“You must talk with my husband about that.”
“You pick men up off the street.”
“One man.”
“You indulged your sexual fantasies with him.”
“I fulfilled a promise.”
“To what end?”
“To get back at Joel.”
“But at what cost?”
“I thought you knew.” Kendra savored the moment. “I sacrificed my very sanity. And you know what? It was worth it.”
Chapter 22
JODY WAS CAUGHT self-mutilating herself. When confronted, she screamed and shouted and cried and protested but couldn’t overcome the gentle though persuasive measures of the staff or the effects of the hypo they injected into her arm.
Without inflicting further damage to herself or others, she gave up the razor blade acquired through covert means and allowed herself to be led away, first for medical attention and then to the downtime room, where she stayed for the remainder of the day.
When Kendra returned from her one-on-one with Doctor Silverstein, the ward was buzzing with news of its fallen comrade. A pall lingered as everyone tiptoed from place to place and whispered to each other in small cabals. None looked forward to the same fate, though some had already undergone the indignity of soft restraints and quieting techniques behind closed doors.
Throughout the afternoon, Kendra repeatedly asked after the girl but only received facile assurances.
When Jody emerged toward evening, Kendra was in the dayroom. After hearing the floor erupt with manic disorder verging on full-blown pandemonium, she worked her way through the gathering throng. Although still groggy and disoriented, Jody had fight left in her still. She sobbed and cried and sniveled and mumbled, and throughout, refused to be taken back to her room. “I won’t go! You can’t make me! I want to go home! Now!” In the middle of the ward, she staged a one-woman sit-down strike, tearing at her hair and sinking onto her haunches. A dead weight of despair, she held onto the last shred of pride left her in a roomful of strangers.
Everyone backed off. Kendra moved forward. When her exhausted eyes lifted, Jody begged for deliverance. Kendra gathered her up and shepherded her away, first toward her room, but when she resisted, into the women’s shower room. “What did they do to you, honey?”
“I-it’s like tripping on LSD.” Hiccups and hyperventilation punctuated sobbing outbursts. Exhausted from the ordeal, she was left only with surrender. “Th-they put you down like a baby in a crib. Wrap you in heavy blankets so you can’t move. P-put on this f-freaking lightshow with weird sound effects.”
“It’s meant to be kind.”
“Kind, shit! It’s degrading! I hate my parents! Hate them for putting me here!” With every sentence, she screamed louder. She wanted the whole world to hear her, even if only a few would, and even fewer would give a damn.
“They’re only trying to protect you.”
“I-I’m not crazy.”
“Of course, you’re not.” Kendra helped her off with her sweat-soaked clothes.
“Th ... they should have let me do it.”
“Do what, honey?”
“Off myself.”
Jody barely had strength to balance over her feet. Her ribs huffed through papery skin. Kendra handled her clumsily. A ceramic-tiled corner substituted as armature. Jody’s mousy brown hair tracked down her face like water snakes, obliterating copious tears and an ugly cry. Though her eyelids drooped, high beams peered through sleepy apertures. Fits of uncontrollable shivering lasted for seconds, dissipated, and built for the next attack.
“I ... I wanted to ... to checkout. They should’ve let me.”
Kendra fixated on the girl’s bandaged arm. Brownish stains seeped through the gauze. Jody had done it right by slicing her flesh from elbow to wrist along the inner seam. Since she hadn’t dug the blade deeply enough, her desperate act accomplished little but disfigurement.
Jody fell against Kendra, gripping her around the neck and bewailing utter misery. She was close to collapsing, not in a graceful folding of vapors but in a finger snap of defeat.
“You’ll have to help me,” Kendra said. “Will you do it?”
She awakened from her wretchedness. Beneath the ashen complexion, a rosy glow ached to break out, returning her to what she had always been: delicate and noble. She reminded Kendra of herself at that age, harder up and wearier, but Kendra McSweeney all the same, gazing out at the brightness of hope from the depths of misery. Her needs awakened Kendra from her own prolonged sleep of apathy. Sympathy for another young spirit was an intoxicant. The drunkenness became its own reward. In that narrow space of time, the women—separated by more than a decade—joined as sisters to the core. Underneath they were perfect pearls. Lustrous, tactile, smooth, and gems of incalculable worth.
