Phantom Limb: A Gripping Psychological Thriller

by Lucinda Berry

Teresa reached up to a shelf and pulled down two small boxes covered in construction paper and magazine clippings. Shelly and Tobi got busy. Doris wasn’t with us. She’d flipped out while she was getting dressed and was still recovering from her shot. It usually took her a long time to come back to life after they’d put her out. Arlene was missing too. She’d been sick for the last two days and hadn’t left her room.

  “Arlene’s faking being sick so she doesn’t have to go to the state hospital,” Shelly said at breakfast. “She knows the doctors are going to send her to the state hospital, so she’s going to pretend like she has some terrible disease so they won’t send her, but they’ll send her. It’s not going to work. It never does. The last time I was here they sent a guy with AIDS to state. If they sent him, they’ll send anyone.”

  I didn’t trust much of what Shelly said, but I was pretty sure she was right about Arlene going to the state hospital. She’d pulled so much of her hair out that she looked like she was going through chemotherapy. None of the medications the doctors forced her to take made a difference. She’d started to have accidents too, and became hysterical if any of the nurses tried to point it out or clean her up. It made the group room smell terrible.

  I looked at Rose and shook my head as Denise followed suit and declared she wanted to make a god box too. Rose rolled her eyes back at me and mouthed, “Of course she does.”

  I had no idea what a god box was, but the mention of God made me think about Thomas again. Rose and I took our seats, not picking up any of the art materials. Teresa didn’t seem to mind that we weren’t doing artwork.

  “I’m going to call Thomas today,” I said.

  “Who’s Thomas?” she asked.

  “My boyfriend, I guess. At least he was. I haven’t talked to him much since I got here.”

  “What? You have a boyfriend? I’m totally jealous. Tell me all about him. Everything. I wanna know.” She bounced up and down on her chair.

  “There isn’t much to tell, really. His name is Thomas. We’ve been going out for a year. We met at work.”

  “And then? I want the good stuff. The drama. Did he cheat on you? Is he being supportive of you being sick?”

  “There really isn’t drama. He’s my first boyfriend who ever lasted more than a few months. He’s probably the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. I was super into him before the accident.” The accident was how Rose and I referred to what happened before I got to the hospital.

  “Was the sex good at least?”

  Thomas and I never had sex. I was a twenty-year-old virgin and not because of a deep religious conviction to save myself for marriage like what kept him from doing it. I didn’t like sex stuff. Never had. I wanted to like it because people were supposed to, but my body froze.

  “You mean you don’t think it’s creepy I’m still a virgin?” Thomas asked after he’d told me about his virginity.

  It was many movie nights into our relationship. It was my turn to pick and he’d pretended to suffer through another one of my romantic comedies even though I was pretty sure he secretly liked them.

  “No.”

  It was unusual, but I didn’t think it was creepy. I debated whether I should tell him my status during the car ride back to my house. I’d never told another guy I was a virgin. I always pretended I wasn’t, but I took a risk with Thomas.

  “I’m a virgin, too,” I announced.

  “You are? Really?”

  He’d spent the last twenty minutes of the drive explaining his religious convictions to me before making his proclamation, but I didn’t share his convictions, so my announcement was shocking.

  “Can I ask why?”

  “I don’t like sex.”

  “How do you know if you’ve never had it?”

  “I’ve done other things.”

  I’d let boys explore my body in high school. I’d let them grope and poke and prod at me. They’d grabbed my chest and squeezed and pulled till it hurt while they groaned with excitement. I’d let them play around inside me with their hands, but their insertions gave me as much enjoyment as inserting a tampon.

  “And you didn’t like any of it? They must not have known what they were doing.” He said it with the air of confidence that assumed he did.

  I’d heard it before. It was what every guy I’d dated said.

  “I think I’m numb from the waist down.”

  I’d never felt a thing. Unlike me, Emily loved sex and couldn’t get enough of it. She’d do it with strangers and I could never understand what she got out of it. She would tell me in great detail how it was supposed to feel and she’d even convinced me to try masturbating. I’d done it exactly how she instructed me, but still felt nothing. I might as well have been playing with my belly button.

  Thomas belonged to the “everything but sex” club. He may not have been able to be the one who took away my virginity, but he was determined to be the one who gave me my first orgasm. I liked kissing him, though, because he was a great kisser. Guys I’d dated before rushed by kissing like it was a prerequisite to be checked off the list before they got to what they really wanted.

  Thomas liked kissing as much as I did and he wasn’t in a hurry to get somewhere else. I refused to take my pants off so we dry humped like teenagers and my first orgasm came as a total surprise during one of our sessions. Fully clothed. I didn’t tell him it had happened for a month because I felt so silly about it. When I finally did, I was bright red because it seemed too juvenile, but he was elated. He didn’t care how I’d gotten off. He was just glad to be the one to get me there. It wasn’t long after and he followed suit. We had better fully clothed simulated sex than some people have real sex.

  “We never had sex, but we fooled around and it was pretty good.”

  “What are you going to say to him when you call?” she asked. “Are you going to ask him to come today?”

