by Lissa Pelzer
Janine sat up. ‘Believe me, if I let my energy out, you’ll know all about it.’
‘Do you want me to help you or not?’
‘I didn’t close up,’ she said. ‘I’m trying.’
‘You’re not trying anything, except my nerves. Damn it, Janine, I’m only booked in for two weeks and we’re already one week in, so the ball really is in your court. Only you can help you now.’
Janine knew what he wanted. He had mentioned it in the very first meeting. He wanted to hypnotize her. Bad idea. What if she told him about all those nasty dreams?
Karl’s voice softened. ‘Come on Janine. I’m here to help. If we have some small breakthrough, maybe I can get an extension and really help you. But if we make no progress at all…’
Janine got it. Maybe this was her only chance to ever get out of here. She could either get her memory back or try to convince them that she had.
‘You will always be in control, you know,’ he said hunching forward. He lifted her feet by the ankles back onto the footrest. ‘It’s not like being under someone else’s spell, like in the movies.’
Janine lowered her gaze to show she was thinking about it. Then she lay back and closed her eyes.
‘Okay. So let’s do it,’ she said, getting ready to fake him out.
Karl started to talk, told her to breathe – the stupidest instruction ever. He made her breathe in when he said, and out when he said. It angered her already, being made to breathe on command. Janine could feel the resentment rising up through her body.
She twisted her face and Karl told her to relax. She listened to his voice droning on, talking about walking down to the ocean. That was pleasant. She’d been dreaming of the ocean and now she felt she wanted to go there, to where Karl was describing. Then something strange began to happen. At first, it felt like butterflies were landing on her eyelids, then the pain in her hips and the ache down her neck and back began to ease. A soft pleasure formed as if someone was carrying her down the beach while she slept.
And now, her hair was being brushed, but it was someone else’s hair, long and blonde. She stretched out her hands above her head and saw the sunlight trickling through her fingers. When she looked at her nails they were pink and polished, not the black or purple that Lauren always painted them.
‘Where are you?’ Karl asked.
‘I’m somewhere sunny. I’m on the beach.’
Janine felt herself getting lighter as the world became brighter. This was nothing like Bobby had said it would be. Who was Bobby? For a moment she saw him, the old man. He was leaning towards her. Janine smelled his odor.
‘The men will think you are hypnotized,’ he was saying, ’but you won’t be, not really.’ She looked down and saw one of his large rough hands on her knee. ‘At any time, you’ll be able to pretend you banged yourself, against a coffee table for example, and you’ll say this brought you around.’ He lowered his chin. ‘So if the man does something you don’t like, you just pretend to hurt yourself and then you can wake up!’
Janine tried to move away from his hand, tried to brush it off her leg, but it wouldn’t go. She looked down, the hand was still there but it didn’t belong to Bobby anymore. It was younger. The nails were neat and manicured. The hand moved up to her jeans zipper and started to pull it down. She was talking and could hear her own voice.
‘It’s okay, Janine,’ Karl said. ‘You’re still on that beautiful beach… The sound of the waves, the sand between your toes…’
And she was on the beach again, but this time, it was real. She couldn’t hear Karl’s voice any longer. She was walking along with Cassandra. The girl had bare feet and a pair of sneakers in her hand. She watched as Cassandra wriggled her toes in the soft, powdery sand.
‘Have you ever been to the beach before?’ She asked her and Cassandra laughed.
‘Of course, I have. Haven’t you?’
‘Sure.’ She heard herself say and knew it was a lie.
On a wall running behind the beach, some people were eating takeout food from a box. The smell drifted over in clumps and although it didn’t smell that good, she was so hungry, she couldn’t help but stare.
‘You look like you’re going to murder those people for their lunch,’ Cassandra said quietly. Her eyes caught on hers like a rough nail on a pair of hose. ‘Are you hungry?’
She shrugged. ‘I could eat…’
‘So, let’s go and eat.’
She followed that head of thick red hair off the beach, past the people and their box of noodles, across the street and down another.
‘Typically, I would just go in someplace and dine and dash,’ Cassandra said. ‘But right now, we both look like the couple of bums that we are.’ And she smiled like this wasn’t a bad thing, like being a bum was just a choice you made like deciding to do French instead of German for second period. ‘But hey, looking desperate isn’t always a bad thing. Come on.’
Cassandra stopped outside a breakfast place with metal tables and a bunch of old people in rubber shoes. Cassandra turned around and leaned back against the railing. And she waited there, not doing anything.
‘What are we doing here?’ she asked.
‘See anything you like?’
She looked up over the railing. This place wasn’t that fancy. It looked like the kind of buffet that was laid out at a church event. The old folk were eating coleslaw, corn bread, and stuff like that. But she was so damn hungry that it all looked good. She glanced over to one of the tables and saw a cheese melt and her stomach flipped over and tried to implode. Cassandra laughed at her. Was this a trick? Did she bring her here just to tease her for being hungry?
‘I can’t help it,’ she said. ‘I didn’t get any breakfast this morning.’
‘Or any other day, for that matter!’ Cassandra smirked.
