster, you need to find a hobby, maybe take up knitting or crossword puzzles…and besides, I don’t think he cares. Have a nice night.

With that Travis headed out.

Peter sat there on his bed for a moment, then he decided to go sit in a chair. Looking out the window, he thought to himself, what a fucking view, a parking lot. The meds started to kick in and he fell asleep in the chair.

Webster came in some time later and woke him up, and told him to get into his bed, that he’d get a better night’s sleep that way. He wasn’t in bed too long before he went to sleep.

He woke up the next morning with a headache. He was getting used to them from the meds.

This is no worse than a hangover from drinking for two days.

Just as he sat up, Travis came walking in.

Hey, Pilgrim, how’d you sleep last night?

OK.

I don’t have to follow you around this morning, getting cleaned up and getting around here.

Let me guess, I can go anywhere except off this floor.

You got it. Sounds like you’ve been here before.

Yeah, you might say that.

Doctor Brown will be in this morning to see you. I don’t know exactly what time, but he’ll be in.

When do you think they’ll let me go anywhere I want to go?

Well, I guess that really depends on you, now, doesn’t it? Look, when the Doc clears you to go around the complex, I’ll show you around here. We’ve got a lounge on this floor with a TV, we’ve got some books and magazines in there. If there’s anything you’d like to read, let me know, and I’ll get it from the library.

Yeah, I know.

"Hell Pilgrim, you have been around these places before."

Travis turned and left. Peter got cleaned up, had something to eat and went to sit in the lounge for a while. One TV for ten vets, typical VA. They all want to watch something different, and nobody gives in.

To hell with this, I’ll go back to my room.

He went back to the chair and continued staring out the window at the million dollar view. The morning went by and still the doctor hadn’t shown up, so after lunch it was back to the window, sitting there. When Doc Brown had come in, Peter saw his reflection in the window and made no notice of him being there. The doctor asked if he would like to talk.

Peter looked over his shoulder and said, Do I have a choice?

"Davies, how hard are you going to make this on yourself? OK, if you don’t want to talk you have that right, and I have the right to give you back to the Metro. You have to make up your mind. There are lots of patients in here that need help and won’t fight me every step of the way."

With that the doctor walked out. Peter turned back to the window. A few minutes later Travis came in.

I was outside the door and heard what Doc Brown said. Look, Pilgrim, if you think the doc is calling your bluff you’re wrong. I was across the hall, and overheard what was going on; for Christ’s sakes, Davies, give it a try. It beats jail or would that be the easier, softer way out for you?

"Get the fuck out of here you fucking arrogant spic!"

Have it your way, Travis said, and left.

Peter put his head in his hand, and started to cry.

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Give it a try, said the voice, and the hand squeezed. It was Travis.

Peter looked up and said "I’m sorry for what I said to you. My head is so fucked up, I can’t make sense of anything anymore. I need help and I’m afraid to get it."

"Look Pilgrim, a lot of us have gone through the same shit. Before they gave me the job here, I was a patient, and I fought tooth and nail to hold onto those demons we talked about."

OK, Travis, I’ll talk to the doc.

OK, I’ll go get him.

Again, Travis, I’m sorry for what I said to you.

Hell, don’t let it bother you; my mother-in-law’s been calling me things ten times worse for years. I don’t listen to her, either. And he left the room.

Peter sat looking out the window, still sobbing. Doctor Brown came walking back into the room.

Peter, I think you made the right decision. Now, let’s see if we can get to the bottom of this.

Doc, I really don’t even know how to start. This is a fucking mess.

Just start from the beginning, it’s usually the best place to start.

"What do you mean, like childhood? Is that where you want to start?"

"OK, look. What I like to do sometimes Peter, is just let the patient talk about whatever he wants. There’s