The Queen of Diamonds

by Tracey Landau

  “Oh really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. His name is Derek.”

  “You meet him yet?”

  “Well, no, but he sounds sweet.… He’s into theatre. You two should meet each other.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Oh, and.…” She put down her fork and looked at me sorrowfully. “I have some sad news. Do remember Dr. Patricia?”

  “You mean my psychologist?”

  “No, no, not Dr. Massy. Dr. Patricia was the child therapist? You had a few sessions at her house when Dr. Massy was gone on her honeymoon.”

  “Oh, right! She had that cool house? Nice house.…”

  “She was killed about a week ago. Someone was robbing the house; the police think she got in the way.”

  “What? That’s crazy!”

  “Yeah, she was a sweet woman,” my father said getting up. “Now, how about I drive you to Molly’s? She’s probably remembered that she forgot you by now. Might as well get you there, before she starts worrying.”

  * * * *

  The police car comes to a sudden stop and I smash into the seat in front of me. It looks like we’ve already reached the hospital. Did I sleep? I must have, it’s 4:18. No wonder the cop’s in a bad mood.

  The cop pulls me out of the car and before me stands that creepy, rotting old building that’s in all those scary movies. The huge building towers over me, cold and intimidating. I’m waiting to see a flash of lightning and hear rolling thunder. As the cop forces me up the steps, I can tell I must be afraid because all around me I’m hearing voices whispering…voices belonging to no one.

  “Voices of the dead, voices of the insane,” one says by my ear. I’ve decided I hate this place.

  * * * *

  “Apartment 208. There should be a spare key hidden in the potted plant,” my father told me when I got out of the car. I bid him farewell and headed up for Molly’s apartment.

  I dug through that potted plant for what must’ve been ten minutes, only to find the key was hidden under it, not in it. I picked up the key and put it in the lock when someone shouted, “Who the hell are you?”

  I turned around and came face to face with a tall girl with blinding blonde hair.

  “What? Hi! Um, I’m Les?”

  “All right, Les, what the hell are you doing with that key?”

  I look at the key, then back at the girl.

  “What? Oh! Oh, are you Trish?”

  “Trish…yes, who are you?”

  “I’m Molly’s brother.”

  “Molly’s broth—Oh! Right! Sorry, here, come in!” She unlocked the door and went inside. “By the way, have you seen Molly? I’ve been looking for her.”

  “No, actually. She was supposed to pick me up at the train station but she didn’t show.…”

  FREEZE. Wait a minute.… Rewind. I found the key under the potted plant. Was that when I first met Trish? Or was it later?

  * * * *

  BUZZ. The cell door clatters as it opens, the metal grinding as the bars wheel back and my room is presented to me. Well, at least it isn’t white and pillowy.

  I might as well be in jail—there is a cot in one corner, a toilet in the other, and above a barred window. There are carvings all over the walls, even messages written in blood…I wonder if they are really there.…

  The cop throws me on the cot, then realizes he forgot to un-cuff me. After he takes the cuffs off and leaves the room, a cute young nurse takes his place. She’d seem sweet if she wasn’t pushing pills in my face.

  “There you go, drink them down with water—”

  “What are these?”

  “They’re pills to help you sleep. Go ahead, drink them down—”

  “What are these?” I demand. “I’ve never taken medication before, for mental illness or sleep. How do you know I won’t react to this stuff?”

  “A reaction is what we want, now take them.”

  “Well, that sounds grave.”

  Two guys come out of nowhere and push me flat against the wall. Even the nurse is unexpectedly strong. She forces the pills right down my throat, which I much prefer over the needle one of the orderlies has with him. I choke trying to swallow the meds, grab the water from the nurse and drink it down, but still there’s a lump in my throat. The nurse smiles at me. I don’t smile back.

  The orderlies let go of me, the nurse steps aside and again I see the redhead. He’s whispering to me again, but his figure is flickering like static. I frown. The whole room is going in and out of focus. Whatever they gave me, it’s doing its job.

