He did know. And it shamed him.
‘Clair, I didn’t come here to fight. I came to see you. How are you?’
She looked so bereft sitting there, on the narrow single bed. Her hair, usually well groomed, was oily, hanging down in shards along her thin jawline. He felt an overwhelming ache in his heart, wanting to enfold her, erase all the pain and terror of the past few months. Frozen in place, he held her eyes in his gaze, willing her to answer.
‘Oh God, Adam, I am so sorry.’ She cried, dropping her head into her hands. I didn’t want you to die, not really, well maybe I did at the time. But I had just wanted a way out. You were my way out.’
‘I’ve never had anyone love me enough to want to kill me before,’ he said, with a crooked smile.
She looked up at him. ‘Love. I can’t speak that word with you. I loved you. Devon loved you. And you squandered it, on your affairs, your minor successes. Devon was the only real thing in your life, in my life. Everything else, counterfeit. That’s what you lost, Adam, on the beach. You lost your one connection to truth.’
‘Clair, you lost it too. Where were you when the wave came and took him? The wave may have been an act of God but we, Clair, you and I, we didn’t pay attention. We weren’t watching. What were you doing?’
Clair stared at him. This question had been haunting her for the past months. It had driven her crazy.
‘You were there, on the beach, like me,’ Adam said, looking out the window. ‘You were right there, Clair.’ He turned back to face her. ‘How did you not see the wave?’
‘I was looking the other way. I was so angry at you, I stared after you, walking that walk, talking on the phone to your latest girlfriend, and I was watching you. I wasn’t watching Devon; you were supposed to be watching Devon,’ she hissed the words out. ‘Just that one time, it was for you to be a father. And you couldn’t. Wouldn’t.’
A noise outside the door startled him. He realized they had been loud, and loud voices on the psych unit brought attention. Any disruption in the calm milieu could signal a meltdown, or the need for a safety team intervention. Turning around, he saw a huddle of patients at the door. A tall man, name tag identifying him as Matt RN, was easing his way through them, telling them to go back to their rooms or to the community room.
‘Everything OK in here?’ he asked, looking at Clair.
She nodded. ‘I’m sorry we got so loud. We’ll keep it down. Thanks Matt,’ she said.
‘No problem, but you only have a few minutes left.’ Then, looking at Adam, he said, ‘Visiting hours are over.’
‘What happens now, to you, Clair? The detective, Santiago, came to see me. I’m not pressing charges if you’re wondering about that. And, I wasn’t talking to a girlfriend. It was Claudia, about the upcoming performance. It was work, it was always work, Clair.’
Adam had walked out into the hall. He looked back at her, face pale and gaunt. She shrugged, looking out the window.
‘I was told there will be a hearing. The criminal justice system for the mentally ill runs like a machine. They have five business days to make a decision as to whether or not to take me to a commitment hearing. An examiner met with me, interviewed me, and decided I might be crazy. At least, crazy enough to not be held responsible for what I did, you know, to you. So, I’ll have a competency hearing to see if I’m sane enough to stand trial. Today is day four.’
‘But I’m not pressing any charges, Clair. I don’t blame you for what you did. Why can’t they just let it go?’ Adam said, waving his hands in the air.
Clair swung her legs off the bed, stood, and walked over to the windows. She turned her head back to look at Adam. He was standing in the doorway, one foot inside the room, the other in the hallway.
‘You don’t have to press charges, Adam. The DA can do that himself. If I’m not sane, I’ll be sent to the state hospital forensic unit to get treated, until I am deemed sane enough to participate in my own defense, as though I have any defense. And you know what, I don’t care. I died that day back on the beach.’
