Blind with rage, I lunged at him, fingernails on his face.
Dr. Whitney immediately started ringing his cow bell, and two orderlies flew down the hall to our side. I kept lunging no matter how hard the bell was ringing, no matter how loud they called me to stop.
In a few seconds I felt the orderlies pull me off Farbin. I squinted, looked down the hall, and saw Miriam Stony storming towards me.
"Duffino is my patient," I heard myself yelling as they tied me in the straight jacket. "If she talks too soon, it will all go rotten!"
Miriam Stony finished tying, and then came with a long, silver needle in her hand. Misbehave for a moment and there she was.
"Charlotte!" She leaned over me fiercely.
"What did I do now?"
"Obstructing treatment. Causing an uproar. Encouraging patients to dream and lie."
Miriam raised her hand, the long needle pointing at me. She grabbed my arm and rolled up the sleeve.
With all of my strength I tried to push her away, but my strength was gone, in this jacket.
"Obstructing treatment," Miriam called out again. Then she grabbed my arm again and shoved the needle in.
I was used to the feel of these silver needles. First they were cool. Then they stung and burned. Then a soft haze started to fill you, like clouds that had nowhere else to go.
While they were injecting me, Freddy came rushing to my side.
"My bride," he gasped. "My beautiful, young wife! What has happened to my bride?"
Through the clouds that began to invade my mind, I saw Freddy hopping on each foot and then bursting into terrible laughter.
"This will be good for everyone," Miriam declared. "It will teach respect."
In the far distance I heard the cow bell ring another time, and just before I fell into a deeper sleep I looked out and saw Duffino crying hard.
"Don't cry, Duffino," I called out, "don't cry. Don't speak. Don't fill up the empty spaces in their hearts. Not yet.
There is the right time for everything."
My exhausted eyes dropped down to the floor and saw something shining. It was a tiny, metal object someone had left there. I was so weak from the injection that even though I suddenly swooped down for it, it was tremendously hard to pick it up. What was it? I couldn't make out exactly, but it glittered and was sharp.
I reached harder, managed to grasp it, and then threw it across the room fast. It landed with a thud against someone's leg. A red string of blood started to flow.
"The shot is not working," someone called out. Through the mist I saw Miriam Stony's teeth grinning at me. There was death in her eyes, blood on her fingers, and her titties bobbed like clockwork, up and down.
"Insulin for you. Insulin, Charlotte!"
I heard Duffino crying hard.
"Send Charlotte down to Insulin," Dr. Whitney ordered Miriam. "Room 809. Special attention."
"Fine," Miriam snapped.
Then I felt the hard arms of orderlies lift me, and carry me out like a piece of wood. They carried me high over their shoulders, through the long hallway to the elevators.
Once down in Insulin, with my last burst of energy I cried
out to no one at all, "If I am guilty, you are too! We all belong in Insulin together! All of us!"
What could Insulin do to me now? As they wheeled me along to a bed of my own, a small crowd gathered, looking at me. I looked up at the blurry faces, and saw Dr. Belgium, Lannie, and precious Duffino standing among them. Was I dreaming? How did she get here? Did she sneak down the back? Then I saw Dr. Ethan besides her.
"Don't talk yet, Duffino," I called out to her. I did not hear her answer. I heard other things though, old songs, strange rhymes, dim Gregorian chants. Next to Duffino I saw the face of Dorothea when she was young and alive, when she was beautiful. For a moment she almost looked real.
Chapter Sixteen
Time does not pass in Insulin. First thing in the morning they come to give us our shots. This time I did not fight. I held out my arm and let them pierce it full of memories and bad dreams.
Then I slid down into my coma, like a baby sliding down a slide. It wasn't so bad, really. I slid and slid and saw the beautiful face of the mother I never had, who dropped me off on the convent doorsteps three hours after I was born. There she was, in the coma, tall and slender with hair that was tangled, blowing across her face. Her face was pale and she was crying.
