“Dude!” Hannah drawled, swaying her head and body to one side. “Come on, you’re supposed to say it, too!”
“Dude!” they said in unison.
“No! Like Crush and Squirt, like this!” Hannah said, stressing the surfer dude accent, “Duuuude! Okay, on three. One… two… three!”
“Duuuuude!” they repeated.
“You need practice,” Hannah said and gave her the international so-so sign.
“You like Little Nemo?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Finding Nemo!” she corrected. “Who doesn’t like it? Little Nemo is a stupid movie about a boy who flies around on his bed.”
“Good point, flying beds are as absurd as bedknobs and broomsticks,” agreed Debbie.
“Huh?” said Hannah.
“Never mind. Bad joke. I like Dory.”
“Me too!” said Hannah. She looked at the buttons on Debbie’s blouse and then reconnected her gaze with her. “Anna said you were really scared when you got there.”
“Well, Anna’s right. I thought I was a goner until she pulled me out.”
“Why?”
“I felt like I was completely out of control. Like falling, but more like… being whipped around.”
“I like that feeling, it’s cool!” said Hannah. She settled back on the bed.
Debbie said, “Well, maybe if I go back and forth a few times like you and Anna, I’ll get used to it, but…”
“Shhhh!” Hannah interrupted, directing a warning glance over Debbie’s shoulder. Changing to a demeanor of exaggerated juvenile innocence, she said, “Can we watch SpongeBob later?”
“I don’t see why not,” Debbie said, playing along.
Doctor Farren knocked lightly on the door and entered the room carrying a coffee and an alluring scent of cologne.
“Good morning, Hannah,” he said from within his flawlessly groomed moustache and goatee. “Hello, again, Ms. Gillan.”
“Hello, doctor. Debbie is fine,” she said.
“As is Brad,” he countered. “I hear you’re with Hannah often. Very admirable.” He flashed a million watt smile and turned to Hannah. “How is our little celebrity doing this morning?”
“Okay,” Hannah said cagily.
“No worries, Sweetheart. I’m just here to check on you like yesterday. No shots today. Scout’s honor. Do you mind if I take a look at your feet?”
Hannah smiled timidly and moved to the edge of the bed, taking extra precautions to keep her Johnny tight around her legs. Doctor Farren smiled and removed the bandages. Standing behind the doctor, Debbie waggled her eyebrows at Hannah and mouthed he’s cute. Hannah smiled and restrained a giggle.
“You’re sure looking a lot better than the first time I saw you. I never expected to find such a pretty girl under all that dirt,” Doctor Farren said. He looked questioningly at the soiled dressings, shook his head, and dropped them in a bio-barrel near the bed. “Have you been outside, perhaps climbing a volcano or trudging through the Everglades?”
Hannah and Debbie exchanged a quick glance. Hannah shook her head while Debbie smiled reassuringly and said, “Not yet, but we have done a surprising amount of walking.”
“It concerns me that so much dirt can be lifted from a hospital floor,” Doctor Farren said.
“I like to walk,” Hannah added.
Debbie tried to place the cologne. It was very pleasant. Was it Armani? From behind the doctor, she mimed hugging him. Hannah covered her smile with her hand and Doctor Farren quickly looked at Debbie, who now stood wide-eyed and innocent behind him. She shrugged.
Returning his attention to Hannah, Doctor Farren poked and prodded her feet for a few moments and squeezed the area around the sutures. Hannah flinched mildly, which seemed monumental to Debbie. It was the first time she had witnessed Hannah react to any form of physical pain.
“This is very good, you are healing splendidly. Your doctor did a stellar job stitching up your foot, if I can be so humble as to pat my own back.”
Doctor Farren winked at Hannah and smiled at Debbie, which she returned in spades. Debbie made little kissy motions towards him when he turned back to Hannah, and this time Hannah failed to restrain her giggle.
“I get the feeling I’m missing something here,” Doctor Farren said. He raised an eyebrow, rubbed at his goatee in animated contemplation, and asked with jocular suspicion, “Do I sense a conspiracy here?”