* * *
Once back outside, Adam breathed in the fresh air, scented from the tall Douglas fir trees circling the hospital. He felt a jolt of memory, bringing him back to his first time, stepping out of the plane onto Pacific Northwest tarmac. The air, so dense with moisture, the smell of ocean and forest blending together in a way that was captivating. He had come here to interview for a job as director of theater at the small, liberal arts college, tucked away on the coast. Leaving behind his hopes of being a real actor himself, settling on teaching and coaching students, feeding their dreams instead. A regular paycheck and benefits won out over dreams of stardom, he remembered thinking. He beeped the car door, falling into the soft leather seats. Leaning back, resting his head, he closed his eyes. He felt the sting of salt as tears burned, his vision blurring as he remembered Clair the first time they met. And then, when he had found out about the pregnancy, regretting his first reaction.
She had walked into his office on the third floor of the Tioga building, overlooking a small lake. It had been spring, new buds bursting through winter foliage on the rhododendrons. He had been coaching a student, young, female, through an emotional scene. His door had been open, as he always left it when alone with a student. Hearing a knock, he had looked up, startled to see her standing there.
Since their night together, after the party, they hadn’t seen much of each other. He had tried, but she had always found reasons why she couldn’t meet him for dinner, or a concert. After a few weeks, he had stopped trying. He had enjoyed their time together, brief and passionate as it was. Her keen intelligence and dry humor were so different from his other female friends and lovers. His initial surprise quickly receded and pleasure took its place. But not for long.
‘Hi, I’m sorry to interrupt Adam, but I need to talk with you.’
‘OK, Ashley, we can finish up this evening, during rehearsal. Nice work today,’ he said to the student.
‘Come in, Clair. I think this is the first time you’ve been up here, isn’t it?’ he asked, motioning for her to come to a setting of chairs around a small, rectangular table in the corner of the room. A large desk, make of Port Orford white cedar held a place of prominence in the other corner. The rest of the room was open space. Except for the walls, which were covered with photographs, posters, and diplomas. Bachelor of Arts, Florida State University. Master of Arts in Theater, Columbia University. PhD Philosophy, Columbia University.
‘I’m pregnant,’ she had blurted out, continuing to stand in the doorway. She had held her hands over her lower abdomen.
He had stopped in his movement to sit down on one of the chairs. Standing back up, he had walked over to her, gently guiding her inside and shutting the door leading to the hallway.
‘Come in, Clair. Please,’ he had said. ‘Sit down.’
She had walked over to the chairs, sitting on the edge of one. Adam had sat across from her. He had leaned over, taking her hands, icy, the bones small, fragile. He had held them, massaging the tender flesh between her thumb and index finger. She had drawn away, folding her arms around herself.
He had sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.
‘Are you saying that it is mine?’ he had asked, his head tilted to one side.
‘Yes, it is your baby, of course it is. And I’m going to have it. We can have this baby together. We can be a family.’
‘I barely know you. You don’t know me. I tried but you didn’t want anything to do with me after our night together. That is not a family,’ he had said.
‘We’ll learn. I know you felt what I felt. It’s just our ages, and our roles here on campus. We are more discreet than others might be. But now, we can be open, share our story. Make a family.’
‘I don’t want it,’ he had said simply, his hands folded in his lap.
‘You can get an abortion, can’t you? Isn’t that the most logical thing to do? I’m old, Clair, and you’re old too – to have a baby. It will change everything.’
‘I’m healthy, and not too old. I saw a doctor. Everything is fine. I’ll be fine and so will this baby. I won’t abort. I’m having this baby, Adam, even if I have to do it without you.’
‘Well, you’ll have to do it that way then. I’m just not interested in being a father. Never have been. If you bring a paternity suit, I’ll help with child support, but really, Clair, you won’t need it. You make enough money and if this is your choice, then you should pay for it. I’m not trying to be rude here, just realistic. I shouldn’t have to pay for what was a single night of pleasure. You’re responsible too.’
Clair had stood, pulling her coat tightly around her slender frame. He had tried not to but couldn’t stop his eyes moving to her belly, looking for the telltale bump.
