I thank him, and I think I really mean it. Then I go and speak to his secretary. She’s an older, gray-haired woman with a kind smile.
“Oh, you’re Simon’s friend, aren’t you?” she says as she hands me a packet and a notebook.
I nod.
“I remember you from the Christmas party. How is Simon doing?”
“I haven’t been over to visit for a couple of days, but the last time I saw him he’d just gotten out of traction and was able to use a wheelchair. He thinks he’ll be walking with a cane in another week.”
“Oh good. We miss him around here.”
Candice takes me down to see my room. It’s painted a buttery yellow and faces the south side where the sun washes across the wooden floor in a puddle of gold. “It’s lovely,” I tell her. “I wish I could move in right now.”
“No reason you can’t.” She hands me the key. “It’s all yours, Alice.”
I stare at the brass key in my hand and realize that I’ve just been given the golden key. Only this one is for real.
Candice leaves, and I remain in the room. It seems too good to be true, but I keep telling myself that it is. Even so I am hearing the voices again. They are yelling obscenities, and Amelia is telling me that I’ve been duped again.
“You are stupid and useless and sinful!” she shrieks. “Not to mention completely deluded. You think these people are going to help you? Ha! Don’t you realize that you don’t deserve to be helped, you spineless wimp!”
“God loves me,” I say aloud, practicing my self-talk. “These people are good. They’re going to help my life to get better—”
“It’s all a trick, you ignorant fool,” she shouts. “Your life will never get better. Never!” Then she lowers her voice, “Get away from here while you can, Alice, before they start doping you up again. Don’t be an idiot!”
“No,” I tell her. “You are wrong. I am going to get better. You’re a big fat liar, Amelia.”
Then just to prove to her, or maybe to prove to myself, I pick up the phone in my room—and to my pleased surprise it really works—and I call for a taxi and wait in the foyer until it comes. Then I climb in and actually smirk as the taxi passes through the security gates without the slightest glitch. Now if only I can get back in as easily.
chapter THIRTY-FIVE
My Own Invention
I am barely out of sight of Golden Home when I begin to feel that something is very wrong. My heart begins to pound, and I cannot breathe. Suddenly I’m certain that I’m making a huge mistake. I remember incidents from my stay at Forest Hills—some incidents I had completely blocked out. As various scenes flash through my memory, I am certain that these strange things actually happened, and now I am horrified that the whole nightmare will begin again at Golden Home. Oh, why am I so gullible?
Amelia is in the backseat of the taxi with me, reinforcing all my fears and contributing her own recollections. I know I should pull out the CD player and listen to the recordings on positive thinking, but I am paralyzed.
I want to leap from the taxi, certain that this driver is in on the whole thing, but instead I lean over the seat and tell him to drop me at the hospital. I think my voice sounds calm, but I might be screaming. It’s hard to tell. I know that I’m screaming on the inside.
I must see Simon. For whatever reason—maybe it’s still the safety of his temporary disability—but somehow I believe I can trust him. I may be delusional, but I want to talk to him about my concerns, or rather my unspeakable terrors. I hope he can straighten me out.
Yet even as I walk up to the hospital entrance, Amelia shrieks at me. “What are you doing, you little fool?”
I tell her, “Shut up!” as I walk through the doorway, but she continues harping at me during the entire ride up the elevator.
“You’re such a pitiful sucker, Alice. Don’t you know that Simon is part of their little scheme? You should understand by now that they are all against you. You stupid imbecile! You’ll never learn!”
I try to cover my ears and block out her words, but it’s useless. Several others glance my way in the elevator. I try not to look at them, even though I think the woman in the leopard-print coat is asking me if I’m okay, but I ignore her. I feel that her coat is really a large leopard in the process of devouring her and will come after me next, but I rush from the elevator before it has the chance. With pulse pounding, I hurry to Simon’s room. He’s not there.
I fall across his bed and sob, unsure what to do now. My reserves are empty, and I have nowhere to turn. More and more I have been convincing myself that Amelia is my enemy, but she is so persistent and controlling—and sometimes she really seems to care. Oh, what am I thinking? I know that she hates me, wants to destroy me. And what about the others? They’re even worse. Oh, why won’t they leave me alone? If I could run and run, I might possibly escape them, but when could I stop? My chest feels as if it will burst. I wonder if I’m having a heart attack.
“Alice?”
I stand up to see Simon in a wheelchair, rolling himself into his room, the cast on his leg sticking out like a prow in front of him. I am totally surprised to see him. I honestly thought he was gone for good. Suddenly I feel silly for my theatrics. What is wrong with me? I try to wipe away the tears and regain some sense of decorum, although it seems quite hopeless.
“What’s wrong, Alice?” He wheels closer and reaches for my hand.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I think it’s … it’s just me … and my hallucinations … running away with me.”
He sort of laughs and then gives my hand a warm squeeze. “Have you had your interview with Dr. Golden yet?”
I nod.
“And you’re still planning to move up there?”
I sigh.
He pats the chair next to him. “Alice, I want you to sit down, take a deep breath, and just try to relax.”
I attempt to follow his instructions as I ease myself into the padded chair.