  I hadn’t thought about asking him to come.

  “Can he come today?” I asked.

  “Yep. On Sundays you can have visitors anytime you like. They can even eat with you if you want them to. They have to either bring their own food or order a tray from the hospital.”

  I hurried to the phone as soon as occupational therapy was over. I was afraid I’d lose my nerve if I didn’t do it right away. I was the first in line, and before I knew it, I was punching his number into the phone. Besides Bob and Dalila’s phone number, his cell phone number was the only one I knew by heart. My heart pounded as it rang. My throat was dry and my palms were wet on the receiver. I kept wiping them off. I was about to hang up before his voicemail came on when he answered.

  “Hello?” he said breathlessly.

  “Hi … it’s … it’s Elizabeth.”

  “Oh, hey, hi.” I heard the excitement in his voice. “I’ve been thinking about you. I’d say praying for you, but I know how mad you get when I say that.” He laughed nervously. The air stretched out between us.

  “How’s work?” I asked.

  “It’s good. The same old stuff. You know. People still ask me about you. You know how they all like to gossip.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I don’t tell them anything. Everyone thinks you went on medical leave or something. I’m sure Josh would give you your job back when you get out.”

  “Cool.” Another long pause. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Thanks for asking.” His voice was so polite. “How are you?”

  “I’m good too.”

  More dead air. This time, it lasted longer.

  “I’m so glad you called. I wanted to call or write you a letter, but Lisa said I should give you your space and that you’d get in touch with me when you’re ready. I’m so glad you called. I already said that.” He laughed nervously. “I hope you’re not mad that I talked to Lisa. It’s just that she’s been so helpful.”

  “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “Good. I really like talking to her. I couldn’t stand talking to that Dr. Larson dude. I felt like a complet
e idiot every time I talked to him. I mean, would it kill him to act like a regular person?”

  I laughed. It felt good to laugh.

  “I’d really like to be able to visit you again. I miss you.”

  “Do you? I mean with all this stuff? With me being so crazy.”

  “I love you more than I did before.”

  My heart melted. He still loved me even though I was in a psych ward.

  “Can I come see you? Please? Just me. I won’t bring Bob or Dalila. We don’t even have to talk. We can just sit together. I’d love to sit next to you.”

  “Yes, please come.”

  17

  I sat next to Thomas on my bed with a stranger on guard in the doorway, more nervous than I was on our first date. I’d started crying when he walked onto the unit. I’d cried in front of Rose and now I’d cried in front of Thomas too. I was afraid to open my mouth and say anything in case I started crying again.

  “You look better than the last time I saw you.” He smiled.

  “You do too.” I smiled back. The dark circles under his eyes were gone.

  We sat without touching. He stared at me while I stared at the whitewashed wall in front of me. My skin felt hot like I might have a fever.

  “I’m glad you finally let me visit. I was thinking about ways to get myself locked up in here so I’d get to see you.” He reached for my hand. I entwined my fingers with his like we used to do in his Honda during our lunch breaks. His hands were as sweaty as mine. I still hadn’t found my voice. “Bob and Dalila seem like really nice people.”

  I nodded.

  “Bob kind of reminds me of a skinny Santa Claus.”

  “He does. You’re totally right.”

  It felt good to sit next to him. I moved closer so our thighs touched. “I’m sorry for everything. All of this. And everything before. I didn’t know what was going on. I still don’t. I mean—”

  He put his hand up to my lips. “Shh, it’s okay. Really, it is. You don’t have to try to explain everything right now. I understand. I get it. I do, and I know it’s going to be okay.”

  I wasn’t sure it was ever going to be okay but it felt good to hear him say it.

  “Can I bring you something? Anything?” he asked.

  “A key out of here.”

  It was a terrible joke, but we laughed anyway to break the tension.

  “Look, I’d be totally freaking out right now if I were you. I completely understand not wanting to have to worry about me and our relationship, but can I still be your friend?”

  A huge lump rose in my throat. “I could really use a friend right now.”

  I started to cry again. I was hurting and no longer cared if anyone saw it. He took me in his arms and I clung to him like drowning people seize life preservers. He held me for a long time until the tears subsided. He didn’t bother to speak because there weren’t any words to fix what was happening. We stayed locked in our embrace, talking about school and work until it was time for him to leave.

  He came back Monday night for visiting hours. It was nice and similar to being in his dorm room, except the shoe in the doorway was replaced with a person on a chair. I was so used to having a shadow that whoever it was seemed more like a statue than a living being. I regaled him with stories about the unit. He laughed so hard he got tears in his eyes when I told him about Doris declaring she was going to kill her mother during my first group therapy session and agreed that it was ridiculous how Shelly and her gang dressed up every day. He brought me a Subway sandwich loaded with extra cheese and jalapeños just the way I liked it. It was the first piece of nonhospital food I’d had in almost two weeks. He might as well have brought me filet mignon. I was sad when it was time for him to leave.

  “I brought you something,” he said, reaching for his backpack next to the bed.

  “Really?”

  I still remembered the first present he gave me. It was for my birthday and he’d given me Maya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman. This time, he pulled out a thick blue folder and handed it to me.