‘All right, if that is how you want it to be,’ she had said. ‘I won’t ask you for any support, you’re right. I won’t need it and I really don’t want you to feel obligated. If you want to have any sort of relationship with your child, it needs to come from your heart – not any legal relationship.’
He had stood, uncertain what to do. His hands had pushed deeply into his pockets, fingers curling around loose coins, keys, and bits of torn paper.
‘I’m pretty sure you’ll regret this,’ she had said to him, turning to look back as she walked towards his door.
* * *
Over the next few months, as her belly grew and people began talking, it was generally accepted that he was the father. He would interrupt gossip sessions in the faculty lounge, and catch curious glances from faculty and students. He had gone to her office one afternoon, as the summer sun cast shadows along the cobbled sidewalk outside her window. Students, eager for summer break, had been scampering over the quad, a square field of grass and sculptures.
‘I made a mistake,’ he had said, standing in the doorway. ‘I do want to be a part of this. Can you forgive me my stupidity? I don’t know what I was thinking – well, I wasn’t thinking, I was reacting. Seeing you, here, with my child growing inside, I want to be with you and him, or her. Do we know?’
‘No, I don’t know. And, Adam, there is no “we”,’ she had countered. ‘You can’t just walk in and suddenly become a father. Things take time. I need time to think about this. About what it will mean. I think you’re just doing this because you’re embarrassed. Peer pressure has gotten to you. Your image of the great man on campus has been distorted.’
‘You’re somewhat right,’ he had said, a sheepish look on his face. ‘I know people are talking and that they remember that night, how we were together. And even though we never really dated – do people our age do that? – well, this is a rumor mill. Everyone knows everyone else’s stuff and loves to deconstruct every action into finite bits and pieces of intention and consequence. But, Clair, it’s really just me seeing you. You’re beautiful. You carry yourself like some queen. I’ve never seen you shine so brightly. Your beauty and strength amaze me. I just want to be a part of your life and our life together.’
He had walked over and lain a hand on her belly. She had let him. It had felt like that first morning after.
‘What exactly are you asking, Adam?’
He had dropped down to one knee, rested one hand on her belly, the other on his heart. She had laughed out loud.
‘Dr Clair Mercer, esteemed math professor, cellist, and mother-to-be, will you marry me, your ever humble and devoted Adam?’
If only, oh God, he anguished, rubbing his eyes with his hands, if only she had said no. But she hadn’t and they had found happiness, even after Devon’s shattering diagnosis. I must get her back, he cried, lowering his head to the steering wheel. I will get her back, he promised himself, sitting up, starting the car, and driving towards home.
Chapter 7
Clair
The mental competency hearing was held in the community room, the only room on the unit large enough to contain all of the people and equipment needed to determine if Clair Mercer was mentally ill, and if she would be able to participate in her own defense. A charge of attempted murder had been brought by the Harbor County district attorney, a bitter man who resented having to come up to the hospital to hold the hearing.
In addition to the DA, there was the judge, his polar opposite, a woman who had a daughter with mental illness and showed generous mercy and compassion, within the legal limits, to persons with psychiatric disorders. Clair’s attorney, fresh out of law school and seemingly terrified of the ‘mentals’ as he called them, had spoken to her briefly. He thought it would be in her best interests to be found not guilty by reason of insanity.
Odors filled the small space, redolent of human body odor, bleaching products, food smells, anxiety and fear. A court reporter, the mental health investigator, numerous witnesses, and staff on the unit sat in plastic folding chairs, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Clair had been allowed to put on street clothes gathered for her from the patient clothes bin. She had showered, washed and combed her hair. She had even applied a little make-up, thanks to Jamie, one of the nursing assistants who kept a stash for her favorite patients.
