I'll never forget the first time I laid eyes upon Larry Button. It was a blistering hot summer's day and we were surrounded by lush green grass and magnificent gardens over flowing with vibrant colours. By lifting ones eyes, you could see blue waters with distant islands in the hazy horizon. But by this time I had become bored with the view, and the newcomer was of much more interest to me and the others close by. The first thing I noticed about Larry Button was his physical size; he stood well over six feet and his faded blue denim shirt stretched tightly over wide shoulders. That same shirt tapered down to a narrow waist and tucked into a pair of equally faded jeans. I admired the scuffed brown leather boots, for I'd always had a weak spot for men in boots, a throw back to my farming days as a child. He wore his hair unfashionably long, but the black hair heavily flecked with grey kind of suited him. I was close enough to see the steely blue of his eyes as he was escorted past my table, and I was forced to return his quick smile when he caught me staring. Even though I had little interest in the opposite sex, I had to admit Larry Button was a fine looking man. All this might have been quite romantic except for the fact we were right smack in the middle of a mental institution.
I suppose the big question is how I become to be in this undesirable place and surrounded by so many supposedly sick and disturbed people. My name is Donna Latimer and I've been told by so called experts I'm clinically depressed. My birth certificate indicates that I'm forty three years old, but somehow I feel thirty years older. It's just that life just hasn't been kind to me. My childhood years were the best of my life; I was brought up on a farm with two brothers and a sister. My parents were the best in the world, kind and loving with a readiness to laugh at anything and everything. I met the love of my life at the age of twenty while at university and I was on top of the world. You've heard the phrase love at first sight, well with Charlie and I; that's exactly how it was. We met in a music shop on a lazy Saturday morning, and the rest is history. After a loving courtship we married and two years later were blessed with our daughter Tina. Life was perfect until the day my Charlie fell through a roof on a building site and landed on the unforgiving concrete below, he never regained consciousness. With him went my dreams and aspirations, for I knew that my life would never be the same.
The following years were hard, but I was surrounded by those who loved me, namely good friends, my parents and my daughter Tina. But all good things come to an end, and my darling parents eventually passed away within months of each other, and when my daughter Tina left home to spread her own wings, what did I have to live for? For the first time in my life I was needed by no one. Loneliness is a terrible thing, my good friends did their best to keep me on an even keel, but what I really needed was someone to love. But my problem was that I wouldn't let anyone to get close to me for the fear of losing them, as I had lost my lovely Charlie.
Who knows what might have happened if it wasn't for the fact my contentious doctor worked in the same building as I, duly noticed my failing health and took me under his wing. Slowly but surely I was being dragged back into the real world, although most reluctantly on my part. It was just that my doctor was far more stubborn than me, and that's saying something. Agreeing to therapy in a mental institution is certainly not my idea of fun, but eventually I was guided by those who supposedly knew better than me.
It took a week or so for the benefits to become obvious, the group and one on one counselling made me take a good look at myself. It's funny how you can bare your soul to strangers, but not necessarily the ones you love. I was asked the hard questions, then what I really wanted in life and then consider how I might achieve them. At first I didn't really know what I wanted, but eventually doors began to open and my imagination of a better life began to flow. Things were progressing quite well, until Larry arrived.
Later on the day Larry first arrived, he was invited to join our group therapy session. All eight of us introduced ourselves before our leader and physiatrist, a humourless bearded and spectacled who we called Dr Stan, asked Larry to tell us little about himself and why he might be in our midst. Larry stretched his large frame back in the chair and told us he was a Boeing 747 pilot, and was suffering post traumatic trauma after crash landing his plane after it caught fire. A number of passengers got injured and he was having nightmares dealing with his failure to land safely. We kept quiet as he recounted his elaborate story, for it was well told and it saddened us all. When he finished, the physiatrist leaned forward and asked Larry if he had ever flown a 747. Larry grinned mischievously and shook his head, did he in fact have a pilots licence he was then asked? Again Larry shook his head and said no. Was there any truth to the story he had just told? Larry laughed loudly and said there wasn't one bit of fact in it. We all sat back in our chairs in wonderment, for apart from Dr Stan, we had all been well duped with his story.
My smile turned into a laugh, and for the first time in many years I laughed uncontrollably. My laughter was infectious, and even Dr Stan grinned which only encouraged the rest of us. By the time we settled down a few minutes later, my cheeks were drenched in tears. When things returned to some kind of normality, Larry was asked to tell his story, but this time with a little more authenticity.
Larry shrugged his shoulders and began his story. He looked across at us as he did so, not looking at the floor as most of us had on our arrival. There was no embarrassment as he told us of his business importing and distributing diamonds. All was well until his business partner pocketed a new shipment of cut diamonds and disappeared into the wilderness with a woman who was married to another man. Larry spoke of the financial burden he was left with, for the missing diamonds had to be paid for, along with the other debt existing businesses carry. But the biggest problem was his reputation, which is everything in his trade. His supply was cut off until the diamonds were paid for, and his customer base dwindled when he couldn't supply. The only option Larry had was to sell his house, which would not come close to repaying his debts.