  I’m out before the nurse gets back to her office.

  * * * *

  I’m walking around in Molly’s apartment. She’s fighting with someone on the phone. I stand there awkwardly, trying to decide whether or not I should enter. The walls breathe—the whole apartment expands and then starts to compress. I’m being squeezed against the floor and the ceiling.

  Lightning. The phone rings. I pick it up.

  “Hello?” No one answers. Gasoline drips out of the receiver. The entire thing melts and slips between my fingers, like I’m in a Dalí painting.

  “Hello!”

  The voice comes from behind me. I turn around and Scott is standing there smiling.

  “You’re not—” I start.

  “Lying,” he interrupts. He hands me a playing card with an empty front. Then, in the center of the white, a number appears. Twenty-two. Scott shakes his head.

  * * * *

  “Les?”

  The bubble bursts. I open my eyes then quickly shut them, the light too much for me to handle. Where am I?

  “He’s still drowsy from the medication.”

  “Where…,” I try to say, but my throat is sour. I attempt to open my eyes again. For a quick moment I see a flash of something or someone. I can’t think straight—god, I hate meds.

  “Les?”

  “Who is that?!” I shout. The voices are scrambled. Now a bunch of people are speaking very, very quickly. I keep my head in my hands the entire time, but I can sense that I’m being moved. I’m sitting, I’m standing, I’m sitting again. When will these drugs wear off?

  * * * *

  …Desk.

  I’m staring at a desk. It’s a clear, glass desk with papers and pens and little else. How long have I been staring at this table? I blink a little and look around.

  I’m in an office. It has a wood and dark green color scheme, making the desk seem a little out of place. There are wood bookshelves with books and busts. I look down and see I’m sitting on a wooden chair…a nice one. I realize it’s padded and surprisingly comfortable…I like this chair. I’m wearing the same shoes I was wearing the night before (probably all the same clothes as last night) and below my shoes I see my reflection in the nicely polished wood floor. Wait…does this chair have wheels?

  I squeak around in the chair a little. It glides gently across the floor.

  It does have wheels! This chair has it all! I’m smiling at the floor, then suddenly have the strong feeling that I’m being watched. I look next to me. My lawyer is sitting there, her fingers tightly knitted together on her lap. She’s well dressed and staring at me. I hear a creak and look forward. On the other side of the desk sits a big black man in a Judge’s robe.… Oh, dear god.…

  “Where am I?” I whisper rather obviously to my lawyer. She seems shocked with the question. The awkward silence hangs in the air as thick as marmalade. Then the man bursts out laughing.

  He laughs for what must be ten minutes, a hoarse, deep laugh that goes up and down in pitch. I don’t blame him, really. I’d probably laugh at me too. I sit watching him, patient and rather bewildered, a sheepish smile plastered across my face. My lawyer is just as pleasantly confused as I am.

  With some difficulty he finally catches his breath and looks at me. He opens his mouth to say something, then bursts out laughing again.

  * * * *

  Molly didn’t come home at all that night. Trish didn’t prove to be much compan
y either.

  “So, when did you and Molly first meet?” I asked. No response.

  “You go to the same school as Molly?”

  Nothing.

  “So…is school hard?”

  Silence. The entire time she’s looking for something. She’s throwing all sorts of things around, flattening herself on the floor to check under the bed, surfing into the labyrinth women call a closet. When I ask her if I could help and what she’s looking for, she just waves me away, saying, “No, no, I’ve got it. Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  Then Trish left.

  * * * *

  “You’re in your brother Daniel’s custody now. Daniel’s already accepted you as his responsibility. You must be with him at all times, wherever you go, which means you’ll also be staying with him at his place until your court date. Think of it as being under house arrest.”

  “Minus the house.”

