For the first time his gaze moved and his eyes widened. I felt him tense. Noah jerked his hand out of my grip. He stared at his palm where the skin was red. His fingers opened and closed. I tried to burn him again and he resisted.
“Noah, answer me.” I tried to sound angry but my voice trembled. “Answer me or I’ll do it again.” I put all my strength behind forcing his hand over the flame again. His mouth opened and closed, and he yanked back again. I tried to seize his hand and he wouldn’t let me. I welcomed the fight. The third time I lit the lighter, he slapped it out my hand and sent it skittering under the bed.
I sobbed and held him. Even if he didn’t hold me back it was something. A reaction, life, a sense of self preservation. I was willing to work for the rest.
*** *** ***
Dr. Chance reduced my medicine. I found out why two days later. Jonas was coming to visit. It was very warm for the middle of September and the leaves hadn’t begun to change. One of the nurses brought me a sundress to wear. It had no sleeves and hung low enough showing my bruises. The worst of them were on my thighs.
Noah punched me now when I held his hand over the lighter. It wasn’t my name or a word, but it was still a reaction. I put on the dress, but refused the sandals and went barefoot.
I met Jonas in the visitation room. He sat on the sofa instead of the table where he’d always met with Grom. The sight of him there reminded me of Emma’s visit and left a sour taste in my mouth.
“You don’t look very happy to see me.”
I shrugged.
His gaze went to my arm. There was a big black mark near my elbow. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re bruised.”
“I fell.”
He didn’t look convinced but let it drop. “You look very nice today.”
I felt stupid standing there half naked. I folded my arms and unfolded them.
“Would you like to go get some lunch somewhere? I bet I could get Dr. Chance to give me a day pass for you.”
“Not really.”
“What about the garden?”
I shook my head.
Jonas stood up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Fine.”
“Please take a walk with me.” He took my hand. I wanted to stay with Noah. Every second I was not with him felt like a lost chance to bring him back. Jonas tugged and I went with him.
It was warm outside, but not unbearable, and the constant breeze had a crisp feel that belonged with cooler weather. My hair caught in the wind and my bangs fell into my eyes.
“You should see if the nurses will give you some barrettes.” Jonas pushed a lock behind my ear.
“Is there something in particular you wanted to talk about?”
His smile wilted. “Yes, actually.” He led me over to one of the benches and we sat down. “There’s a fall dance being held by our church. I thought you might like to go.”
“No, thank you.”
“I think it would be good for you.”
“I don’t like dancing.”
“You don’t like it, or you don’t know how?”
“Does it matter?”
“Jacqueline, you need to socialize and try to make friends. The dance would be just the place to do that.”
“My name is Jack, and I do have friends.”
“Someone other than Noah.”
“I don’t need anyone but Noah.”
“Yes you do. Dr. Chance told me about the surgery.”
I moved to stand up and he pulled me back down. I tried to twist my hand from his grip. “Let go.”
“Not till you listen to me.”
“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.” I pulled again and he held on.
“He’s not going to be normal.” I froze. Jonas had me and he knew it. “Noah’s gone. People don’t come back from an operation like that.”
“They can. Dan said so.” My voice trembled.
“They usually don’t.”
“He will.”
“And what if he doesn’t? Then what?”
“I don’t care.” I turned away and Jonas put a hand on my cheek and made me look at him.
“I think you do care.”
I did, I really did. Life without Noah just wasn’t possible. I ran a hand over my knee, tracing the flowers on the dress with my finger. I’d lost everything in the past six months, including myself. I couldn’t live through losing Noah. Jonas’s thumb caressed my cheek.
“Jacqueline…”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“It’s your name.” I shook my head. “Yes it is. Your name is Jacqueline and you’re a beautiful young woman who needs someone to care about her.”
“I have someone.”
“Noah can’t.”
“Yes he can. He does. Now let me go!” He did and I slid further down on the bench, rubbing my wrist. Jonas hadn’t hurt me. It was just I could still feel his grip. I wanted to hate Jonas like I did Dr. Chance, but I couldn’t will myself to do it.
“I want to take you to the dance.”
I stared at the ground. “And I told you I don’t want to go.”
“Dr. Chance wants you to go.”
“So?”
“Your sister also wants you to go.”
I met his gaze. “You talked to Emma?”
“Dr. Chance gave me her phone number.”
“You talked to my sister about me?” But hadn’t Emma already said just as much? I guess it didn’t occur to me Jonas would actually call her. My stomach rolled.
“I just wanted her to know who I was. She seemed happy that I called. She’s concerned about you.”
“Emma doesn’t know how to be concerned about anyone but herself.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“You’ve had a conversation with her, you don’t know her. I know her, and she doesn’t give a shit about me.” I felt like I’d been betrayed.
“She wants you to come home.”
I laughed. “She’s the one who put me in here.”
“Because you’re unwell.”
He was right. I was unwell. I’d fallen into the madness and was now hot with its fever. I stood up. “I need to go.”
“Wait.”
I walked toward the door and Jonas followed me.
“Please wait.”