  “I hope this doesn’t make you mad. I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I think if I was you, I’d feel really alone. It got me thinking and I started doing some research. I found an online support forum for people who’ve lost their twins. I thought it was pretty amazing. It’s all people like you who’ve had their twin die. They talk about their experiences and tell personal stories and stuff. I thought you might like to read them, so I used up half my ink printing out a bunch of it.” His face broke into his familiar wide smile. I’d missed it. “I hope you read it. It might help you not feel so alone.”

  I took the folder and placed it on my lap, setting my hands on top of it. “Thank you.”

  Rose, Tobi, Shelly, and Denise stared at him as he left. They’d missed him yesterday because Tobi and Shelly were visiting with their families. Denise had been sleeping and it was close enough to dinner that Rose was already in her private dinner session. She’d been so bummed that she didn’t get to see him. He was barely out the locked door before they started squealing.

  “Oh my God, he’s so cute,” Rose said.

  “Totally,” Denise said.

  Shelly bounced up and down next to Tobi. “How’d it go?”

  “It was nice. It went really well.” I’d give Rose all the details when we were by ourselves, but I didn’t trust the others. The TV was on and everyone was crowded around it. “I didn’t even know that thing worked.”

  The rest of the group was watching an old Tom Hanks movie. Someone had even popped popcorn. I wasn’t interested in the movie, but wanted to shift their attention from me because I couldn’t wait to see what was inside my folder. We joined the group and I started reading while they watched the movie.

  The pages were filled with people like me who’d lost a twin. There were hundreds of them. I devoured the stories as if I was a starving child who’d just been given their first meal. Their stories were heartbreaking and I related to the depths of their despair. It was like someone had crawled into my brain and typed the script. Every person talked about feeling like half of a person without their twin. They described feeling like they were the same soul in a different body and struggling to go on without their other part. Some of them couldn’t move forward. Others refused to. Many of them talked about contemplating suicide. A few of them had tried. I started to cry as I read about a man who tried to kill himself after losing his brother to a heroin overdose. The comments were filled with support from fellow twins who’d turned to thoughts of suicide after losing their twin.

  I was fascinated with their descriptions of the things they’d done to try to keep their twin alive. Some talked to their twin in the mirror. Others began dressing like them. A seventeen-year-old girl shared how she’d always worn her hair long and her sister had always kept her hair short, but she cut all of her hair off in the weeks following her sister’s death. There were those who kept a journal or a diary where they wrote letters to their lost twin and then pretended to be the other twin writing back.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks. I was no longer alone. I wasn’t a freak for pretending Emily was still alive. Everyone like me had been unable to deal with the weight of losing their twin and done something to keep them alive until they were strong enough to start living without them. I still didn’t know how I’d done it or how any of it worked, but I was beginning to see it was possible I had. My brain couldn’t wrap itself around the enormity of the details and I didn’t know if I’d ever be at a place where I could imagine living without Emily, but I was moving in the direction of acknowledging that Emily had been dead for two years. That night I fell asleep hugging the papers to my chest as if they were a teddy bear.

  18

  “I see you’ve been having visitors,” Dr. Larson said on Tuesday morning as soon as our session began. He smiled.

  It was the first time I’d seen him smile. It didn’t fit his face.

  “Not visitors. Just Thomas.”

  “How
’d it go? Did you enjoy your time?” he asked.

  I blushed and looked down. “It went good.”

  “I have some good news for you. During our team meeting this morning, we decided to remove you from one-on-one supervision,” he said. “We no longer feel you need to be monitored so closely.”

  I wanted to clap. I felt better than when I won the spelling bee in fourth grade. I was so proud of myself. I had a long way to go down whatever strange road I was on, but I’d made some kind of progress in the team’s eyes. I didn’t know what I’d done to show them I was no longer a threat to myself, but I didn’t care. It only mattered that I’d made a step forward.

  “I thought we might be able to get back to the discussion we were having on Friday about your diagnosis. Did you find any helpful information about it?”

  Should I tell him about Rose’s book? Was it okay that she had it?

  “I looked it up in a book and it didn’t make much sense.”

  “Did you look it up in the DSM?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. It was some statistical book with nine hundred pages of mental disorders.”

  He smiled again. It looked as out of place the second time. “That’s the book. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. We call it the DSM for short.”

  “Was I not supposed to?” I asked.

  “I figured you would. Most patients get better at reading it and finding their way through it than some of us. It’s very normal to be curious about your diagnosis and there’s no way to Google it in here.” He’d smiled and now he’d tried to make a joke. It was the first time he seemed human. “Do you have any questions after reading it?”

  “I didn’t get it. Rose’s list seemed so clear-cut and described her almost perfectly. Mine sounded like I was possessed by the devil or something.”

  “Dissociative disorders can be very confusing even for us. We classify disorders according to symptoms. There’s a bunch of disorders that have dissociation as their common symptom. In order to have a disorder, you’ve got to meet a certain number of criteria. For example, let’s take Rose and anorexia. I bet she met all the symptoms listed, right?”