by Dilloway, PT
“What kind of emotional issues?”
“For starters, like how to express what you’re feeling. You’re so used to being isolated that you don’t know how to say what’s going on inside. Whenever I ask how you’re doing, I only get two-word answers if I’m lucky.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are Max. I know you want to do better, too. And I want to help you do better.” She sighed and her chair creaked as she leaned forward. “I’m sorry too if I made it sound like I’m angry with you. I’m not. I’m more angry at myself for not doing my job.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“There’s something else you should know. In another week I have to deliver a progress report to the state board so they know how you’re doing. They want to make sure the people’s tax dollars are hard at work so the governor can get reelected.”
“Oh.”
“If I get many more complaints from Mrs. Garnett, the board may decide to send you back to Gull Island Psychiatric.”
Max took in Lindsey’s words with no expression, but inside he wanted to scream. When he was first released, all he wanted was to return to Gull Island Psych. Now, with Sarah counting on him, he couldn’t go back there. He still had a lot of work to do to perfect her world. Everything he’d enlisted Lindsey’s aid for had been meant for Sarah, to make her world more realistic. If he went back to Gull Island Psych, how long before her world crumbled, degenerating back into endless nightmares?
“I’ll do better, I swear,” he said.
“Good. I think there are some very important things we need to discuss about your past to help you break down the emotional defenses you’ve constructed.”
“My past?”
“Going blind, your parents, being sent to Washington Juvenile, the death of your roommate at Gull Island Psych. If you really want to reintegrate into society, then you need to deal with all those issues you’ve kept bottled up.”
“I already talked about all that with Dr. Heathcoate and Dr. Lee.”
“I know, but I’m not sure how much of the talking you really did and how much of it was regurgitating what they wanted to hear. I want the two of us to talk about it.”
Now Max understood. She played the game better than the others, but it was the same game. She drove him to Wal-Mart and the model house. She walked through the parking garage with him. She described catalogs to him. Then she tried to make him feel guilty and threatened to deport him to Gull Island Psych. Bit by bit, she broke him down like the others so she could learn his secrets and then tell him he was crazy.
“How did you feel about going blind?” she asked. He started for the door. “Max, if you go out that door there’s no coming back in. I’ll have security take you straight back to Gull Island Psych.”
Any other time, he would have kept walking, but not with Sarah counting on him. He couldn’t abandon her. He turned and sat back down. When he spoke, he bowed his head to aim his words at the carpet. “How did it feel? It felt like a part of me died. Little by little everything kept getting darker. Then one day I was playing the “Tempest” sonata with Dad and I couldn’t see the keys. Not even the whites.”
“Go on.”
Each word that came from his mouth tasted bitterer than the last. He tried to keep his mind on Sarah, to remember for whom he was doing this. “It wasn’t that bad. I knew it was going to happen. I already knew how to read Braille by then. Mom walked me through the house about two hundred times so I could memorize everything.” His voice lowered. “The day it finally happened, it was a relief in a way. All that time I kept hoping maybe my sight would improve, so when everything went dark, there was a moment when I was almost happy. For just a second I thought, ‘Now I can get on with life.’ No more preparing for it. You know what I mean?”
“I understand. You were tired of the uncertainty. Being blind returned some stability to your life.”
“I guess.”
“You said your parents prepared you. How do you think they felt when you lost your sight?”
“I don’t know.” He tried to think back to those first days. Everything had happened so fast then. Dad took him by the shoulders and walked him into the kitchen—he knew it was the kitchen by the smell of Mom’s spaghetti sauce on the stove—to tell Mom. She didn’t react for the longest time, until Max worried she might have died. Then she took his hand and led him to his bedroom. She dressed him in his pajamas, put him to bed, and laid a cold washcloth on his forehead as though his blindness were just a fever that would break in time.
“It’s all right sweetheart, don’t be afraid,” Mom said.
He didn’t know how long he slept. When he woke up, the washcloth had slipped off and left a wet trail along the right side of his face. It must be night, he told himself as he got out of bed to use the bathroom. There weren’t any lights on in his room, so he had to feel his way forward.
He found his way out of the room, tripping once over a book on the floor, and opened the door. He didn’t see any lights on in the hallway. From somewhere down the hall he heard a sound like someone coughing. He spread his arms out to touch the walls of the hallway as he edged closer to the sound. As he did, he began to identify it.
By the time he reached the end of the hall, he could clearly hear his mother’s sobs from the kitchen. Only then did the fogginess of sleep dissipate enough so he could remember. He had gone blind.
Mom tried to get up as he navigated the kitchen, but then she sank down to the floor. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said. Then she laughed—it sounded so hollow his eyes began to water—and said, “Be careful honey, your silly old mom spilled the pasta sauce.”
He didn’t say anything. He knelt down and burrowed into Mom’s arms. Then he leaned up to put his cheek against hers and felt the tears. They remained that way for what felt like hours, but he had no way to measure the time. Dad found them on the floor, his hollow laugh echoing Mom’s. “Looks like someone escaped. Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
They treated him like a baby those first weeks. They took him to the bathroom, brought him food, and read him stories until he fell asleep. “Did you resent them for that?” Lindsey asked.
