What is Love?

by Saks, Tessa

  ***

  Jonathan stood beside the desk reading while Dr. Sutton leaned back in his chair. He had called Jonathan in to see the letters and discuss Ellen’s progress.

  By the words in the letter and the names on the envelope, it was clear what needed to happen. Jonathan shook his head, a feeling of anguish rose within him as he handed the letters back to Dr. Sutton. He stood, wondering if anything else could be done to help her, any other method. He also asked himself how he let this happen. A big part of him felt guilt and shame that all this happened because he hadn’t done his job—he should have left her a long time ago.

  Jonathan sat in the grey leather chair opposite Dr. Sutton. “How did she send these out?”

  “She used the typewriter in the office, the night nurse granted her access. The stamps we suspect she found in the desk. She tossed the letters into the outgoing mail and they were about to be sent when Bridgette recognized the names Miller and Chasen. When she casually asked Ellen about them, her overreaction brought the entire situation into question. We don’t usually place restrictions on patients’ mailings unless circumstances call for it.”

  “I’m glad you contacted me.”

  “I thought it best for you to read them and decide if you wish to have them sent.”

  “Absolutely not. They’re absurd.” Jonathan slammed the armrest several times with his fist. “Frankly, I find the whole thing embarrassing. What’s even more troubling is that these aren’t the only letters she’s tried to send.”

  Dr. Sutton raised his eyebrows, his eyes widened in a bewildered stare. “Oh?”

  “Her friend Patty gave me the exact same letters. It appears Ellen asked her to mail the letters after she was caught trying to mail them from here. Patty didn’t know what to do—loyalty only goes so far when you are—well, unstable. She wanted to do what would be in Ellen’s best interest. Thankfully, she contacted me instead of mailing the damn things.”

  “Well, I feel limited contact with others would help.”

  “What is really troubling is that she is so dammed adamant about this hit nonsense and thinking that she really is Sam Miller. I’ve never known her to be so … well, so volatile and …”

  “Delusional?”

  “Yes. She may have had her emotional fits, but nothing like this. I swear I don’t know her anymore … I don’t know who that woman in there is.”

  Dr. Sutton nodded. “I’m quite concerned. Her situation is far more serious than I first diagnosed. It was a very good thing you brought her here for observation. She needs severe restrictions, limits set on her access to the outside—at least for an extended period of time. We need to have better control of her.”

  Dr. Sutton sat in silence for several minutes, rubbing his chin and looking toward his bookshelf. “My concern is not only her irrational behavior and explosive anger, but also her various threats to others, which pose a serious risk—there’s no telling what she’s capable of, given all her talk of killings and revenge and her distrust of you and anyone she feels threatened by—all her unsubstantiated suspicions. We need to manage these crises and try different medications, and I feel it’s best to have her here, in the hospital, closely monitored until we can see the impact of any new medication. It may take quite some time. You need to accept this.”

  Jonathan sat back and ran his hands through his silvered hair. “I never expected this. Honest to God, I never imagined I would have to do this to her. I don’t want to do this, lock her up and …” He couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t admit his wife was now insane.

  Dr. Sutton stood and walked over to a tall lateral file cabinet. He pulled the drawer open and searched for a file, read through the pages and set it on his desk. Sitting in the chair next to Jonathan, he said, “It’s for her. You are doing what is best for her. She is a danger to herself and now, quite possibly a danger to others. In truth, there is no alternative.”

  Jonathan sighed. “How did this happen? I don’t understand. She was normal—irritating at times—but normal. I can’t understand how someone can suddenly lose their mind. Shouldn’t there have been some signs before?”

  “The brain is an amazing organ. Its resilience is remarkable … however, it can sustain damage in many unknown ways. We are just beginning to understand the complexities of mental illness. Multiple personality disorder can appear as emotional dysregulation, exhibiting instability in moods, interpersonal relationships, self-image, paranoia and other behaviors like depression and impulsivity.”

  “She certainly has the paranoia, and the impulsiveness.”