"Don't leave me, mamma," I cried to her. But she couldn't help going. "Mamma! Come back!"
"You never saw your mamma, Charlotte." It was the voice of the nurse who had been assigned to me.
"But I see her."
"Not really."
"Oh, yes." How could she know, sitting up there? Down in coma everything was possible. I could even return to the room I was born in, smell the ether, see the eyes of the tired doctor who yanked me out of my mother's belly.
"A girl," he was saying.
My mother screeched.
"Take this baby out of the delivery room," he said gruffly to the nurse. "Clean her up somewhere else."
My mother screeched louder.
"Quiet," he said to my mother. "You know you can't keep her." Outside it was snowing. Early December and I'd arrived!"Pack up the baby now."
Then a doctor placed a blanket over my beautiful mother to stop her from shivering, and my beautiful father who was out in the waiting room heard the screeching and hit the road.
"Accidents happen," the doctor was saying, as they carried me out. "The baby will be fine. The convent's two miles away."
They didn't know I could hear every last word they were saying. There were no accidents, I longed to tell them. And pack me up, all you want. There are angels watching. They will receive me. I'll be back someday to tell it all.
"Charlotte," a voice beside me was calling, tugging on my sleeve. "Charlotte, come back. It's eleven thirty. Here, drink this."
The nurse was shoving a plastic cup of maple syrup down my throat.
"First she won't go down into the coma," the nurse said to an orderly with a gaunt face, "then she stays too long. We can't get her back up."
I opened my eyes and smiled at both of them.
"She's back. What happened? We thought you died."
The next day's coma was not so easy. These comas were not simple matters. They would not go well unless you allowed them to. Some mornings I fought more than others. The next morning I did not want to go down at all.
"Charlotte," my nurse said to me, "you are not letting go today. You fight too much. Try not to struggle so. Give in to your coma. Look how good it was yesterday. You looked so beautiful when you came out. Your face was shining."
This young, blonde nurse with soft eyes spoke to me sympathetically. I wasn't sure who she was exactly and suddenly decided not to give her my usual speech about what a prophet I had become.
"I'll go down, I'll go down," I said.
As I went down into the coma, I saw myself back in the convent in the room I shared with Dorothea. It was small, immaculate, and extremely sparing. Our beds had old, wooden frames. There was a tiny wooden table in the corner, where we could sit and write. Over the table, was a picture of our savior. Besides that was a picture of Mother Mary. I looked at the both of them day and night.
A small wooden chair, in another corner, was hard to sit on. We were not permitted to grow accustomed to pleasure. Pleasure lead to indulgence. It made the heart weaken. We were taught to live simply, in faith.
"I'm not sure I belong in the convent, Dorothea," I used to say to my strange roommate often. "I was left her as a baby. I didn't choose it."
As she had taken a vow of silence, she could not reply. I knew she felt the questions I asked her, day and night, were her cross to bear. She often sat at the table, her head hanging low, in complete silence.
"Tell me why you came here, and chose a vow of silence?" I pursued her day after day.
Sometimes she wrote down answers for me. This particular day sh
e remained silent.
"Write me an answer, so I can understand," I pleaded loudly.
Suddenly she picked up a pen and started writing.
FOR GOD she scrawled on the page, with huge, fierce letters.
I stared at them. "Because you love God so much?"
YES she scrawled again.
"How about people?" I couldn't stop asking.
GOD, GOD, GOD, her letters grew larger, darker, more unwieldy. She spun around in her chair and looked at me as if to beg, get away from me - forever!
"I'm sorry, Dorothea," I backed away. "You make me confused. You make me feel rotten. You make me feel like a lonely slug."
She grabbed her paper and held it up further.
FOR GOD, GOD, GOD, it said.
I ran out of the room, crying.
The scene floated in and out of my mind.
"She's deep in the coma," I heard someone saying, from far away. For a second, I tried to pull myself up, swim to the shore, but another wave of memory splashed over, and I was pulled further out to sea.