“No.”
“Jacqueline—” Whatever it was he wanted to say, didn’t matter. I took off down the hall.
*** *** ***
Unlike the rest of the hospital, with all its sterile rooms, formulated furniture arrangement, and monotone décor, the art room was chaotic. Obscene colors were finger painted across large pieces of paper along with various black and white drawings. Chairs were awry, sacrificed for the option of standing at an easel. Pencils, pens, crayons, they were all over the tables.
I’d never been in the art room. I’d never needed to until now.
I led Noah to the back of the room where there was an empty space. I figured it was his usual spot since several of his drawings hung on the wall. Where most of the drawings were a mass of disjointed lines, or poorly rendered figures, Noah’s were near photographic. Every detail, every shadow, captures in a series of gray, black and white.
I stood him in front of the easel. “Do you remember this place?” I hoped he did. “You used to come here and draw, and steal the pencil stumps out of the trash.” I brushed his cheeks with my fingertips. His gaze shifted and met mine. He didn’t do it very often, and when he did, it felt like my heart was going to burst.
There was a tray of art supplies on one of the shelves. I got it and a piece of paper and brought it over to him. While I fastened the paper to the backboard of the easel, Noah stared at the wooden box I’d left on the table beside him. His hand twitched and I quit moving. It did it again so I knew it wasn’t on accident. Noah reached out and touched the box, one hand then the other, but he made no attempt to open it.
I finished what I w
as doing and opened it for him. “See, art stuff.” I picked up a piece of black chalk and it made dark powder marks on my fingertips. “I have no idea what any of this is.” A red stick proved to be some sort of waxy substance. I found a pencil. “Now this I know.” I smiled at him but he was still staring at the box.
When I reached for Noah’s hand he pulled it away.
I showed him the pencil. “That’s all it is today, promise.” I took him by the wrist. His muscles tightened but he didn’t pull away. I kissed his palm. I made sure to never leave blisters, but the skin stayed angry and red. The cost was high, but Noah looked at me now. He reacted when I touched him. Sometimes I swore I saw bits of his old self in how he looked at me.
I put the pencil in his hand and closed his fingers around it. I positioned Noah in front of the easel. When he made no move to draw I pushed his arm up by his elbow.
“C’mon. You like to draw. You used to do it all the time.”
He blinked. He stared.
“Noah, please.”
His hand moved. I held my breath. The pencil touched the paper and the charcoal tip rasped against the surface. A jagged line followed his movement. The point snapped and the paper ripped.
Noah dropped his hand back to his side.
I didn’t want to believe what Jonas had said about Noah. I’d convinced myself during the last few weeks he was getting better. Maybe he was getting better than he had been. The swelling was gone from his face, his eye looked normal. He responded to pain. I looked at his hand again. I’d been hurting him just to get some sort of reaction. I’d been so sure it meant something.
I had wondered if the response to pain might not be as critical as I thought it was, but I knew then it was more than likely nothing at all. He could feel pain, he could respond to it, like opening his mouth to eat, like walking to the bathroom on his own. Those parts of his brain had been left intact.
Whatever it was Dr. Chance had done to Noah, hadn’t involved just his mind, but his essence, who he was, and who he was meant to be. Jonas was right and no amount of pain, no amount of love, was going to bring him back.
Chapter Eighteen
Emma and Phillip were in Dr. Chance’s office when I arrived. Two chairs with arms had been brought in from the dayroom to give them a place to sit. I paused in the doorway, caught off guard by their presence. Emma looked ready for a party in her dark green dress and fancy jewelry. The white of her gloves was bright and the pleats in her skirt perfect.
Jonathan’s suit was wrinkled. He didn’t even bother looking at me.
Emma’s gaze scraped over me, taking in the picture I made. Her gaze lingered on my bare feet. I wiggled my toes.
Dr. Chance stood up. “Look who’s here to see you today.” There was tension in his expression and it made his smile crooked. “Come sit down.”
I walked over to my usual spot.
Emma touched the sleeve of my scrub top. “How come you didn’t wear the clothes I brought you?” She looked at Dr. Chance. “Didn’t the nurse give her the clothes? I gave her explicit instructions for her to do that.”
“I’m sure the nurse brought her the garments.”
“Then why isn’t she wearing them? Jacqueline, why aren’t you wearing the clothes I brought you?” Emma shook my arm. “Talk to me. Why isn’t she talking to me?”
“Jacqueline’s gender dysfunction is deeply rooted in depression. I think the medication and the therapy are forcing her to face the real source of her psychosis. Recovery is in stages. What you are seeing is just part of that process.”
“I don’t like it.”
“It’s normal.”
“It’s not normal. Look at her.”
“Mrs. Downey, I can assure you, Jacqueline is doing very well.”
Emma looked at me. “Jonas told me she wouldn’t go to the dance with him. Why won’t you go to the dance with him? He’s a wonderful young man and he likes you.” She touched my hand and I pulled it away. “You’re supposed to be making her better.”
“She is better,” Dr. Chance said.
“I want you to fix her.”
