"I don't know what you're feeling. I won't even pretend."
― Jeffrey Eugenides,  The Virgin Suicides

"I'm back!" 

I flash Joseph the best smile I can muster, aware that I must be looking rather sheepish. The other day, my aunt suggested that I visit Claymore with a positive mindset. So, I decided to take her advice to heart. I'll smother Joseph with my kindness, even though I'm not feeling particularly kind today. Ugh, it's worth a shot. 

When Joseph sees me, he has a look of what seems like utter vexation. He's sitting on his stool again, with his arm spread beside him on the ledge. I must have disturbed his peace (again), because he does not look happy to see me. 

I suppress my trembling legs and breathe deeply. 

"Joseph," I say slowly. "I hope you can consider me a friend. I'm here to learn more about you during these weekly visits." I smile at him again.

Joseph remains still. The corner of his lips twitch. 

I need you to cooperate. If I stop coming here, I would have effectively given up on possibly the toughest case I've ever had  - and I'm not the type of person to give up easily. Plus, I'd already asked Mr. Rumsfeld a huge favor by asking to switch. 

Joseph faces me completely, grinning. We stare at each other for a few seconds. The officer behind me clears his throat, then Joseph suddenly gets off his stool.

I swear mentally. He's probably going to head inside his bathroom again. 

Instead of disappearing like I thought he would, he walks towards me. 

"Ok." Joseph crosses his arms. I can make out his tattoo from the ends of his sleeves. 

I'm caught in the middle of my tracks, not expecting him to agree so easily.  "Wait - really?" I raise my eyebrows in confusion, as Joseph glances at the officer behind me.

"On one condition," he pauses. "I don't want any one else here when we're talking."

My face flushes a violent red. "I-I don't think they'll allow that." I shake my head defensively. 

 Why would he request to be alone with me? Is he uncomfortable with their presence? I don't know how to feel about his request, but I don't have much of a choice I think. Maybe... Mr. Rumsfeld can talk to whoever is in charge here?

"No way that's happening, Bishop. Maines will never allow it." The officer's voice booms throughout the room and I'm caught off-guard. Who is Maines? Is he the doctor-in-charge here?

Suddenly, laughter bubbles out from Joseph.

"I'm joking." The smile doesn't leave his face as he looks at me. "What, I'm not allowed to joke because I've killed? Since when did humor become a privilege?"

I scoff in front of Joseph speechless. Never have I heard someone bring up killing others so nonchalantly. Suddenly, I'm terrified me, and I hate that I've allowed myself to forget even for a while that he's a murderer. The air feels colder.

"That's.. not a good joke," the words coming out quietly. I don't want him to sense how uncomfortable he's made me, so I try to be cool about it. "I'd expect at least better jokes from someone like you," I say as calmly as I can. 

I force myself to smile, yet Joseph's demeanor begins to change. The corners of his lips harden, and his eyes darken. 

"And what kind of person am I exactly, Ms. Peters?" There is no hint of laughter in his voice. He  approaches me slowly with even strides. 

My legs start to tremble. "I meant that -"

Joseph stops, then walks back to his chair. The atmosphere in the room changes again, allowing me a moment to breathe. He speaks. "It was a rhetorical question. I already know the answer."

I didn't mean to offend him. Even though he's hurt people, that doesn't mean he no longer needs help. That's why he's here, isn't he?  I mindlessly stretch my arm towards him, yet it seems a helpless gesture. I stop midway. Joseph Bishop is someone who's unpredictable, and the last thing I would want is to invade his personal space. As if I wasn't already doing so.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." The words slip out from my mouth. 

Joseph licks his lips and turns his head away. It's his usual pose - him sitting on his chair with his arm stretched behind him on the ledge and his head turned away, as if he's waiting for something. He looks almost calm. 

The silence between us stretches, beginning to grow uncomfortable. I'm simply staring at him as the seconds pass. As I gaze at him, I realize something uncanny about him. He almost looks ... normal. 

I grow tense at this realization. Suddenly, I remember that I brought him something - a peace offering, like what my Aunt Joy suggested. 

I break the silence. "I got you something, by the way." I take out a copy of The Painted Bird by Jerzy Kosinki. He turns his head to face me, and raises his eyebrow. 

I think I see him smile. I don't know if he's received a gift before while hospitalized, but I brought it hoping it would entice him to see me as someone friendly. 

Joseph looks at me with hardened eyes, his gaze confused and suspicious. "Is this a joke?"

I gesture for him to accept it. "Of course not!" I shove the book at him, becoming defensive. My gaze darts away. "I noticed you were reading The Gulag last time I came, so I thought you might appreciate this. It's also about the Holocaust."

Slowly, Joseph takes the book. His eyes never look away from mine. 

"If you don't like it, you can give it back anytime," I say rather quickly.

I must have amused him, because he chuckles. His laugh is surprisingly warm and deep. He places the book beside his stack of other books sitting atop his ledge. 

"Thank you". Joseph's face softens, and I feel my face begin to warm. I turn the other way as the blush begins to blossom on my face.  Ugh, why am I such a child. 

I turn back to face him. I'm pleasantly surprised that the exchange didn't happen as terribly as I expected. Yet as quickly as his smile came, as quickly it disappeared.  His lips tightened.

"Although I meant what I said, Ms. Peters. I do have a condition." I open my mouth to speak but he quickly cuts me off. "For every answer I give to any of your questions, I get to ask you something in return."

I scrunch my face in confusion. He wants to ask me questions too? What does he want to learn about me? I turn around to check the officer's reaction, but his face is resting on his palm. Is he seriously ... sleeping?! How much do they pay their staff here?! Sigh. Anyway, Joseph's request sounds like something I could be amenable to. What could possibly go wrong?

I did say I wanted to be friendly. 

Joseph breaks my thoughts. "Why exactly are you here, Ms. Peters?" He's now leaning on the wall, his arms crossed. The atmosphere in the room relaxes. 

"I'm assigned to you for my final project. Basically, I'll be spending time with you every week this semester, learning more about you, hopefully becoming a better student in the process..."

I raise my head to look at Joseph who, for some reason, does not look satisfied with my answer.

"I already know that. I see students like you come here all the time. They talk as if they intend to fix us." What does he mean come here all the time? Have students visited him before? 

"For some reason, I've never had a visitor from Greens, but everyone else has", Joseph looks at me curiously. He uncrosses his arms and places his hands in his pockets. "So I'll ask again Olive, why are you here?"

I'm stunned to hear him call me by my first name. My stomach makes a slight leap. 

I take a deep breath. "I asked to switch patients with my professor, because I wanted to learn more about someone... like you. " The corner of his lips twitch. "To learn about what makes you tick, what makes you do the things you do - to understand."

He takes his hand out of his pocket and runs it through his hair. He sighs. Did I say something wrong?

Joseph shakes his head and walks dangerously close. He towers over me as I look up at him from my chair. 

He replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then you're just like the rest of them."

I stammer for a response. "No, sorry, I didn't mean to offend you-"

Joseph shouts the officer's name and wakes him up. I nearly jump out of my seat. 

"Gram, we're done here. She can leave now."

I feel so stupid, and I'm so completely lost in how quickly our conversation ended. I thought I was making for progress.

I bow my head and quickly leave the room.