The proceedings were identical to any courtroom, with the swearing-in of witnesses, wrangling over esoteric legal nuances, chair legs scraping across a linoleum floor as witnesses came and went. Throughout it all, Clair stared out the window, disengaged, and disinterested in the outcome. She realized sitting there that she no longer wanted Adam dead. She had lost her desire for revenge, and now wanted only her own peace. It mattered not where she was physically. Her peace would come to her once she could die and be with Devon. She knew she would find a way. Jail might be easier than a locked psych unit, she considered. Less intense monitoring. Maybe someone would kill her, if she pissed them off enough.
As these thoughts rumbled through her mind, other images began seeping through. She would glance over at Adam. He had been discharged a few days earlier, and was back to his well-groomed, well-dressed self. And seemed to be enjoying his new role as sorrowful but merciful victim.
A few of their friends from the college were there. More his than hers, Clair considered, watching Claudia be sworn in. Clair had always felt like Claudia wanted Adam for herself. So many women did.
‘And what was their marriage like, as you remember it?’ the district attorney asked Claudia.
‘Well, after the initial celebrations, walking across campus holding hands, sitting together at faculty meetings, eating together in the faculty lounge, all under our noses, as though trying to convince themselves they were happy, I did notice that Adam looked unhappy. I felt like he missed his old life.’
‘Why did you feel like that? Can you give a specific example?’ he prompted.
‘It was after one of his play rehearsals, that had gone especially well. The two young students had fallen in love in front of our eyes during the rehearsal, and we were all in love with each other. It was a high moment, a high feeling. We wanted to go out and celebrate. At first Adam was right there with us, gathering up his satchel, his leather jacket, moving about with speed and grace, like the old Adam. Then his phone rang. You could see him deflate. It was Clair, we could hear him talking to her. Telling her that yes, he was wrapping up and would be home soon. But he didn’t go home. He came with us. And I do think that is when things changed.’
That night was fresh in Clair’s memory as well. Yes, that was the beginning of the change, for her. She had waited for Adam. When he had finally made it home, he had smelt of beer, smoke, and testosterone. She had been eight months pregnant, big and clumsy. Her feet had felt like boulders, and her face was puffy from lack of sleep and an overload of fluid coursing through her veins. She had been told she was at risk from pre-eclampsia and had to be on strict bedrest. They had fought. Sh
e remembered throwing a glass figurine of a sea-lion at him. They hadn’t been sleeping together for the past month. He had said it was to help her rest but she knew he was repulsed by her size and overall slovenliness.
‘And what else do you remember? Was she ever violent?’ the DA asked.
‘Well, after that night we did see more of Adam. In fact, he seemed to live at the theatre, often sleeping in his office. I never saw her be violent but then, I didn’t see her very much at all. She took a leave of absence during the final weeks of her pregnancy and stayed home after that, to be with the boy, since he was ill. I knew she had been teaching online, and Adam said she was beginning to talk about returning to her classes on campus, right before her son died.’
Clair stood, her chair clattering as it was pushed forcefully behind her.
‘You don’t know that! No one knows. He is not dead, Claudia. You have no right to say that. We don’t know where he is, but we don’t know he is dead,’ Clair cried.
The security guards rushed over to restrain her, fearful she might lunge at the witness. Clair held her arms up in a submissive gesture, finding her chair and sitting back down. The judge scolded her, admonishing her to remain quiet, seated, or she would be escorted back to her room.
‘Are you all right, Dr Parker?’ the DA asked Claudia. ‘Do you need a break?’
‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, glancing at Clair. ‘I’m sorry, Clair,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean any harm.’
‘If you will direct your responses to the court,’ the judge said to Claudia, gently.
‘Yes, Your Honor,’ she replied.
Several other witnesses filed through. The fisherman who had watched her walk into the water. The paramedics who had pulled her out. A neighbor who had seen her drive her car out of the driveway that afternoon. She remarked that, ‘Mrs Mercer was very highly strung, running back and forth from the car to the house several times before backing out of the driveway at high speed. I almost went over to check on things. Since the poor boy was lost, that house had a darkness to it, so I didn’t.’
The Wave Page 5