“Mrs. Downey—”
“Tell him, Jonathan. Tell him to fix her!”
Phillip sat up. “Dr. Chance, this whole treatment thing is getting to be expensive. We really need to see some improvement.”
“This isn’t something that can be rushed.”
“Yeah, well, you’re not the one paying for it.”
“Jacqueline was admitted under the teaching hospital guidelines. Your expenses are minimal.”
Phillip thrust his chin up. “A state hospital would cost nothing.”
Dr. Chance shook his head. “I do not think a state hospital would be in her best interests.”
“You’re not paying the bill.”
“I want her better. I want to bring her home.” Emma fondled her hair for a moment, rearranging the curls, pushing back stray wisps. She folded her hands in her lap. “What about the surgery we discussed? You can do it to fix her.”
“I don’t think—”
“I saw this story on the Kennedy family. They had that surgery done on their daughter.”
“Jacqueline isn’t—”
“They said she was prone to mischievousness and now she is at home.”
“Mrs. Downey—”
“I’m sure it will make her behave.”
“This isn’t something a surgery can correct. This is about therapy, and treatment. She’s not a danger to herself or others.”
“She beat you up.”
“She was angry, and with reason.”
“She attacked you, Dr. Chance. She attacked you!” Emma waved a hand around as if indicating the entire hospital. Maybe in her mind I did attack everyone.
“I think you should—”
“Did you know about the incident in Missouri?”
Dr. Chance glanced at me. “What incident?”
“The church, Dr. Chance. Do you know what happened at the church?”
“No.”
Emma huffed. “Of course she wouldn’t tell you. She wouldn’t tell you the truth.”
“Then you tell me.”
“She disgraced our family with her behavior. The entire town knew. I had to leave. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. The way people looked at me. The way they talked behind my back. You wouldn’t believe what she did!”
“Which was what?”
“She told the Sunday school teacher she wasn’t a girl. That she had this thing inside her that told her she wasn’t a girl.” Emma dropped her voice and leaned forward. “She told them she was possessed.”
I did tell the teacher I wasn’t a girl. She thought I should do the needlework project, but I wanted to build a bird house with the boys. She came up with the rest on her own. People believed her too. Just like Emma, they wanted to believe.
Dr. Chance scribbled something down in his note book. “While that is interesting, it’s still not grounds to—”
“I want it done.”
I tried not to flinch.
“Mrs. Downey—”
“I’m in charge of Jacqueline’s care and I want it done. Tell him, Jonathan!”
Phillip leaned forward. “How much will it cost?”
Dr. Chance looked stricken. “Cost is irrelevant. This isn’t something—”
“And you’re not paying for it, so how much?”
“I can’t give you the amount off the top of my head. That isn’t my area. You’d have to talk with the hospital’s financial department.”
“I don’t care how much it costs,” Emma said. “I want you to fix her!”
Phillip glared at Emma. “It does matter.”
“No it doesn’t. If it will make her normal, it doesn’t matter at all. I want it done. You know how, don’t you?”
Dr. Chance put his pen away and the notebook on his desk. “I’ve performed several.”
“Then it’s settled.”
“I think we should discuss this.” He looke
d at me. “Jacqueline, do you have anything to say?” It was almost a plea.
Poor Dr. Chance. He didn’t get it. Emma had spoken and that’s all there was to be said.
“Jacqueline?”
I stared out the window.
“Don’t you have something to say about this?”
I wondered how many times Dr. Chance was going to ask me that question and how long it would take for him to realize I had no intentions of answering it.
“Jacqueline?”
The sky was patch-worked with thick clouds. A small cluster over the parking lot looked like a group of rabbits. I named them, Hippty, Hoppity, Cotton Tail and Bob Tail.
“It’s important we communicate with one another. It’s important you let your sister see the progress you’ve made.”
A yellowed leaf flipped through the air and stuck to the window, pinned there by the wind. When the breeze died the leaf fluttered to the edge joining a few others that lay there. By the end of the month all the leaves on the trees would have turned.
“See, I told you she’s not getting better.”
“Please, Mrs. Downey.”
I was getting too old for Halloween but it was still my favorite time of year. The costumes, the candy. Everybody got to be who they wanted to be on Halloween—monster, ghost, angel, cat, or cowboy—it didn’t matter.
“She isn’t normal. She’s never been normal. I brought her here so you could help her,” Emma said.
“And I am helping her.”
If I could go trick-or-treating I would be an astronaut. I tried to think of a costume for Noah.
“I want the surgery.”
“Mrs. Downey, please.”
I knew all the best places there was to go candy hunting in Union. Some people was stingy and only gave one or two pieces. Others would fill your bucket on one stop.
“Jacqueline.” There was real fear in Dr. Chance’s voice. “I need you to look at me. Please look at me.”
Noah and me could carve Jack-o-Lanterns. We’d give them big teeth and funny eyes.
*** *** ***
The moonlight made everything in my room silver. The blankets became a still pool rippling around my legs, the floor a vast field of pale gray, and the walls mountains pitted with valleys.
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