“She’s flirting with you,” Hannah said, and then furtively whispered with enough volume for Debbie to hear her clearly, “I think she likes you.”
Debbie felt as if the heat in her face might blister her. She glared at Hannah who shrugged and smirked defiantly.
“Do you think so?” Doctor Farren asked.
“Uh-huh. She said you’re cute.”
“Really?” he leaned close to Hannah and stage whispered, “Well, I think she’s very pretty. Do you think she’d let me buy her a cup of coffee or a drink some night after work?”
“Maybe you should ask her, not me,” Hannah advised.
“Oh, okay,” said Doctor Farren. “Make me do all the work.” He met Debbie’s eyes and offered an endearingly crooked smile. “Well?”
Thoroughly self-conscious, Debbie smiled and squeaked out a mousy, “Um… okay.”
“Great!” He slipped a business card from his blazer’s inner pocket. “Give me a call when you get your voice back.” He turned back to Hannah, winked and said, “Maybe she should have that checked.”
“You’re the doctor,” Hannah reminded him.
He laughed and said, “Okay, Cupid. I think we can leave the bandages off so the sutures can breathe, but only if you’re in bed. If you’re walking about, you’ll need the stitches bandaged because there’s still a little seepage where cooties can get in. Wear sterile booties and white socks… only white.”
“Doctor?” said Debbie. “Seeing it’s so beautiful outside, I would like to take Hannah for a walk. She’s been cooped up for days and I believe the media pressure is mostly over. Do you feel she’s ready physically?”
“Probably more than you or me, but I’d say give it until tomorrow. After that, have a blast. It’ll be good for her as long as she doesn’t overdo it. Regarding the stitches, cover her foot as I suggested,” he said. “Does she have appropriate clothing?”
“Taken care of,” Debbie said, patting the Kohl’s bag.
“Has Child Services come up with a plan?” Doctor Farren asked. “She’s physically fine and she seems to be responding quite nicely, in my unqualified opinion. Will she be staying under your jurisdiction, or will she become a ward of Nebraska?”
“Not Nebraska!” Hannah nearly yelled. Her eyes narrowed. “I want to stay with Debbie!”
Debbie moved protectively near Hannah, put a consoling hand on her back, and cryptically said to Doctor Farren, “Hannah has superb hearing.”
Patting Hannah’s pale leg, the doctor said, “Understood. Well, I hope you get your every wish.”
He finished with his checkup and made a few notations with a stylus on his Palm Pilot. He offered a farewell wink to both ladies, pointed to Debbie, made the universal “call me’’ phone sign, and then left the room.
“Right now I don’t know whether to growl at you or hug you,” Debbie said. With her arms folded and foot tapping she stared down at Hannah.
“I’ll take the hug,” Hannah said, and Debbie obliged.
“We’re going to get to be with you, right?” Hannah asked. Her concern was a thick presence in the room.
Debbie reminded herself, no promises you can’t keep. She sat near Hannah on the bed and nudged the girl’s chin so she was looking directly at her.
“There is nothing I want more than to have you and Anna with me, but it is a long and hard process that requires a lot of work, money, and time. This is what I can and can’t promise you. I can promise that I will do everything and anything possible for as long as necessary to help you and Anna, and to get you to be with me, but I cannot promise that in the end they w
ill see me as the most suitable caregiver. I need you to understand this, and I know you can because you’ve already proved you are very, very smart. Okay?”
Hannah nodded and her eyes moved to her knitted hands resting on her lap. Large teardrops ran their quick course to her chin.
“But,” Debbie said, and again turned the child’s face to her and wiped the tears away. “If there’s one thing you and Anna have taught me it’s that anything is possible, and I’m counting on this to get us through. So, are you with me?”
Hannah nodded lightly.
“Nope, need more of a confirmation than that,” Debbie said, tickling Hannah gently on the ribs. Hannah emitted a high-pitched squeak.
“A mouse!” said Debbie, tickling a little harder. “Are you with me?”
“Yeah,” Hannah agreed, squirming through a bout of hearty giggles.