Jody trembled. Her heartbeat trebled. She tossed back her head and squeezed her eyes shut. What little color lit up her face was hosed off in the spray of water.
Kendra entered the shower and kissed Jody along the face, from a spot on her brow around to the petulant chin, shaky with grief. She defined the girl’s breasts with the tips of her wavering fingers as if to sketch them the way artists do using broken bits of charcoal. Jody’s rounded shoulder, generously given, swept beneath Kendra’s lips. After that, her breasts lifted on a breath. Kendra bent to kiss them as she had kissed her face. When lips met lips, the women exchanged emotions more complex than infatuation. Empathy and compassion walked a fine line while running water drowned out minute noises of rapture.
Becoming aware of voices resonating just outside, Kendra turned to look but saw nothing past a wall layered with countless droplets, each reflecting two women embraced in a clutch of love. Jody urged her back. She gave Kendra one last kiss, a sweet parting, and said, “I’m okay. And so are you.”
After drying off and changing, they settled in Jody’s room, where the girl curled into a fetal position, eyes open but seeing nothing. The quiescence had passed. The genie dove back into the bottle. Only embittered angst remained inside either woman. Jody fought closing her eyes, but her struggle with self-hatred had robbed her of vitality. Sluggish infirmity wormed into every limb and muscle, and eventually she sank into the pillows, sleeping restively.
Someone wearing low-heeled pumps entered. Without gazing back, Kendra knew who it was. “Will she live to see twenty?”
Doctor Silverstein said, “She’ll get past this. She’ll move on. So will you.” As stealthily as the doctor had appeared, she disappeared.
Chapter 23
OVER THE FOLLOWING days, Evelyn Silverstein was persistent. More than persistent. For today’s appointment, she fit herself into the fixed leather chair, her legs folded prudishly at the ankles. Kendra occupied the couch in a semi-prone position, indifferent to the occasion but not the subject matter. “How’s Joel?”
“Back at work.”
“How long have I been here? I lost track.”
“Six days.”
“Life returns to normal for everyone else.”
“Don’t be so eager to leave. It won’t be easy getting back into the swing of things.”
“Especially after pushing my husband down the stairs. Do you think he’ll forgive me? Do you think I’ll forgive myself? I don’t think I can ever forgive my father for going around me over the will.”
“Your father chose Joel to protect his interests and spare you.”
“Neither consulted me.”
“Because your father knew what you would accuse him of. More, what you would force him to admit.”
“Imagine growing up with a mother who talks nonsense and a father who fudges the issue. It’s no wonder I am the way I am.” Her laughter sounded hollow because she was hollow inside. She still hadn’t wept for Mac. Or her ruined marriage. “It’s no wonder he never expected much from me. I was a big disappointment to him.”
“He knew you’d find it difficult to look after your mother after he was gone. He understood your limitations. And that�
�s what really ticks you off, isn’t it?”
Kendra ran fingers through her hair. It was a stall tactic, a way to avoid having to speak the truth, even if the truth was always standing before her like a gory, bloodstained ghost. “Looking at her is like looking in the mirror.”
“Only because you’re afraid you’ll inherit the same disease.”
“Can you guarantee I won’t? Or that I haven’t already?”
“You haven’t yet. As for the future ....” The doctor let out a sigh, as much from exasperation as impatience. “There’s no guarantee that you won’t get run over by a truck, either.”
“Joel pawned my wedding rings.”
“You’re evading the issue.”
“Do you think I lost them on purpose?”
“No, but why blame Joel when they simply slipped down the drain?”
“He took them to trick me.” She rubbed the finger where the white band of untanned skin reminded her of their separation.
“Maybe you lost your wedding rings as a subconscious act.”