Larry spoke honestly of his mounting anger, and his desire for sweet revenge. Larry's business partner's pride and joy was an elaborate beach house which was in his family trust. Such was Larry's anger that he was caught by police inside the beach house with a can of gasoline and a box of matches, his intent obvious. He had not taken into account inquisitive neighbours and the monitored burglar alarm which had resulted in his capture. A court judge, taking into account Larry's standing in the community, his previous lack of convictions and his current mental stability, placed him in our midst for an assessment. A far better cry than being in jail for attempted arson which had been a real possibility, he candidly added. Soon after, we started into the usual group therapy which Larry paid attention to but contributed nothing further.
That evening I was contentedly alone eating the last meal of the day with ravenous intent when Larry wandered into the tabled area with a full plate in his hand. After gazing around the room looking for a friendly face, he set out for my table and I wasn't all that unhappy when he pulled the chair opposite me and sat down.
He looked across at me and smiled as he offered his hand in introduction, "Donna isn't it?"
I placed my fork on my plate and accepted his hand.
"Yes, good memory." I replied.
"So Donna, why are you this god forsaken place?" he asked before placing a small piece of potato into his mouth. "You don't have the look of a serial killer or anything."
"I'm not a Boeing 747 pilot either."
Larry chuckled, "Sorry, couldn't help myself this afternoon. All of you sitting back there waiting for my story, I thought I'd make it a little more interesting for you guys."
"Well you had me going, I didn't realise it was a load of bollocks until the end. Just show how gullible I am. Mind you, I haven't laughed like that for awhile, so I'll forgive you. So would have really burnt that beach house down?"
"Absolutely, no doubt in my mind. But thinking about it now I realise how stupid it would have been. The insurance would have paid out on it and I would've been the prime suspect anyway. Plus the fact that I'm not a good enough liar to wheedle my way out of it, I would've ended up in jail for sure."
"Could've have fooled me. After the 747 story I reckon you could lie your way out of anything."
Larry grinned, "Yeah, but this place is full of nutters. I mean some people around here would believe anything."
I laughed at his cheek, "Touche."
One thing about Larry was he was easy to talk to. Right from the start I felt comfortable with him; his conversation and body language putting me at complete ease. I leant that he had an adult son and a daughter but was long since divorced. In turn, I recounted my life story and how I came to be in his presence. He listened without interruption until I finished and then smiled in a caring kind of way. We continued to chat aimlessly until we finished our meals; then agreed to move to an outside table. Our time together was eventually brought to a halt by the rigorously enforced ten pm curfew. As there was a strict rule regarding visiting other guest's rooms, Larry and I said our goodnights. Alone in my bed that night I confess to thinking a little about Larry before drifting off to sleep, but more about comradeship than anything physical I should add.
The next morning we renewed our friendship, and over the next days spent most of our free time together under the watchful eyes of the clinical staff. There was no way they were going to allow us to get up to any hanky panky, not that there was any intention on our part. For Larry and I, it was more about friendship and support for each other at time we were both vulnerable in our own ways. Then five days after Larry's arrival, I arose to find him gone from the clinic, there was message or explanation and the only response I got from staff was that he'd checked himself out early that morning.
When Larry went, he took my hope and courage with him. Again I'd been let down by someone whom I had let close to me. While our relationship had not been physical in any way, for me it had been strong emotionally. My confidence and what little happiness had recently returned disappeared in an instant, and were replaced by disappointment and anger. By the time I left the clinic, I don't think I was in a better frame of mind of when I arrived.
One of my favourite places in the world is the long pier that juts out from Davenport Harbour. In the middle of winter it's still a tranquil place to be so long as the sun is shining. I just love to sit behind an advertising hording that protects my back from the prevailing westerly cool wind. It's the same cool wind that keeps most people away but provides the relative solitude that I crave. I find the large rolling waves mesmerising as they pound the shoreline haunting the numerous boats that venture in and out of the harbour. I'm fascinated by the scavenging birds that quickly identify the commercial fishing boats in their quest of an easy meal. For hours I can sit wrapped in my warm coat armed with a thermos of strong coffee and a homemade sandwich for company and watch what goes on.
I was at my special place on a Wednesday afternoon many months after my escape from the institution, which by this time Larry Button was long since forgotten, or so I thought. There were a few people braving the cold conditions that day, a few hopeful fishermen and a few other pedestrians whom I eagerly ignored. I was deep in my thoughts when a familiar voice reached me from a few feet away.
"Did you ever hear the story about a brave 747 pilot who ditched his plane and ended up in a nut house?"
I turned to find Larry Button standing close by, his hair flying high in the vigorous wind, his eyes still blue and his smile wide. The jeans and the boots were the same, but a worn brown leather jacket was keeping the wind at bay.
I smiled involuntarily, "What are you doing here?"
"Came to find out how you're getting on." he replied depositing himself on the bench seat next to me.
"But how'd you know I'd be here?"
"You told me you liked coming here, don't you remember?"
I shook my head, for I did not remember telling him of my special hideaway.
"So, how are you getting on?" he asked.
"Okay I guess." I replied. "You?"
Larry grinned, "Great, my business partner was arrested, I got my merchandise back and now life is good. I've set up by myself now, suppliers and customers are happy and the dollars are rolling in, but enough of that. So, why haven't you contacted me?"
