Erin Brown
Washington, PA

^{"I cannot do everything, but I can do something. I must not fail to do the something that I can do."
-Helen Keller}

T h e  B l u e  S u i t s

     My dad’s voice interrupted the thoughts that ran through my mind, “Are you ready?” I’ve always wondered how anyone could ever answer that question with any kind of certainty. I don’t think we are ever ready for the unknown. I’ve been “there.” It’s always the same. I go in like a robot, not even stopping to tie a loose shoelace that has been getting in the way of every step toward the doors. The motions of my slow moving, mechanical steps open them, though I had wished they never opened at all.


     My feet took me to the same chair every time: the one right in front of the fish aquarium. Two giant, eight ball eyes stared back at me with protruding, puckered lips. The eyes gave me no answers. The fish don’t know they have it easy, so you can’t blame them for blowing me a kiss. The liquid that keeps them floating is more pure than the stuff that was handed to me. Everyone here acted as if it’s some kind of delicacy on a silver platter.


     I heard that stone-cold, familiar voice. “Riley?” I glanced at my dad. He had a silent way of assuring me it would be okay, though I couldn’t look him in the eyes for very long. I couldn’t bear to see the weight he felt on his shoulders fill up his tired, blue eyes. I looked back toward the man that called my name, looking for any remorse I could find. Without surprise, there was none. “Follow me,” he said. His face was washed out, his hair ruffled, his eyes dark. It had to be the stuff. As I stood to my feet, and we began to walk, I noticed the man said nothing, and I could tell he felt there was no need to. He looked like a mad scientist who used me as his little experiment, as if I were just a lab rat.


     There was no escape now. They sensed I was there, and they didn’t have a care in the world how I felt about it. I studied every white square tile that made up the whitewashed maze which led to the rooms. My feet became heavier with each step, as if they were made of lead, sinking into pools of quicksand.


     The man began to take shorter strides as my weary steps followed. “Wait here,” the man said. The wait is by far the worst. It seems they make the wait longer every time just to see me squirm.


     I closed my eyes and rested my head against the white wall that seemed to stretch on for miles. Maybe my head would just fall right through it, to the other side, where I could take a peek into another world, where smiling was tolerable. I picked up my heavy head for a moment to watch the little girl play with her American Girl doll a few chairs down. She ran her tiny fingers through the doll’s long blonde ringlets. The doll was to resemble her. She must have been only three or four, and she was here. How could this have happened to her? She didn’t deserve any of it, none of us did. A few strands of thinning, miniature curls were all that remained where her light long hair used to tendril. I could see that the color in her cheeks was fading, but I could still feel her spirit of youth in the room. She was real, she was life, and she had more time ahead of her than I did. This couldn’t be fair.


     I heard voices conniving from somewhere close. The man who walked me came out of a heavy steel door that looked like it led to a meat locker. He closed it behind him and locked it loudly. I began to panic. “Okay Riley,” he mumbled. I assumed that was my cue, so I stood as every weak muscle in my legs turned to jelly. My heart pulsed in my throat, through every vein, and my stomach knew what would soon fill it. The little girl waved goodbye to me, just as the fish did with their loving lips.


     “This will take care of anything that’s a problem,” the large woman wearing a garbage bag-like dress said to me. She was breathing heavily, and was dreadfully clumsy, but her smile was familiar. It was the smile my mother used to wear when she gave me grape flavored Dimetapp; how I hated that taste. I would find the best hiding spot, preferably a place where my mother couldn’t maneuver herself to get underneath of, and sit there with my lips sealed tight, never letting a single drop of the purple liquid that flooded the spoon ever reach the tip of my tongue. Somehow my mother was always right though, it did make me feel better, but the taste, it never changed.


     Without a doubt, this was different. They made each visit unlike the last. It’s always better if you know what you are walking into, but with them, there was no way of ever knowing. I kept exhaling deeply, hoping the smell of the sick didn’t get trapped inside of me. It makes the air heavy to walk through, weighs heavy on the corners of your mouth, and most of all, is heavy on your heart, until you have nothing left to give them.