  “While any of these on their own are often manageable with medication and psychotherapy, and not requiring hospitalization, we find that when a combination of many of these symptoms is present, and includes suicidal behavior, threats to others or self-harm, hospitalization is always required. Why these occur is the subject of much research, but quite often, when analyzed, we find an underlying repression or trauma that was never addressed.”

  “I can’t believe news of divorce could have been that traumatic. Everyone gets divorced.”

  “That could be a small part of it, combined with chemical imbalances from the overdose and the resultant coma. Her brain may have suffered selective neural damage that is beyond our ability to diagnose. This could conceivably set the stage for serious mental illness. But no one truly knows why, or how it arrives. We only know to recognize it once it is established, and then it is managed through medication and therapy, and understanding.”

  “My God, you think this is permanent?”

  “No. But quite honestly, I don’t know. Given the unusual circumstances of her failed suicide and resultant coma, a chemical gateway could be switching on or blocked completely and switched off. In time, her body may repair itself.”

  “How long? How long until you know?”

  Dr. Sutton shrugged. “Years. Decades. Who knows? I wish I could say, but I have no idea. We will do everything in our power to medicate her and make her comfortable.”

  “And safe.” Jonathan added.

  “Yes, very safe and secure.” Dr. Sutton stood and went to his desk and grabbed a file.

  “I knew something was unusual when she stopped going to church and distanced herself from her children,” Jonathan said, letting out a long breath. “That was the first clue. I should have realized it then. And with all her bizarre behavior—her drinking and cursing, acting like a twenty-year-old and changing her clothes, the house, her body, everything. Even alienating her friends, the compulsive spending, the crazy mood swings, I mean, believing you are someone else—this should have been so obvious to me …”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “That doesn’t make this any easier.”

  Dr. Sutton slid the contract toward Jonathan. He read the entire contract, asking questions where necessary. He bit his lower lip as he picked up the pen and began signing the pages.

  When he finished, he pushed the documents toward Dr. Sutton and sat back in the chair, fully aware of his duplicity. He had signed away any chance Ellen had to free herself. But she needed it—what if the unthinkable happened again? His children would never forgive him. And what if she acted on her violent threats? She certainly was out of her mind and the longer he denied it, the guiltier he was of neglecting to provide what she needed, and right now, she needed protection from herself. She needed to be looked after and supervised by professionals. He was free now. A free man. He should be happy. This was what he wanted, after all, to be free of her.

  He stood to shake Dr. Sutton’s hand and felt a tugging at his heart. It wasn’t easy to give up—it wasn’t in his nature. A part of him truly wanted Ellen better, he just wasn’t sure why.

  ***

  Sam sat staring at Brianna’s face, unsure how to behave, how to be her mom. She had no clue how to act toward a daughter, especially this one, sitting across from her and judging everything she said. As they sat in her private room, she tried her best to think about what t
o talk about but the truth was, she knew nothing about either of them. Why had she never asked Johnny anything about his kids?

  “Have I been a good parent?” Sam asked after a long silence. “The truth.”

  “You don't want the truth.”

  “You're right. I want to believe that I was a great mom, that I put your needs ahead of my own, that I loved you unconditionally, that I did everything I could to protect you … that I supported you …” Sam realized she was referring to her own mom. When she looked up, she saw Brianna was crying. Sam watched Brianna’s blubbering, unable to speak. Finally, she rose to get a tissue and handed it to Brianna. “What did I say? I didn't mean to make you cry.”

  Brianna looked away as she dabbed the corners of her eyes. She looked old. She was probably forty. She didn't know what to say. What do you say to your daughter?

  “Mother, it's just that … these past few months … and now this. I'm so sorry.”

  “Sorry? Sorry for what?”

  “For not loving you enough.”

  “You did, I’m sure you did,” Sam said, hoping to sound convinced.