“Oh, please, Doctor. Don’t go Freudian on me. It’s insulting.” Kendra sat forward and punched her hands between her knees. The carpet was institutional brown, the better to absorb unintentional spills, calculated accidents, and bloodletting. “If I wanted to dissolve my marriage, there are easier ways.”
“Such as manslaughter?”
“I wasn’t trying to kill him.”
“You nearly succeeded.”
“Joel is tough. It would take more than a dive off the stairs to do him in.”
“What did you want from him that night?”
“To tell me the truth.”
“That he was involved with another woman?”
“That he gave the bitch my credit cards.”
“A woman in her right mind would have reached a different conclusion. She wouldn’t have dreamt up a nefarious plot perpetrated by the man she loves.” Evelyn pressed the point by leaning forward and staring Kendra down. “She would have called the banks, cancelled the cards, and had new ones issued.”
“You forget. The merchandise was in my closet. Or stuffed under my bed.”
“And the receipts?”
“Those, too. Or not. So many plastic bags, you wouldn’t believe.”
“Did you tell Joel?”
“Shit, I didn’t tell myself.” Feeling restless, Kendra sprang to her feet and sauntered over to the doctor’s desk. The polished surface was covered with color-coded patient files, telephone messages neatly spread out, and a framed family portrait containing a husband, a daughter, a son, and the family dog. She spun around to face Evelyn. “You should have seen the monthly statements. I shred them to pieces because I didn’t want him to know. Isn’t that a laugh and a half?”
“You don’t remember shopping for the clothes?”
“As it turned out, I didn’t. Mrs. Santana proved that.”
“Just the one time.”
“Joel put her up to it.”
“Why would he do that?” Evelyn’s sharp eyes dared her to come clean.
“To make me think ...” She paused mid-sentence and sat again, lowering head into hands and pulling at her hair. Her voice was muffled when she said, “To make me think I was turning into my mother. Like my brother did.” She gazed up and met the doctor’s unflinching stare. “Tell me, Doctor. Have you ever seen an eighteen-year-old stretched out in a coffin? No? Well, trust me. It’s something you never forget. Especially when ....” Her throat tightened.
When dear, sweet, sensitive Danny knew what he had become; understood what was in store for him; foresaw a succession of psych wards, mind-numbing drugs, and a ruined future, he used one of his last moments of sanity and took matters into his own hands.
“What happened to Danny was tragic. But what does that have to do with Joel?”
“Everything.” Insight illuminated her mind like sunlight stippling rocks in a fast-moving stream. She would never confess certain truths to anyone. Like the blackouts. Sometimes she was with Joel. Sometimes not. She’d be eating dinner, drinking wine, laughing, or doing nothing in particular. The next thing she knew, she was lying in her own bed and awakening to the light of morning. How could she explain the inexplicable, except to accept her incapacitation or find another explanation? “He wants to get me out of the way. So he can have his women and still be married to me.”
“What can he get from them that he can’t have with you?”
Kendra shrugged.
“Sexual gratification? Money? Status?”
“Children.”
“You don’t want any. And Joel does. But he wants them for your sake as much as for his. He’s comfortable with the idea of adoption. Or for that matter, a childless marriage. He’s told you so. In fact, he’s indulged you in every way possible. Encouraged you to quit your job. Renovate the house. Go back to school.”
“He said I was tired. Stressed out.”
“Weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t that tired. Not that stressed out. Not from work, anyway.”
“Is there something else you’re not telling me? Or Joel isn’t telling me?”
The doctor had purposely thrown out the question like a lure and given Kendra a choice ... to take the bait or swim on by. “You’ve been talking to him? To Joel? In sessions like this?” She thought about it, but not for long. “Then everything you’ve been saying ... everything you’ve used as artillery against me ... came straight from Joel.”
“We’re not against you, Kendra. We’re for you. We want you to get better.”
“Singular, Doctor. You want me to get better.”
“Joel wants you back. Not the sick Kendra, but the Kendra he fell in love with.”