  “…Even when you are with your brother, you must stay in Sussex County. So no trips, no leaving the state. You’ll be wearing this tracking bracelet until your court date; if something happens like another fire, for example, the police will be able to track everywhere you’ve been. Don’t bother trying to get it off; even if you try to break it, it’ll automatically send a signal straight to the police, giving them your exact location.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You will also have to attend sessions with Dr. Bandos twice a week until your court date. Do not miss these appointments.”

  “Got it.”

  “Lastly,”

  When will this end?

  “Lastly, you’ve been ordered to take medication for your schizophrenia—”

  “What?” I yell. I stare angrily at my lawyer who doesn’t seem surprised by my outburst.

  I’m lying back in a blue examination chair, getting the tracking bracelet—this bulky, metallic, indestructible thing—attached to my ankle. If it were my choice, I’d have it put around my wrist, but apparently the police were intent on making the whole experience as uncomfortable as possible. In that regard, they were successful.

  “I don’t take medication—”

  “This is non-negotiable. You’re lucky to even get this much; I didn’t expect for the judge to go so easy on a schizophrenic—”

  “Who’s innocent,” I interject.

  “That’s for the jury to decide.”

  What she says stops my train of thought.

  “You don’t believe I’m innocent?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  That answer isn’t good enough for me. She recognizes my discontent.

  “I don’t think you intended to do anything wrong. I disagree with the prosecution; I don’t think you were planning to kill anyone,” she adds too quickly.

  “But you think I’m the one who blew up the house?”

  She takes a breath and shrugs.

  “I’m not taking medication.”

  “Les—”

  “Think of a color.”

  “What?”

  Orange. I’ll remember that.

  * * * *

  Molly woke me up the next morning. I remember our morning together so clearly because it was the first time Molly’s ever woken up before me in her life. We ate breakfast at a little diner near her apartment. There she told me everything and more about what school was like and how great it was to live on her own with a fun roommate.

  “I met Trish,” I said while she was sipping her cup of coffee. She choked and spit it out like a spray all over my face.

  “Sorry! Sorry.… Too hot.… When did you meet Trish?”

  “Last night,” I answered, wiping my face off with a napkin, a little confused. “She was looking for you.”

  Molly was looking very intense.

  “Why? Did she want to tell me something, or.… What? What did she want?”

  “I don’t know; she was looking around for something. I’m guessing she wanted to ask you if you’ve seen whatever it was, she didn’t tell me.”

  “Hmm. Well, that makes sense, I guess. She’s staying with her mother right now…still moving things into the apartment.”

  “She did leave—”

  “Yeah, she was probably looking for a key or something.…”

  The conversation died out. Then, abruptly,

  “Did you meet Derek? Danny’s new boyfriend?”

  “No, actually, I haven’t even seen Danny yet.”

  “Oh. Well, Trish is Derek’s friend. I met her through Derek, actually—she needed someplace to live for a while. Danny told Derek I had a free room in the apartment, voilà. You really should meet him; he’s eager to talk with you about New York City and theatre.…”

  * * * *

  Danny was waiting for me just outside the room. He burst out laughing when he caught sight of the bracelet.

  “Because after all, you are just so dangerous!” he says pointing to it.

  “Well, I think it looks stylish,” I joke. My lawyer walks up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

  “Your first appointment with Dr. Bandos is tomorrow at noon. This is her card; it has the address on it. Danny doesn’t need to stay; he can drop you off and pick you up afterward. Other than that, though, don’t go anywhere without him.”

  “Yes, okay, I’ve got it—”

  “And Les,” She leans close to my ear and her voice is soft when she says “Take your medication.”

  Danny and I watch her leave in silence. She even walks with authority. When she exits, she holds the door open for someone.

  “Oh shit,” I think out loud as my parents walk through the door. I grab Danny and surprise myself with my frustration.

  “You told them?!”

  “What? No, no, I didn’t, I swear!”

  “I’m sorry!” I hear and turn to see my brother Mark running in, panting to keep up with my parents. My mother closes the gap between us at an alarming speed.

