Room Service (254 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by The Yellow Dart (View user info) at 2006-11-07 10:01:46 EST
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
He's over at the bookshelf again. There must be something about them that really interests him. To most people they're just a bunch fancy hardcover books that they know damn well they'll never set eyes on again, so they don't care.
Jason tells me that he looks at them because they don't mean anything.
Oh.
Things that don't mean anything must be interesting to him because of their insignificance; he can relate to how they feel. I try and tell him that the books are not at all like him, they have no feelings, but he just sits there shaking his head. His leg won't stop twitching and his eyes can't sit still.
---
Jason doesn't see things the way the world wants him to. That's why he sees me. I'm supposed to be caring and soothing, all the while trying to dig down and solve Jason's "problem". The only problem I see is people thinking he's got one. There is nothing wrong with him. I just conjure up some things I deem to be progress and they fork over money for my time.
I'm not in this for money. I hate the stuff. I mean, I know we all need it to live, but it certainly isn't a priority for me. Jason has become a priority for me. I'm utterly fascinated by his mind and the lack of control he has over it. In a way you could say I want control of it, but that sounds much too vile.
He comes up with stories all the time; all of them fake, of course. His care workers hardly allow him outside let alone on backpacking adventures through the Himalayas; but the stories sound so real and he tells them quite well if you can get him to focus on the telling for long enough to hear it all.
The strangest part of his stories is the detail he goes into. People's names, specific signs and landmarks, his exact encounters and conversations with people he's never even met; it's all very convincing. While he tells me these stories I write down the details; as many as I can. After he leaves for the day I start researching what he's said.
Everything - and I mean everything - that I've managed to find about his stories has checked out with what really exists in the real world. It's uncanny. Small village hostels, the people (if I get enough information about them from him), dates, times, events; everything really exists.
It leaves me dumbfounded how this man of only thirty years old, who has lived a very sheltered life, can possibly know this much about remote places he claims he's traveled to. I almost believe him, but when he leaves to go back to the Institution I know that's where he'll stay for the rest of the week; where he has been staying practically his entire life.
Today Jason told me another story, although this one was quite different than most of his stories. He usually tells me happy traveling stories from his supposed past, but today his focus was a bit off and he seemed more distressed than usual, which didn't stop him from relaying his story to me. It's like he wanted to be rid of it.
It took place "last week". Most of his travelling stories always took place "last month", so I thought nothing of it. He doesn't grasp time very well.
He was staying at a hotel in town with his girlfriend Janis Freid (I'll have to check if she exists) and just about every sentence that sputtered from his lips had something to do with a briefcase.
"I handed the briefcase to Janis", "Janis wouldn't open the briefcase", "The briefcase contained something bad, very bad", etc. He always says "bad, very bad" about the most mundane things like crossing the street by yourself or littering or swearing and the like.
Actually, the story seemed duller than most of his stories because it was quite repetitious and much more unclear than his normal tellings. Regardless, the gist of the story was that he and his girlfriend had a briefcase of some kind in a hotel room where they were arguing over what to do with it in some panicked manner; its contents were never revealed to me as he ignored me every time I asked what was in it.
"Sarita" knocked on the door while they were arguing. When he told me this I became intrigued; he slowed down considerably, stopped shaking and twitching, and just gazed at his feet. I've never seen him look so guilty and remorseful before. I pressed him to go on, but he just kept repeating "bad, very bad" and sometimes a "very very bad".
---
Our time is almost up and he's over at the bookshelf now gently rocking while staring at the books. I want to ask him more about what happened but I know he won't tell me. A knock from my office door snaps him from the books and he turns and walks up to me. Sarah's now opened the door to summon Jason from our meeting as per usual, but Jason isn't ready to go just yet.
He leans in close to me and whispers in my ear: "her death means something, though". With that he turns from me and walks out the door.
---
It's now been a week since I last saw Jason and he's scheduled to arrive at any moment. A firm knock on the door actually surprises me even though I'm expecting someone; Jason usually walks right in. Opening the door, I'm confronted by two full uniform police officers accompanying a man in a suit who introduces him self as Detective John Scott.
He's here to ask me some questions about Jason. They're investigating a murder case that took place in a hotel just outside of town that involved a staff member who worked in house cleaning. They wouldn't tell me her name, but I knew it already: "Sarita".
I'm speechless.
They ask me about possible motives, his past, everything I know about Jason. But what do I really know about him? All this time I've believed he was just a creative man with a fascinating story-teller's brain, and now? Were all the other stories true too?
Immediately after they leave my office I call the Institution for the first time ever. I had always gone through Sarah to set up appointments and arrange patients; I'd never actually called the Institution directly before.
I pester the woman on the other end of the line in desperate attempts to save my reality - save what was supposed to just be facts and fictions.
"I'm sorry, but we have no records of a Jason Maloney or Sarah Greene ever staying or working with us, sir."
User Reviews
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:19:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2