  “No, Mother, I didn’t. All the things you wanted me to be … you were … I didn’t see it. I challenged you on everything. I wanted, well, I was determined to never be like you, to live the way you did.” Brianna looked away, her voice softened. “I wanted to hurt you.”

  “Why?” Sam couldn’t imagine why anyone with such rich parents would want to blow it.

  Brianna nodded. “I don’t know why. I always felt like you had to control everything. That you couldn’t just let things be. You had to be right on every subject. You made me feel like my opinions were never good enough.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t mean it.” Boy, Sam thought, you should have tried a life with my mom, not much nurturing or mothering happened there. A life filled with neglect, abuse, drugs and constant worry. And her mom expected Sam not only to bail her out financially by marrying rich, but also to help her mom’s boyfriends and other screwed-up family members.

  Brianna continued, “I know, now I do. But then … back then I hated you. I wanted to love you, but I always felt this wall, as if there was a wall around your feelings—some were allowed and others were banned.”

  Sam looked out into the hallway. She did not want to have this conversation. What she needed was to get a message to her own mom. But here, now, this woman was baring her soul to her. Right now, and to the wrong person. Sam sighed. What does she want me to say? What would Ellen say? She sat a moment and tried her best to think of something honest, something helpful at least. “I was a shitty mom, wasn’t I?” Sam finally said, with a wide grin.

  Brianna laughed. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “I would. I was a selfish bitch. I was only ever concerned about myself, right?”

  Brianna looked at her, silently staring, her eyes wide and her mouth dropped. Shock no doubt. She sat in silence for a moment, as if considering the truth in the statement.

  Finally, Sam spoke again. “Right. Yes, I’ll answer that. I cared more about what snobby society people thought than anything else, right?”

  “You certainly have been obsessed with it. But now I see you were only trying to do what you thought would be best for us, for all of us.”

  “Best for you? You think it was best for you?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, I see it all now. You sacrificed your dreams to fit into the life that would protect us and give us opportunities we wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

  Sam looked away, shaking her head. “I don’t remember any dreams. The only dream I ever had was to be rich and have whatever I wanted.” Sam turned toward Brianna, her face drawn into a tight frown.

  “I never understood why you didn’t leave him.”

  “Leave him? Why the hell would I have done that?”

  “He’s been a complete jerk. Look what he did to you all those years. How many nights have you cried? How many years of lies and deceit? And now—look what he’s done now!” Brianna grabbed Sam’s hands. “Mother, I want to help you. I know I have also been hurtful—but I love you. And I want to help you get better.”

  “You could help me—yes …” A glimmer of hope surfaced as she considered Brianna’s offer. “Yes. You know why I’m here—”

  “So you don’t commit suicide again.”

  “Hell no! No!” Sam jumped up pushing Brianna’s hands away. “No, I’m here because of the people who want to kill me. They may have hired someone and this is the best way to protect me. It’s like a secret witness protection program. I’m safe here. No one knows I’m here.”

  “Mother, everyone knows you’re here—the gossip has been …” Brianna stopped.

  Sam fell back onto the bed. No one was supposed to know, Dr. Sutton and Jonathan had assured her. She looked at Brianna. “No one was to know—what else are they saying?”

  “That you’ve had a breakdown—that you’re unstable and …” Brianna paused, “delusional. That this is a desperate attempt to stop Dad from leaving you.” Brianna’s eyes rimmed with tears as she looked at Sam. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No. I need to know. Now who? Just who exactly said so … go on, spill,” Sam demanded.

  Brianna shrugged. “I don’t know … everyone—Dad, your friends, the gossipers. Some trash media, I guess.” Brianna sighed. “I shouldn’t have said—”

  “No. No, you did the right thing. I’m glad you did.” Sam rose and started putting her cosmetics into her make-up bag. “I need to go home and straighten all this out.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Of course I can. I put myself in here.”

  “Mother.” Brianna stood and moved closer to Sam. “Dad had you committed. You can’t leave. I thought you knew—you signed the forms.”

  “What?” Sam backed away. “Of course I can leave. That’s insane—why would I let him do that to me? I would have to be crazy to allow that.”