     The woman left me alone in the room for what seemed like an eternity, but I had to focus; I couldn’t let my fear show. The doorknob began to turn slowly to the left. They were just outside the stilted door, apparently closer than what I had thought. I had hoped they felt unwelcome. By my gestures, I couldn’t imagine they felt anything else, but then again, I don’t think they ever felt anything. The blue plastic that coated their feet crinkled with every step throughout the empty space around me. My eyes grew wide and still, focusing on the door, like a prisoner plotting a secret escape. I was afraid of what they might do with me this time, and somehow I knew this year would break me.


     Like foreigners, they were now in my territory. Dressed in their usual attire, soaked to the skin in blue from head to toe, it was hard to believe that veins pulsed under the blue that wrapped their cold, lifeless hands. The three men were right in front of me now, talking amongst themselves, not even giving me a glimpse of acknowledgement. The light flickered on, and the men began to move faster. The sound of the automatic door lock struck through my body like an unexpected crack of thunder. The sign outside my door read, “CAUTION: RADIOACTIVE MATERIAL INSIDE.”


     The blue suits worked with no passion or empathy. While they were clanking and unscrewing metal pieces, I stood frozen to the ground. The shortest blue suit eventually placed a solo container inside a tiny opening in the wall. I had seen a lot of bizarre things in this place, but this by far seemed the most inhumane.


     The skinny one finally spoke, “We aren’t ready for you yet, Riley.” He looked at me as if I knew where to go, but I just stood there staring. “You can take a seat outside the door,” he said. This had never happened before, and I was afraid that if I went outside, I would never have enough courage to go back.


     I did as they ordered. They must have taken the little girl with them, like they already didn’t give her enough. I knew she was gone before I even glanced down the hallway. I was alone. All I had left was myself. It was then that I realized this whole battle was about me. This happened to me and the little girl for a reason. It wasn’t until then I realized we were both strong enough to make it out of this place alive, never having to lay eyes on the blue suits ever again. The mood of the long, white hallway suddenly faded to gray. I overheard children crying for their mothers from nearby rooms. I wanted to go to them and assure them everything would be fine someday soon, tell them that it was okay to smile.


     Before I knew it, I was back in the room and my legs were back to jelly. I kept trying to assure myself this was only to help me, but how I would feel afterwards raced through my mind. All three blue suits pulled their blue masks down over their faces, watching me closely, and stepped over to the other side of the room. I kept hearing what the short one said over and over again in my head. There is no guarantee with any of this. You just have to live on hope. Hope. My grandmother’s name was Hope. When I thought of her, I knew what I had to do.


     I had to do this for myself, and I had to do this for the little girl whose battle was much worse than mine would ever be. I took a deep breath, and little by little, walked over to the cubby in the wall where the container sat. “Unscrew the container, Riley, then shut the glass back down and don’t do anything else,” the tall one instructed.


     I lifted the glass, and fixed the container with my hands exactly how they wanted it, exposing the radioactive material inside, then I shut the glass back down. The blue suits had to leave now. I completed the instructions by drinking up all the radioactive iodine that filled the hazardous container. My throat began to tighten, just as my lips used to with the Dimetapp, but I kept going. My ears began to ring, and I grew weak. I guess it’s true that your body knows if something isn’t right because this wasn’t right, and if I wanted to do this, I had to do it right, I had to keep the fluid down.


     I stood outside in the snow, with the wind piercing my cheeks and stinging my ears. My stomach was weak, and my mind full. My father pulled the car up next to the curb and came around to help me into the car, even though he knew he couldn’t be exposed to the radiation. My father didn’t care. He just wanted to help me, and he wanted me to know he was there.


     As he pulled away, I watched the doors open for the others who would meet the blue suits that day. I couldn’t help but wonder if others felt the same way. Regardless, I knew they could do it. They would make it to the other side no matter what tore at them; they would make the best of what’s around. You do this for them, and I don’t mean the blue suits. You do it for your father who drives you home, your friends who send you flowers. But most of all, you do it for her, the little girl, the one who is always in my prayers, who longs to play with her pigtails once again.