  “WHAT HAPPENED?!” She demands of me. Danny and I look at each other, unsure where to begin. I look past my mother to shout, “I hate you!” at Mark.

  “Leslie, you come with me this minute!”

  “Actually, I have to go with Danny—”

  “Danny can drive by himself. Get in the car.”

  “Well, legally, I have to go with Danny.… I’m under his custody.”

  “What?”

  Danny points to my ankle. My mother sees the bracelet and squeals.

  “Oh my.… What…? What did you…?”

  “Oh hey…nice bracelet,” my father says, having just caught up with my mother.

  “What’s going on, are you okay?”

  “They locked him up in a mental institution last night, Mom,” Mark sneaks in. I can’t tell if he’s trying to help me or destroy me. My mother gasps. Her eyes turn as big as saucers and she grabs me in a deadly, suffocating hug.

  * * * *

  “I miss you,” Jenny said on the other side of the phone which seemed just too far away.

  “I miss you, too,” I tell her back. “I’m actually pretty lonely here.”

  “I wish I was there!” she moans. “I love your sister.”

  “Yeah, well you’re not missing out. She has so many classes, I hardly ever see her. She says hi, by the way.”

  “Hi!”

  “Jenny, she can’t hear you.”

  “Well, give her the phone.”

  “She’s not here…hence, ‘I hardly ever see her’. I’ll tell her—ah, beep, did you hear a beep?”

  “No.”

  “It must be another call on this phone, then. Uh…I’ll call you later?”

  “Sure. Let me know if anything interesting happens. If not, make something up.”

  “Can do. Bye, love you.”

  “Love you.”

  I press buttons on the phone to try and receive the other call. Eventually I hit the right one.

  “Hello?” I shout into the empty line. There’s a moment before I hear a voice.

  “Hello, I’m calling
to update you on your travel plans. Your scheduled flight to Hawaii was overbooked, so we’d like to move you to—”

  “Wait, I’m sorry,” I interrupt the valley girl voice. “I think you mean to be talking to someone else, maybe my sister’s roommate. Who are you looking for?”

  “Oh, sorry. Who is this?”

  “My name’s Leslie Adams. My sister lives here with her roommate. Who did you want to speak to?”

  “Sir, could I…credit card…name, Molly Adams…moved to…be in?” the line starts to break up. I ask for the woman to repeat the question but the line goes dead.

  * * * *

  “What happened?”

  “Would you like the cliff notes version, or the long version?”

  My parents don’t look amused. Mark and Danny sit on either side of me. They look at me and I feel like we’re kids again. Since I’m the oldest and calmest, it’s always been up to me to get us out of trouble.

  “I haven’t exercised in a while, I saw some things that weren’t there, and I happened to end up at a house that just happened to explode.”

  “Just happened to…what? Are you…? You expect us to believe that?” my mother growls.

  “It’s true, you can ask Jimmy!”

  “Who’s Jimmy?”

  “This kid—”

  “I was told you had a gun on you? Why, and where the hell did you get a gun?”

  “It wasn’t like I went out and bought a gun; it was Jimmy’s.”

  “Jimmy who? Who is Jimmy?! This ‘Jimmy,’ is he real?”

  Well, that was a good question. For a while I was very unsure of that myself. Jimmy didn’t seem real. His exciting stories were unreal, and the way he’d appear where and when you least expected didn’t make sense. He also knew things. He knew how to hotwire a car and pick locks. He also seemed to know every aspect of a person’s life after only one meeting. More importantly, he knew what I was thinking most of the time—that itself was enough to convince me he was imaginary. It turns out he just happens to make incredible guesses. I decided he must be real when I discovered he couldn’t care less if I thought he was imaginary or not. I’ll get back to that shortly.

  We somehow managed to escape our parents by claiming Danny had to go to work and wherever Danny goes, I must follow.