For a moment, she hated that girl. She could remember that feeling as clear as she remembered what it felt like to breathe. She never did get much to eat at home, but as long as no one brought it up, she handled it.
But just then, an old lady had leaned in from one of the tables. ‘Honey,’ she whispered. ‘You want me to get you something to eat?’
She was so grateful, she could have cried.
Walking back to the beach with a hot grilled cheese sandwich stashed inside a wet-through paper napkin, Cassandra told her that once someone does you a favor, they are more likely to do you another. That’s why the old lady had given her ten dollars and told her to go and call her mother. Cassandra had held up the folded bill and rubbed it between her fingers.
‘I get half of that, right?’
‘Sure.’ And Cassandra held up the bill and acted like she would tear it in two.
She had shouted and stopped her and waited while the girl laughed her fill in the middle of the street.
‘You got the sandwich,’ she said, pocketed the bill and turning away.
Then something else happened. The colors behind her lids began to shift.
Cassandra was in a pair of raised wooden clog shoes and tight jeans and she was following her through restaurant tables spread with crisp, white cloths. The wind snapped at her hair and she reached up to push it back as the long, blonde wisps wriggled across her face.
Once she had cleared her hair away, she saw they had stopped at the very last table. Sitting there, was the same old man from her dream.
‘Bobby,’ Cassandra said. ‘I want you to meet someone.’
The man stood up and held out his hand. ‘Well hello, darling. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.’
And she stayed standing for a moment because every inch of her wanted to run away as fast as she could. But they were here to eat dinner, so she didn’t. She just stood there and again Bobby’s hand came towards her. She felt it graze her thigh. She looked down as it reached her jeans zipper, but this time, he was pulling it up.
‘Janine,’ her therapist said. ‘I’m going to start counting back from ten and when I get to one, you will be fully awake. 10�
�’
Now she was seated at the table. She looked down and saw her hands between the knife and fork. She saw again, how pink and pretty her nails were.
‘9…’
She pulled at a strand of blonde hair and ran her thumb and finger down it.
‘8…’
And her clothes, her dress was white with a low neck.
‘7…’
And she had a tan.
‘6….’
The light flickered. Her eyes opened.
‘5…’
She tried to close them again but didn’t feel as if she had the strength.
‘4…’
And now she could see the room where she lay. She felt the sun fade and the warmth with it.
‘3, 2, 1…’
She breathed out deeply. She was awake, but half her mind was still somewhere else.
‘And how do you feel?’ Karl said, leaning forward on his knees. ‘Just take a minute to think, and relax and then we can talk about what you saw.’
‘I saw Cassandra,’ she said straight off. ‘And this isn’t a false memory. I know her. I don’t know how, but I do.’
The therapist batted his eyelids. ‘Janine. You know we already asked Cassandra Stephenson, the actual, real Cassandra Stephenson, if she knew you and she doesn’t. Remembering that information is real, 100% real and provable, does that make you feel differently about what you just said?’
Janine bit down on her lip. Some of the other stuff she had seen in her memories, she certainly wanted those to be false memories.
‘Just wait a few minutes. Soon your conscious mind will know what’s right and what’s not.’
Janine looked away. The memories were still coming down intermittently like a light snowfall on a spring day. She didn’t want to believe any of it, but wasn’t that the point of the hypnosis, to remember?
‘I don’t know. It all seemed very real.’ She gripped the side of the couch. ‘While I was under, someone was touching me.’
‘Touching you?’ Karl asked. ‘In your dream?’
‘It wasn’t a dream…’
‘Who could be touching you? I was right here the whole time.’
Janine stopped talking. She had a feeling, a weird feeling like her panties were on back to front.
‘Oh, this is exhausting,’ Karl slapped the arm of the chair. ‘I’ve never worked with anyone who was so recalcitrant!’
And Janine turned on him. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘You want me to get my memories back, but when I do, they don’t suit you and you say they are wrong! I’m telling you. I know Cassandra Stephenson and I’m going to prove it.’
‘And just how are you going to do that?’
‘Maybe I’ll go and see her when I get to California.’
Now Karl laughed and shook his head. His finger came out, pointing and corrective. ‘Honey, unless you start playing ball, you’re not going anywhere, anytime soon!’
And Janine looked at the finger and saw how the nail on it was smooth and manicured.
She was up. The ballpoint pen was in her hand with her thumb pressed against the dull end. And she held it above her head, not knowing herself where she intended to land it, in his eye or in his throat, perhaps?
Karl reeled backward, his eyes so wide she could see the yellow lining around the sockets.
‘What’s the big idea?’ she shouted, feeling something inside her brain swelling, pushing at her damaged tissue and filling the space that had felt hollow for as long as she could remember. ‘Are you the kind of pervert who likes taking advantage of vulnerable girls, putting them under hypnosis? Is that why you got into this job?’
‘Janine, Janine!’ His hands came up, fingers splayed open. One darting look took in the emergency button located on the wall. But he didn’t go for it. Why didn’t he go for it?
Janine drew her hand back towards her shoulder.
‘You want to press it? Go and press it.’
His hands shook like she was threatening to cut off his head, not stab him with a Paper Mate. And she felt calmer. The wheels inside her mind started to turn.