“No. Never,” he said, but his voice sounded unsure. “Sometimes, maybe.” He thought of Sarah’s dream where she changed from a grown woman into an infant. He felt that way with his parents, as if going blind had somehow caused him to regress to a newborn. In some ways he supposed it was true. “I didn’t want anything to change. I didn’t want them to be different around me.”
“Did that make you angry with them?”
“No, I didn’t hate them.”
“I didn’t ask if you hated them. I asked if you were angry with them. Did you hate them?”
“Once,” he said before he could stop himself.
“When?”
“The night they died. When I killed them.”
“Tell me about the night they died. What happened?”
“I can’t.” She wouldn’t believe him. No one did.
He felt her hands on his shoulders. “It’s all right Max,” she said. “I think we’ve done enough for today.”
He nodded and then left Lindsey’s office. At the nurse’s station, Henrietta asked, “Are you OK, Max?”
“I need to see her.”
“Sure, go in. Teague finished with her a few minutes ago.”
He went inside and took his usual place at her side. This time, he didn’t enter her mind right away. He took her hand in his, noting how coarse and wrinkled the burned flesh felt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to hurt them. I didn’t.” Then he rested his head against her hand and cried.
Chapter 15
The night watchman poked his head in the doorway and asked, “Are you OK, ma’am?”
“I’ll be done in a few minutes,” Sarah said. After the door closed, she looked at the stack of invoices waiting for her approval. She couldn’t finish reviewing and signing everything if sh
e worked all night.
She leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling. In the last two weeks, everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. The transfer of Koo had become a debacle when environmentalists showed up to protest, barring the loading dock until Sarah called the police. She spent the rest of the day talking with police, reporters, and the protestors. Then someone had not ordered enough food for the tropical fish tanks, leading to a shortage until she and Ben drove to Seattle to buy out a Petco’s supply. On top of everything else were the endless administrative tasks of handling customer complaints, managing personnel disputes, and fielding investor concerns.
She opened the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a bottle of bourbon. She poured a glass and smiled at the alcohol’s familiar burn. Since the accident, Mom wouldn’t allow any liquor in the house. It made no difference that Sarah owned the house and her parents were only guests. She put back the bottle and glass before opening the top drawer to open a tube of breath mints. If Mom smelled alcohol on her breath, there would be hell to pay.
Mom would probably call in about another hour to check on her. Dr. Lee had explained to her parents that Sarah could not simply drop into a coma again, but they didn’t seem to understand. Dad had rode with her the first week, ready to take the wheel at any moment should she nod off. She better get home before they called the police to form a search party.
Sarah turned out the lights and started for the exit before changing her mind. Instead, she went to stand by Koo’s new tank to watch the whale swim through the turquoise water. She put a hand to the glass, smiling as Koo’s tail swished past. This is why she had become a marine biologist, to admire the graceful creatures of the water, not to fill out forms. What had ever possessed her to become director of the aquarium?
She couldn’t remember ever wanting a promotion, let alone doing anything to earn one. Here she was, a twenty-eight-year-old with no business training or experience since running a lemonade stand when she was nine. How could anyone have seen her as an ideal candidate for director?
She touched her forehead to the glass and closed her eyes. In her dreams she kept seeing herself as a marionette, but whenever she looked up, she couldn’t see who was pulling the strings. “You’ve been through a lot,” Dr. Lee told her during a check-up two days ago when she expressed her concerns. “It’s going to be an adjustment. Give it time.”
“When?” she directed at no one in particular. “When is my life going to feel like my life?” No one answered her. She opened her eyes and watched Koo drift away to explore the tank.
In the parking lot, she looked around for an old Accord before remembering she owned the shiny Explorer in the spot reserved for the aquarium director. She didn’t like the SUV; it felt too big for her. Every time she drove, she held her breath when she neared a curve, blowing it out only after the Explorer made it without flipping over. SUVs were for soccer moms or people who liked to camp. She should trade it in for something smaller and sportier. A Mustang or Corvette. If she was going to work her ass off eighteen hours a day, she may as well have something nice to get her there and back.
At a blinking red stoplight, she realized she’d driven into Fishtown instead of up to Finley Bluff. She slowed down to inspect the houses, looking for something familiar, but she couldn’t place any of the buildings. This is crazy, she told herself and turned around in the parking lot of a convenience store. As she headed towards Gullcrest Heights, she pinched her arm to make sure this was no dream.
She noticed another car in the driveway when she pulled in. It couldn’t belong to Danny; he’d already gone back to school. A Chevy Cavalier was too small and ordinary to belong to one of the board members. Someone else from the aquarium, then?
Mom met her in the foyer, carrying a tray of Rice Krispies squares. The mother she remembered couldn’t make toast without setting off the smoke detector. “Honey, I’m so glad you’re home. I was getting worried. Have you eaten?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. She had only grabbed a Snickers bar from the vending machine, but if she said anything, Mom would put a turkey in the oven. She did slip one of the Rice Krispies treats from the tray, munching on the sticky confection as Mom dragged her into the living room.