I was back in the convent. It was late at night, dark out. I was alone in the room, getting undressed. The door opened, it was Dorothea. I didn't turn around.
She came too close to where I was, and started breathing on my neck.
I screamed.
She turned and ran.
I flew to tell the Mother Superior, who listened and patted my hand.
"There is something wrong with Dorothea," I complained. "She doesn't really love God. She doesn't love people. She wants to hurt me, Mother Superior."
The Mother Superior listened kindly.
"Take me out of her room."
"We all have our cross to bear, Charlotte," the Mother whispered gently. "This is your test. Learn to love her."
"How?"
"Ask Jesus."
"I can't. She wants to harm me."
Mother Superior frowned. "Imagination, Charlotte, dear." She leaned over and patted my hand again. "Pray for guidance and peace of mind. Pray for the absence of foreign thoughts. True guidance always comes."
Dorothea took to scaring me. When I didn't expect it, she'd rush up from behind.
Lord Jesus, I prayed, she has a vow of silence, someday she
could be a saint. But she terrifies me. Help me understand this. Tell me the truth about what's going on.
"The coma is lifting," I heard a voice saying now, closer to my ear.
The scene from the convent tried to float away.
"Lifting, lifting."
The same lovely blonde nurse was now seated at my side.
"Excellent, Charlotte," she seemed pleased, as I opened both eyes. "You're doing beautifully today. Only a little while to go."
My head felt groggy, as I tried to wake from an exceptionally deep sleep that seemed more vivid than the world I woke to.
"Lift your head a little, Charlotte, for a moment or two."
With all my strength, I lifted my head.
She put a cup of something to my mouth to drink.
"Drink."
I drank. My head fell back. I was slightly clearer.
"How is Duffino?" I asked suddenly.
The nurse seemed puzzled. "Who?"
"Duffino."
"I don't know."
The haze in my mind was lifting. I knew where I was and what was going on now.
"Duffino's a patient upstairs. You must have heard about her. The girl with black hair who's always been silent?"
"Try to rest, Charlotte," the nurse said sweetly. She looked at me with simplicity. At that moment I liked her immensely and did not want to drive her away.
"I can't rest," I said, "until I hear about Duffino."
"I'm new here. Is she a good friend of yours?"
"She was," I replied, overwhelmed with sadness. "Duffino and I were going to escape together."
The nurse stopped smiling.
"We were going to climb up over those mountains."
Fear grew in her eyes.
"We all hope for the impossible, don't we?" I said to calm her.
"Not all of us," she replied.
"Who are you, anyway?" She had perked my interest.
"Greta." She seemed shy.
"I heard about you."
I propped myself up on the pillows. It was easier to do it now. I had grown thinner down in Insulin. My body was easier to move. Pretty soon I would even be able to see my toes.
"Don't prop yourself up. You've got to go down into another coma," Greta tried to close my eyes.
"In a few minutes," I answered, "it calms me to talk to someone first. Tell me about you."
"I came here two months ago," Greta offered.
"And you were assigned straight to Insulin?" I was still slurring my speech.
"I have special training."
"I had special training, too," I murmured. "All those years in the convent with Dorothea."
"Who?"
The morning light started to filter through my sleepy eyes. I should have still been deep in my coma. But I was not. I was struggling to stay up. If I listened very hard I could even hear the inmates upstairs, shuffling around, getting ready for breakfast. Of course I started to think about Duffino again.
"I keep thinking about Duffino," I murmured, "I can't stop it at all."
Greta tried to place a cool wash cloth on my forehead, but I pushed her small hand away.
"Obsessions happen, don't they?" She spoke so peacefully. "They're a wonderful way of staying sick." She spoke matter of factly, as though she'd been through this herself many times.
"Sick?" I never thought of myself as sick or Duffino either. "Duffino will get well," I whispered hoarsely.