‘But it’s probably me who should be pressing it, right?’
‘Don’t press it.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Don’t do it.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because, they won’t believe you. They’ll think it’s a sign that you’re sicker than they thought.’
‘No they won’t,’ she smirked, ‘because, I’m not imagining this.’
Karl was still shaking, but he leaned across to the table and fingered his ring binder open. There was a piece of paper in there with her name on it. Some portions were highlighted in yellow.
‘Just read that,’ he said meekly. ‘I’m not a pedophile. I’m not an abuser. I just don’t want you to get in any more trouble, than you’re already in.’
And Janine felt her hand lowering, mechanically lowering until it rested, heavily by her side. She pulled the binder towards her and glanced at the page. The highlighted sections reminded her of something she had seen before – a school report maybe, or the print out of a criminal record? Various acronyms jumped of off the page, PTSD, ADD, SEX AB and below a longer word, Confabulation. Her finger reached out and touched it.
‘Confabulation,’ Karl said. ‘It means your brain tells you things have happened when they haven’t.’
Janine took her hand away.
‘False memories.’ He sat up again in his chair. ‘It’s something you’ll learn to work with as time goes by, with the right therapy. But you understand the other terms don’t you?’
Janine looked back at the letters. ‘I guess, I do.’
‘So you don’t need me to explain, what kind of things you might imagine.’
The room began to shrink. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘If you want to talk about that stuff, about anything, I’m here for you. But if you don’t, we don’t have to, but either way, we need to recognize what just happened and move on.’
‘Fine.’ Janine let the pen slip out of her hands and it found its way into the rings of the binder. ‘Let’s do that. Let’s go with option number two.’
Chad
He’d come in of his own free will. Was that crazy? It felt crazy. But he had a reason to be here. If Janine Kenny couldn’t tell them he didn’t hit her, he was going to need to show them his evidence. Okay, Officer Randal didn’t hit the girl, no one did, but Randal thought that he had. That’s why he moved his patrol car.
Show them the photos. That was the plan. But he’d been here an hour already, waiting to see someone.
Chad counted off another half an hour before getting up to see if he could find anyone. The hallway was busy with cops, and as he came around the side towards the bathroom, he skirted past the reception area. There was a woman there with short hair and a pissed off look on her face, someone Chad would have figured for a cop if she weren’t standing on the wrong side of the counter.
‘Ma’am...’ A skinny, old cop with a mustache was trying to calm her. ‘I’m not sure I know what you’re asking me to do.’
Chad turned to the bathroom door, but a hand came out and stopped him.
‘Sir, you can’t just walk around here unescorted…’ the cop said.
‘But I’ve been waiting hours and I need to visit the bathroom!’
‘If you’ll just wait in the interview suite, I’ll send someone to escort you to the bathroom.’
‘But it’s right here.’
The cop had already turned him around, but Chad’s attention flittered over to the woman. He’d seen her somewhere before.
‘I’m talking about closed circuit TV cameras,’ she said. ‘I want to just take a look. I know when and where to look. I just need to see if anyone picked it up.’
‘Ma’am. We can’t allow members of the public to watch our tapes to retrieve lost property.’
And the cop at Chad’s back carried on steering him down the hall. Go
od job he didn’t really need to pee.
Chad pushed open the door and detectives Tanner and Caffey looked his way. Caffey had been on a sunbed. His chest up to his face looked red and sore.
‘So come on, big shot,’ Caffey said. ‘Tell us what you know.’
‘I have something to show you.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You want to turn on the recorder?’ Chad asked.
‘This isn’t an interview,’ Tanner replied. ‘You asked to see us, right? You want to explain why you don’t want to accept the charge, but we don’t care. We’ve got more important things to deal with right now.’
‘You shouldn’t underestimate me. I wouldn’t come down here just to talk to you guys for no reason. I’ve got evidence to show you.’
‘Evidence?’ The word echoed out of both their mouths.
‘You want to submit evidence?’ Tanner asked. He pulled down on his check shirt and straightened his cuffs. ‘Do you get what evidence is, Chad? If you went out to the County Road and found something and brought it here, if you removed it from the scene, it would no longer be evidence.’
‘Are you going to turn on the machine or not?’
‘You want your lawyer down here?’ Caffey smirked.
‘No.’
‘Okay, buddy. But you’d better not be yanking my chain.’ And Caffey leaned over and pressed a button on the panel.
‘Despite not wanting his lawyer present, Mr. Purcell has asked us to record this conversation. He would like to show us something he believes would support his decision to challenge a reckless driving charge. A misdemeanor reckless driving charge, as it is now.’ And he smiled as if this was a ridiculous waste of time.
‘Here.’ Chad put his phone down on the table and spun it around. ‘This is a photo of Officer Randal getting into his car.’
‘Wait just a minute.’ Caffey went for the phone. ‘I’ll say what the photo shows. Don’t you go jumping to conclusions.’ He spoke up towards the mike. ‘Chad Purcell is showing us a photo on his personal phone. The photo shows Officer Randal either entering or exiting his patrol vehicle. The time on the photo is 04.11 am on the Monday morning.’