Up until this moment, she had been trapped between two realities. Either she really was going crazy. Or Joel had been systematically driving her crazy. And a woman faced with a choice like that would choose insanity rather than accept that the man she loved was capable of such vileness.
She felt a diabolical smile spread across her face. “Your diagnosis doesn’t go far enough, Doctor. Your diplomas and certificates don’t amount to a pile of crap if you can’t come up with a diagnosis better than borderline personality disorder. Joel must be disappointed. I’m sure he was hoping for ... no, counting on ... full-blown psychosis.”
A mixture of lavender and lilies—a perfume Emily wore many years ago—atomized the air. Two amorphous spots of bright liquid dotted her sweatpants. Her throat ached with swallowed tears. She waited until she could again take control of her voice. “Joel loves me. I’m certain of that. Even if I am crazy.” A sigh dispelled the crying jag waiting to happen. “Now what? Now that I’ve admitted I was ... I am ... off my rocker ... what happens next?”
“You get well. But don’t get me wrong. There are no easy fixes. It’ll take hard work on your part. Plus time and patience.”
“What about Joel?”
“He forgives you. He wants you back.”
“Only because of the scandal. Imagine him explaining this to his parents. Being an only child, he has to be the perfect son, pick the perfect wife, father the perfect children, and carry on the perfect legacy. I’m sure he’s turned Jordan and Lenore against me by now.”
“You have two or possibly three choices,” Evelyn said. “You can go on believing your husband conspired against you for nefarious reasons unexplained. You can also go on fearing you’ll wind up like your mother. Or you can return to us whole.”
“What if a piece of me has been missing and always will be? Who is the real me, anyway? I really don’t know anymore. I don’t think there has ever been a real me.”
By now, doctor and patient had played musical chairs. Kendra occupied the patient’s chair, and the doctor swiveled from side to side in her desk chair.
Kendra said, “When I look into the mirror, I see myself reflected there, but in reverse, left on right and right on left. When I look into your eyes, I see myself inverted and doubled. A Kodak image
of me is only that. A two-dimensional representation of someone named Kendra. A video camera gets the closest to representing the real me, but that too is an illusion, narrowed down to a fraction of time.”
“Your point being ...?”
“I can only look at myself from the inside out. And wonder what it’s like to see me from the outside in. That’s the joke God has played on us. That’s why we go mad. Because we can never see ourselves as others see us.”
“Except through your husband’s eyes.” The doctor didn’t say it. Joel had.
A single door led into the doctor’s office. Kendra closed it when she arrived. She hadn’t heard the door open. Or sensed someone standing in the doorway, listening to her every word.
Had she glanced back, whatever strength she built up over the last few days would have collapsed. To Doctor Silverstein, she said, “Are we going to sit down, the three of us, and have an intimate chat, something along the lines of marital fidelity and responsibility?”
“We’re not ganging up on you.”
“Oh no?” She lowered her head into the bracing palm of her hand and focused on the opposite hand, the one shaking in her lap.
Moving gingerly, as if his bones were brittle and his muscles sore with fatigue, Joel lowered himself at her feet. A swath of dark hair fell across his brow and a pernicious headache squeezed the pale blue eyes between creased folds. Facial bruises mottled the chiseled facets, and disfiguring puffiness threw off-center the good looks, the sanguine appeal, and the rakish profile. Worse than the visible damage were the emotional wounds, evident in his scattered breaths. Joel was truly suffering.
Kendra discounted her diagnosis and took the lower road, the one that accused him of grandstanding. “Is this the part where you win me over?”
“I miss you. I want you back home with me.” His voice rasped with fatigue. He had turned into a distant relative: a second cousin or a great uncle she once met years ago, and was a stranger to her now. He encircled his arms around her waist and laid his cheek against her belly as if listening to the emptiness of her womb. Her first instinct was to break loose and run. But his shoulders trembled. She wanted to still them, not for his sake but for hers.
Trick of the Mind Page 17