"Maybe she will," Greta answered quickly. "But how about you?"
Who was this Greta? Talking with her was like breezing through clouds of luminous air.
Just then one of the doctors walked into the room to check on the comas. He quickly came over, tapped Greta on the shoulder, and motioned to his wrist watch.
"It's getting late. Did she have enough Insulin?"
"Probably not."
"I'll give her some more."
I stuck my arm out very far. "Go ahead. Give it to me," I
replied, "I'm ready for anything now."
The needle was long, too long and cool. Inside my mind I started tumbling around.
"Go further," Greta whispered.
"Get out of here," I tried to say, but my tongue was like
cotton, and my mind filled with gauze. Cobwebs came and then parted. Behind each cobweb I saw the face of someone I could have loved once. Where were they now?
I was back inside the convent, sleeping on my small metal bed. The sheets were pulled tight over the mattress and my
horsehair blanket was pulled over my head. The nuns had stopped
chanting and praying to God.
I could not sleep. I could not wake up. Before long Dorothea came and sat at my pillow.
"Charlotte, wake up," she murmured into my hair.
"Go away, Dorothea."
"I'm lonely tonight."
"Stop talking. Your vow of silence!"
"There's no one else I talk to."
"Quiet!"
"Only you can help me."
"How?"
"Come with me. I'll show you."
"Dorothea, go to sleep."
"The holy ghost told me to come to Charlotte."
"I don't want to hear it."
"What we want doesn't matter. We have to hear anyhow."
Cold, immaculate air blew in through the windows, onto us.
"Go to Mother Superior, Dorothea."
"I can't go to her. What does she know?"
I heard myself yell, "Go away Dorothea! Away! How can I take your bad dreams from you?"
"I'm lonely," she whispered, her face too close now. "Help me, Charlotte." Then she grabbed my hand.
Outside it was freezing, snowing for a long time. The entire convent had been buried for awhi
le in the mid-winter snow.
"Help me, Charlotte, or I'm going to die. I want to die."
"Go to someone else!"
Where could she go? We were stuck together at the convent.
And now she was stuck inside my mind.
"Do something to help Dorothea," I cried out into the Insulin vacuum that surrounded me. "Holy Mary, take her terrible pain."
Then sweet gauze covered my mind, and I began to breathe softly, like a brand new child.
"Original sin," I heard in a deep voice. "Get Charlotte fast. We have hard evidence."
Dorothea had been found on the floor. Too silent. She had been slashed right to the bone. Sent back to where she came from. No more suffering for her now.
"We're all in danger," the Priests were yelling. "Get Charlotte here fast!"
I ran to them fast as I was able.
"Father, I did it," I confessed. "I sent her to God. It's
what she wanted. Every night she begged me for it."
Three priests had my arms strapped behind my back.
"She didn't beg you."
"She begged me."
"Dorothea didn't speak."
"She spoke to me. She said, Charlotte, I'm lonely. Help me. What else could I do? I tried everything, Father. Nothing else helped."
"Original sin. Defamation. Dorothea had a vow of silence."
"She broke it."
"A blatant lie."
"I did what she asked for. I sent her to God."
I felt myself yelling in the Insulin Ward. Greta's hand was on my forehead and the cool washcloth was across my entire face.
"Leave me alone. I did it. I did it. With her paper cutter.
Slash. Slash."
"It's over now, Charlotte," Greta said softly.
"And she looked just like Duffino."
"I said it's over."
"It's never over. I did it. I liked it! Slash. Slash. Slash."
** * **
I woke up two hours later, washed out. Exhausted. Depleted.
One of the Insulin doctors stood at my side.
"Very good, Charlotte. Major breakthrough."
"We're proud of you, Charlotte," Greta chimed in.
"For what?"
"You allowed the coma."
"No, I didn't." Suddenly I realized that I told them everything. The room was too white. The light was too piercing. And the spirit of Dorothea hovered over me still.
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