“Good! Noggin!” Debbie said, and shared another hearty head-bump.
“Duuude,” they said in unison.
“I bought you some clothes,” Debbie said while opening the Kohl’s bag. “You like Dora the Explorer, right?”
Hannah gave her a horrified look.
“Kidding!” Debbie said. “Big Time Rush for you. Try them on. If they fit properly, then tomorrow we can go for a nice long walk outside.”
“Really?” Hannah perked up.
Debbie agreed and tucked Doctor Farren’s card into the front pocket of her purse.
Tuesday
June 29, 2010
Chapter 22
Worried and frustrated, Debbie tossed and turned for half an hour. She was trying to squeeze in a few more moments of much needed shut-eye, but it wasn’t in the cards. It was 6 a.m. and she had managed only five hours of solid sleep since she had returned from the hospital the evening before, so exhausted that she was dozing on her feet. She was still restless despite the severe sleep deficiency, and what sleep she did get had been infused with grizzly nightmares of Hannah and Anna, skeletal and mummified, being chased endlessly around Hannahwhere by red-eyed wolves.
Debbie sat up and scratched her head. Glancing down at her feet, she had an abrupt sense of being very young, maybe nine or ten. The floor beneath her faded and transformed into unfinished pine planks, worn and stained by years of dirt, spilled oil, and splattered paint.
“Oh, Christ, not again,” she whined.
The light across the floor altered with the creaking of old door hinges, followed by the defeating clack of a padlock, sounding as deadly as a shotgun blast. She sensed a presence there with her. A waft of expensive cologne hung in the air. It was tantalizing and fresh and it only made it more disturbing that this man could smell so appealing. It was like the ultimate insult, and that knowledge turned the cologne into something cloying and menacing. It flooded her sinuses.
Hey, little Red on the bed, said an astonishingly deep voice from somewhere inside of her mind. A large black shoe appeared near her feet. It was highly polished and looked completely out of place on the worn wooden floorboards. Dread flowed over her from her head downward, like hot oil. She wanted to run but knew she couldn’t or she’d get the strap. Besides, he always locked her in the shed, imprisoned until this man—this beast—finished with her.
He…
This was the man who hurt her so badly… who made her feel as if hot knives were stabbing and twisting into her down there. But there was nothing she could do except obey. Terrified, she silently lay back, avoiding any eye contact with the nasty man as he undressed. Instead, she focused on what was tacked on the shed wall. A pretty blonde woman wearing a blue-and-white dress and presenting a generous display of cleavage stared down at her from a St. Pauli Girl poster. As the hideous man repeatedly stabbed her with white-hot agony, the poster girl’s beatific smile offered her a bold lie, promising her that life was great. To the right of the poster a green-and-gold banner boasted St. Edward High School Eagles. She preferred that one and centered her gaze on it until her vision blurred and spun. She latched on and soon she was spinning and soared with the eagle. She was the noble bird, flying miles above the world. She could see the floral fields far below and she was safe to fly out of the reach of all, for who could touch an eagle?
A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trickled to her ear, which only excited the sweaty, depraved fiend more… and then her world erupted. She was launched into an agony so torturous and searing that—despite the anguish she had already known in her short life—she couldn’t fathom its magnitude. It tore into her as if a barbed wire were being dragged through her abdomen. Her scream was more of a shriek—an eagle’s shriek—that escalated higher and higher. The man attempted to cover her mouth, at first with his hand, and then with the pillow.
The pain was unbearable. She knew she was dying, yet dying was okay. Death would be a relief. It would free her from pain and she’d be free to fly forever… if the pain would only go away.
“NO!” Debbie screamed.
She jumped up, slapped her hands over her ears, and bolted into the bathroom. She slammed the door and locked it, then spun, closed, and locked the dining room entry as well. She turned the knob for the hot water and—still wearing her pajamas—lay down in the bathtub. She could still feel him on her and in her and she needed to wash him away. She had to remove his sweat, his spit, his… his… burning inside her. And her blood… there had been so much blood!