  Brianna shrugged again and sat down again. “I don’t know why. Dad said you were acting extremely paranoid and this was to protect you.”

  “Well, yes, from the people … from the hit people.” She slammed her hand on the dresser. “Damn him. I should have gone to a hotel—that’s what I wanted in the first place.” Sam flopped onto the bed. “So how do I get out? I guess I need to talk to the doctors?”

  “Mother, you’re in here for a long time. They think you might try to kill yourself again, so you need to be watched and that—I hate to be the one to tell you—”

  “Damn him!” Sam screamed as she jumped up, throwing her open cosmetic bag across the room, the various containers spilling out and scattering across the smooth floor. “He can’t. God damn it! I can’t stay here. Not here. God, no—I’ll die if I have to stay here. I should kill him for doing this …” Sam started banging on the protective window mesh. “I hate this place. He couldn’t—he wouldn’t do this to me.” Sam was crying as her banging got louder.

  “Mother! Calm down or—”

  “Calm down! You tell me I’m locked in this pathetic dungeon and want me to calm down?” Sam picked up a vase of flowers and threw it onto the ground with a smash. The plastic vase bounced, the water spraying in all directions. “Damn her … that bitch. Your twisted mom has destroyed my life—I should strangle that evil bitch—”

  A flurry of attendants rushed into the room; one of them quickly grabbed Sam by the arm. Sam pushed the chair away as they tried to restrain her. “Mrs. Horvath. Are you are upset again?” an attendant asked, as he grappled her arms.

  “She’s fine,” Brianna said. “I dropped the vase. Sorry.” Brianna grabbed Sam’s arm whispering, “Mother, calm … calm. Sit down and relax.” Brianna turned to the attendant. “I shouldn’t have upset her with bad news.”

  Sam knew she should have sat when she heard Brianna cry “Mother,” but the angry blood steaming through her veins blocked any rational behavior. Pressure built in her head. “That bitch, your mom—she�
�s destroyed everything,” Sam cried out. “This was not what was supposed to happen. I’m the one he really loves. I’m the one he should be marrying, not her. I’m his love—he doesn’t love her—it’s me …” Sam sat at the edge of the bed as they held her arms. “It’s me—I’m Sam. I’m the one he truly loves—no one understands what happened—”

  Brianna held her hand. “Mother, I believe you—I do. Relax and—”

  “What are you doing?” Sam screamed as they pushed the needle into her arm. “What is that? Is that poison? Are you trying to kill me?” Sam wrestled to free herself. The strong grip of the attendant held her. “I know what this is—tell them,” she yelled to Brianna. “Tell them! I’m not supposed to be in here.”

  Brianna stood, wiping her wet cheeks with her hands. “I’m so sorry, Mother.”

  “Help me,” Sam whispered. “Don’t let them hurt me … get me out of here …”

  Brianna leaned over and put her arms around Sam. It felt good to be hugged, so good … Sam’s mind started to get fuzzy as the room blurred. She reached to hug Brianna back but her arms wouldn’t cooperate. She felt heavy, so heavy, it was hard to stay sitting up. Sam lay back as the attendants moved away. The room filled with whispers and shadows and trying to lift her head caused the room to pivot up and down. Heaviness pressed upon her. The lights grew dimmer as the voices hushed into a soft hum. Slowly. Quietly. Fading. Fading into darkness.

  ***

  Ellen stood in front of her mirror, putting the last coat of mascara on her lashes. She admired the pretty face reflecting back to her. She may not be me, but she certainly is pretty to look at, she conceded. And Jonathan certainly enjoyed looking. She adjusted her bra strap, pushing her cleavage even higher and smiled. Seeing Jonathan tonight, she wanted to make sure he was still committed, and whatever Sam could do to remind him, she would do.

  The phone rang. “Hi Jonathan, I’m almost ready.”

  “I can’t come get you. I’m at the hospital—my heart, of all things.”