“You need to know it’s no big deal that you’re feeling this sort of apprehension. Really, it’s perfectly normal.”
“Normal?” I glare at him now. “Nothing about me is normal.”
“You know what I mean, Alice.” He sighs and looks down at his leg, then sadly shakes his head. “Who’s really normal anyway?”
I study him more closely and realize that he seems a bit somber. I wonder if something has been going on, and it bothers me that I may have overlooked this before. I am so neurotically self-centered. “How are you feeling, Simon?” I ask.
“I’m feeling like I can understand why certain situations can drive a person, even a relatively normal person, stark raving mad.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean being trapped in this hospital, stuck in these stupid casts, unable to do much of anything for myself. Then you layer on all the noises, being awakened over and over throughout the night. Dr. Golden always says that it’s possible to drive anyone over the edge if you use the right recipe. I think I know what he’s talking about now.”
I am sorry for him, and for some reason this makes me feel better. I realize how I have become completely unaccustomed to feeling empathy for someone else during these past months. “I’m sorry, Simon.” I squeeze his hand. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one with problems.”
He smiles now. “Yeah, I guess that’s just part of the human condition. We tend to think our own troubles are always the worst.”
“I hate to admit it, but I think maybe I do need some sort of medication.” My unexpected confession surprises me.
He nods. “I know. But not like what you were given at Forest Hills.”
“No, I don’t want anything like that. But maybe just enough to calm things down a bit, you know what I mean?” I shudder to think of how close I am to the edge at this moment.
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. So what are you going to do right now, Alice?”
“I’m not sure. I thought I was going back to Faye’s t
o get my stuff. I thought I might even pay for the taxi to bring her back with me to visit you again before I checked myself in.”
“That sounds like a good plan.”
“Yeah, but what if I freak again?” I press my lips together, trying to suppress the anxiety that is clawing just below the surface. Oh sure, the voices are quieter right now, but they could erupt with wild screaming and yelling at any moment.
“Hey, why don’t we call Faye and invite her to come over here? Maybe she could bring your stuff with her. We can all visit a while, maybe have some lunch down in the cafeteria. Then you can go back to the Goldens’ afterward.”
And so it is done. Simon calls his aunt, and within the hour she arrives, and we all visit a bit, have some bland cafeteria food, and behave almost like normal people. She even offers to ride in the taxi with me back up to the Goldens’. At first I almost refuse, but then I think it might be nice to have her there, to sort of hold my hand. I guess I’m not above needing someone to hold my hand from time to time.
Faye thinks my room is absolutely wonderful. She goes around and carefully examines everything, making comments like, “Such soft towels … and sweet-smelling lavender soap … a pretty view … lovely bedspread.” Things I hadn’t even noticed before.
Then someone knocks on my door. I jump at the sound, then look at Faye for direction. She nods to me to go ahead and open it, so I do, and there stands Julie holding a basket filled with goodies.
“Welcome,” she says with a big smile.
She hands me the lovely basket, and I just stare at it in wonder.
“Everyone gets a welcome basket,” she tells me. “I’m the official welcome person today, but the basket was put together by a number of the residents. I already took a peek, and it looks quite nice.”
I nod and set the basket by the window.
“Simon called Dr. Golden a bit ago,” she continues. “He said you thought you might need some meds.”
Suddenly I’m not so sure about this idea anymore. When I mentioned meds to Simon, I felt so unsettled, but I feel a little better now.
“Well, don’t worry about it, Alice.” She hands me a small amber bottle. “No one will force you to take anything here. Just so you know, Dr. Golden had already decided to recommend that you try a low dosage of this new antipsychotic. It has very few side effects and is really quite helpful. Honestly, though, it’s up to you.”
I look at the plastic bottle and sigh. “I’m just not sure.”
“They’re not magic pills, Alice, but they might help you gain some control and suppress those hallucinations. And combined with everything else, they might increase your ability to manage your thoughts better. Dr. Golden believes that the path to healing is found when you take that kind of control over your life. You do understand that, don’t you?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah, I think it’s starting to sink in.”
“Good.” She pats me on the shoulder. “It’s always roughest right at the beginning.”
Faye comes over now and puts an arm around my waist. “You’re in such good hands, dear. I won’t be the least bit worried about you.” She turns to Julie now. “What about her cat, Julie? Can she have little Cheshire here with her?”
“Of course. All we ask is that residents take full responsibility for their pets’ behaviors and needs, but we’ve got a number of cats that do just fine.”
Faye smiles. “Oh good. Cats are such a comfort. I have a cat carrying case. I’ll bring him up here tomorrow—and some kitty litter things.” She looks at me. “Will that be all right, dear?”
“That’d be great.” I look at the bottle of pills again, then back to Julie. I have made up my mind. “Should I take one of these right now?”
“It’s up to you, Alice. Read the instructions first. I think you need to have a little food in your tummy with those.”
“We just ate lunch a little while ago,” says Faye hopefully.