“No… no… no… no…” she moaned aloud in a litany of denial. She rocked back and forth in the scorching water, trying to push the images from her head.
Why is this happening to me? What is wrong with me?
Debbie stopped rocking and allowed the slow rise of the water to cover her. She did not move while an arm and leg, then her face, and then her other leg were immersed. Her eyes remained open as her head submerged and the steaming water cauterized her thoughts and insulated her pain. She stayed immersed until her vision wavered and her lungs grieved. When she could no longer hold her breath, she surfaced, pulling a long, ragged breath into her burning lungs. She waited until the water rose above the overflow drain to shut the faucet off with her foot. Rolling onto her back, she lay with only her face above the surface, listening to the muffled hum of the house through the water. She soaked, nearly catatonic, until long after the water turned from hot to cold, and then to frigid, which finally brought her back.
Dripping, shivering, and bewildered, Debbie rose from the tub and stepped onto the shower mat. She removed her drenched pajamas and tossed them into the sink, then pulled a bath towel from the rack to dry off her shivering body. Returning the towel to the rack, she grabbed her robe from a hook on the bathroom door, and wrapped herself in it. She closed the toilet lid and sat down.
“God! I need help as much as Hannah and Anna do,” she thought aloud, but unheard. There was no one to confide in. She had no spouse, lover, parents, siblings, or even a best friend. She was profoundly alone, and although she had always known it—and even preferred it that way since Kenny had left—it was the first time that she had truly felt it. It was the first time it had truly mattered.
She had workmates with whom she coexisted in a cordial enough setting, but the other caseworkers had long ago given up on inviting her out for Friday night drinks or dinners. She had rejected all date requests, and Doctor Farren’s business card would likely go ignored. That she had no one to confide in or to seek comfort from didn’t disturb Debbie as much as the truth that she had no one, period.
It’s better alone. Alone is safe. When you’re alone no one can leave you and no one can harm you or steal your innocence.
She had fared just fine in her self-isolation… until now. She refused to trust anyone. Trust lets you down and leaves you exposed and vulnerable. Yet there was Hannah and Anna, and she trusted them. But they were children and looking to her for help.
Oh, those poor girls, Debbie thought and sighed heavily. Talk about seeking help from the helpless!
Debbie rose and moved to the sink to brush her teeth. She r
isked looking at herself in the mirror again. This time she didn’t look at her physical reflection as a whole but concentrated on her eyes, and into her eyes. For the first time in years, Debbie allowed herself to confront and experience her loneliness and her fear, and most frightening of all, her desire to be needed, accepted, and not abandoned. It was a profound disclosure, a gargantuan weight that she’d been carrying, and a staggering revelation of how much larger than her it was. She felt miniscule in the reality of it. She had never felt this weak or helpless, even after Kenny left, or if she had, she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge it. As huge as Kenny’s departure was, she had put it behind her and walked on, not stopping to look back and not seeing that it had joined forces with all her previous fears and weaknesses. It was still following her, and my, how it had grown!
Debbie concentrated on her pupils, looking deep and trying to focus on the woman inside. All she could see was a little girl… a terrified little red-haired girl trapped in a prison of darkness. Bound by the chains of fear, she was too traumatized to move, feel, or grow… and too weak to escape. Debbie had known the little girl, but now she was a forgotten stranger. She had abandoned her years ago and left her chained in the damp darkness of her past, alone in her cell and ignored until now. Her little redheaded prisoner was finally breaking free.
At the onset of her day, Debbie’s energy had been below sublevel, but after an hour at the gym, a shower, and an energy bar with enough protein in it to cast a cinderblock, she actually felt good.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, again.” Debbie offered Essie a meager smile.
Essie patted her on the back, led her into her office, and motioned her to the loveseat. Essie was uncharacteristically quiet and Debbie couldn’t tell whether she was put out, introspective, or simply tired. Debbie also had a natural inclination to be a bit paranoid.
“So, you feel you had a breakthrough?” asked Essie. “You said you had another vision?”
“Yes, but now I’m pretty sure they’re flashbacks.”
“Me too,” Essie said with a soft smile.
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