“You have a visitor,” Mom said.
Sarah wanted to ask who, but her mouth was too full. Then she saw a stranger get up from the couch. The chubby woman had shoulder-length red hair and brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses. Sarah tried to remember if she’d ever seen the woman before. She swallowed the rest of her Rice Krispies treat and said, “Hi, I’m so glad to see you.”
The woman broke into a lopsided grin. “Don’t you remember me? It’s Alicia. Alicia Perry.”
“Oh, right, of course—”
“I don’t blame you if you don’t remember after five years. We were roommates in college.” The roommate Sarah remembered at Miami—those few occasions when she slept in her dorm—was a Norwegian exchange student named Ilsa who wore her hair like the girl on the Swiss Miss box.
“Don’t mind Sarah,” Mom interjected, “she’s still getting over a nasty accident. She was in a coma for two weeks.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Alicia said.
“I’m all right now. I just get a little confused sometimes.” Sarah sat down on the couch and longed for a drink. Maybe there was a wine cellar in this house she had yet to discover. “It’s good to see you again. What brings you here?”
“I just started moving into a place down the hill and saw your name in the paper. Your mom says you’re running the whole show at the aquarium now. That’s pretty impressive.”
“I guess so. What about you? What are you up to?”
“I’m nursing over at the hospital. Pediatrics. It’s so exciting and everyone there has been so wonderful.”
“Next time I go for a check-up I’ll have to stop by for a visit.” Sarah looked at the now-empty tray on the coffee table. How many of Mom’s Rice Krispies squares had she eaten while chatting with Alicia? She couldn’t remember. She would find out tomorrow when she stepped on the scale. Before long she could disguise herself as a whale. “Hey, how about we go somewhere and catch up on old times?”
“It’s all right, honey, I was just about to go upstairs and check on your father. You two stay here and talk.”
“Mom—”
“You shouldn’t be driving around to strange places at night. It’s dangerous.”
“All right Mom.” She felt like she was sixteen again and asking to borrow the car. Damn it, she was an adult now with her own house, car, and job, why shouldn’t she be able to go out whenever the hell she wanted? Still, she didn’t want Mom to worry. She couldn’t stand the thought of her parents dying for real instead of just in a coma fantasy.
After Mom went upstairs, Sarah leaned forward to ask, “Are you seeing anyone?”
Alicia’s pudgy cheeks turned red. “No. I had a boyfriend back in Chicago, but it didn’t work out. Remember when we used to go out to the clubs? Every guy in the place would hit on you and I’d wind up in the corner. I was so jealous.”
Sarah tried to picture the scene, hoping to dredge up a memory. She imagined a nightclub where a pale, doughy redhead sat in a dark booth while she danced underneath the bright lights with a host of sweaty Latin men. The image seemed like something lifted from a movie, not a memory of her own life. She looked over at Alicia and made her heavier, then thinner; with shorter hair, then with longer; and with contacts, then with different glasses. No matter what she did, the image never seemed like a real one. Then again, a lot of college was a haze of alcohol, pot, and sex.
“Well you shouldn’t be. At least you had a boyfriend. I can’t remember the last time I had one.”
“You? I don’t believe it.”
“There just isn’t time anymore. And with my parents here—” A lump of guilt choked off the rest of the sentence. She didn’t want to sound so ungrateful after all her parents had done. They’d gone across t
he continent and stayed by her bed for two weeks, then put their lives aside to help with her recovery.
All of this she wanted to say to her former roommate, but the chubby redhead sitting across from her was still a stranger in her mind. Give it time, she told herself. In time she would remember something. Or if she didn’t, what did it matter? Alicia was here, now, and Sarah desperately needed a friend.
“I have an idea,” Sarah said. “How about this weekend I come over and help you settle in? Then maybe we can go out so I can show you around the island. Give you the grand tour.”
“That sounds great. I’ll have to check my schedule to make sure I’m not working. I can probably trade with someone.”
“Let me give you my number at work. That’s where I am most of the time these days.” She found a piece of paper and pen on an end table, but then realized she couldn’t remember her extension at the aquarium. “Here, just give the receptionist my name and she’ll forward the call.”
Alicia slipped the paper into a pocket and stood up. To Sarah’s surprise, Alicia hugged her. “I’ve missed you so much. I have a secret to confess.”
“Really? What?”
“I knew you were here before I moved. I called your mom a year ago and she told me where you’d gone. I checked the job postings every day until something finally opened up.” Alicia pushed up her glasses to wipe tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry I lied. It’s just that it’s so cold and lonely in Chicago and I’ve always had trouble making friends. You were always so good to me. Everyone else just laughed at me or ignored me because of my weight, but you were always there.”
Sarah began to cry too. As she hugged Alicia, they no longer felt like strangers. They were two lonely women desperate for a friend. When they pulled apart, Alicia looked down at the carpet, her face red and nose running. “I should go,” she said.