“Okay.” I nod my head firmly. “I am going to do this. I want to get better.” Mostly I’m thinking I don’t want to hear Amelia or the others ragging at me anymore. It has just occurred to me that the voices of people like Faye and Julie and Simon are much preferable to Amelia and her bossy cohorts. I wonder how I have been so deluded, but the fact is, I was. I am. And any form of denial won’t help me get better. I already know this from listening to one of my CDs.
So I take my pill, and both women seem pleased for me. Then Faye announces that she should go, so I hug her good-bye and thank her, once again, for everything. She promises to return tomorrow with Cheshire, and Julie mentions she has a few people interested in knitting classes again.
“I’d like to learn to knit too,” I say.
“And so you shall.” Faye nods. “You can make Cheshire a sweater. I think he would look splendid in blue.”
Now they are both gone, and I am alone in my new room, playing a classical CD and putting my clothes into the drawers and closet. I really don’t have much to put away, but I am taking my time and doing a careful job. Waves of anxiety flood me, that old feeling that I’ve made a huge mistake. Amelia peers out from the bathroom, haunting me with her sharp words of criticism.
Julie explained that it will take a while before the meds begin to kick in—from a few days to a couple of weeks. I’m determined to continue taking them unless I begin to feel like I felt at Forest Hills—dead and zombie-like. Then I will stop immediately. But it is a consolation that I am the one making the choice here. It’s good to have this kind of control. It feels right. Maybe Dr. Golden really knows his stuff after all.
Julie said that I’m not expected to help out on my first day here but that she will have a schedule for me by dinnertime. “We like to keep you busy,” she said with a wink. I think that sounds wise since I really don’t need too much time on my hands. I don’t want to dwell on things.
Finally there is nothing left to do in my room, and I tell myself to go out to the common area and make some sort of an attempt at being “social.” But I must admit the mere idea of this new step frightens me beyond words. I just know I will say or do something totally stupid, and I am so inferior, like I’m a crazy person among a bunch who are already well on the road to recovery. I tell myself this probably isn’t the case, and I remember the guy peeling potatoes in the kitchen, yet I am not convinced. Finally I force myself to leave my room. I lock the door, slip the golden key into my pocket, put one foot in front of the other, and walk toward the big room.
I sit in an armchair next to a window and just look out over the grounds. The view is so peaceful and pretty with grass and trees and a long pond that meanders around the property. I even spy a few large orange-colored fish swimming happily along. I wonder what it would be like to be as carefree as a fish.
It’s not long before a young woman, about my age, comes over and leans against the chair next to me.
“New here?” she asks.
I nod and swallow.
“Scared?”
Somehow I manage to say yes.
“Yeah, so was I at first. But believe me, you’ll get over it.” She sticks out her hand. “I’m Margot.”
“Alice.”
“Nice to meet you.” Then she glances outside and back at me. “You smoke, Alice?” I shake my head no.
“Really? Almost everyone smokes—at least when they first get here—but the Goldens only let us smoke outside.” She acts as though she’s shivering. “And it’s so blasted cold out there.”
“Guess that might make it easier to quit.”
“Nah. I’m not quitting. A few do, but I’ll bet they go straight back to it once they’re out of here and on their own again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know really, but I read somewhere that something like ninety percent of people with schizophrenia are smokers.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Weird, huh? You must be in that lucky ten percentile.”
“I guess.” I’m thinking I should be thankful for sm
all favors.
“Well, I think I’ll go out for a smoke. You wanna come along?”
I decide to join her. Not that I want to take up smoking, but she seems nice—or at least friendly. We walk around the gardens and along the pond, and mostly she talks. She tells me she’s been here for a month and plans to stay for another. She says that despite her “attitude,” it has helped her a lot.
“I’m not, like, totally well,” she tells me as she blows out a puff of smoke. “But I’m way better than I used to be. I feel like I can actually return to my job now.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a chef.” She stands up straighter, as if merely saying this gives her a sense of pride or purpose.
“That’s cool. Have you done a lot of cooking here?”
“Yeah, I’ve been teaching some cooking classes too.” She takes a long drag.
“Maybe I’ll learn to cook while I’m here. I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, and watch out. When Julie finds out whatever you’re good at, she’ll really put you to work too.”
I shake my head. “Well, I’m not really good at much of anything.”
Margot laughs. “Then she’ll probably help you find something totally new that you didn’t even know you were good at. She’s just like that.”
“But you do like Julie, right?” I am a little worried now. Margot’s cynical attitude is hard to read.
“Oh yeah.” Then she snuffs out her cigarette. “But to be honest, I couldn’t stand her at first. She reminded me of my mom, and I thought she was acting superior. But after a while I decided I was totally wrong. I think I’ve been wrong about a lot of things.”
We head back inside, and Margot announces that she needs to go help in the kitchen. I am glad to stand by the fireplace and warm up a bit. I consider what Margot said about being wrong and hope that I’ve been wrong too. Not about this place, but about believing Amelia and the others. The more I think about it, the more I believe that they have been entirely my own invention and not real. Not that this is new to me. I think parts of me have known this all along. But the problem was my inability to distinguish. I still can’t. I guess that just comes with the whole crazy territory. And I suppose it’s true that it is all in your head. But even so, it doesn’t make it any less real.
Finding Alice Page 27