Notice

by Heather Lewis

  Still slow on the uptake, and not used to doing things unless told to, I just stood there. Loomed over her, and I’m sure I looked pretty empty. She grabbed my hand. Pulled me down next to her and ran her fingers through my hair.

  She laughed at me in a way I liked. In a way that was nice to me. She put her arm around my shoulders and I leaned against her. Left off trying to bolster myself, left this to her.

  “How did you wind up in there?” she asked first. And still thinking small scale, I assumed she meant the room.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Practically the minute I got here, that’s where they put me.”

  “But how did you get here?”

  I thought she would know all this. I said, “You’re the one who works here. Don’t they tell you that stuff? Isn’t it all written down?”

  I’d leaned away a little when I said this. I wanted enough distance so I could see her, get a look at her. If anything, she looked hurt.

  “I don’t work here that way,” she said. “I’m not on the staff.”

  This encouraged me some but not entirely. “But still you read that stuff, don’t you? And you’re here.”

  “I don’t see patients. I’m just observing.”

  I didn’t like this last word. Disliked it so much I tried to get up. But she pulled on me and as I said I wasn’t feeling so strong.

  After I’d fallen back beside her, she said, “I don’t think you belong here, okay? I want to help you get out.”

  I considered this carefully in my mind. But my body was on its own, celebrating already and so soon my mind wasn’t really working at all except at trying to control my insides.

  “You mean that?”

  She smiled and nodded, and I found myself holding on to her when up until now she’d been the only one making gestures.

  I liked so much how this felt. She had on a down jacket and I pressed my face into her shoulder and her jacket puffed up around me. I was wearing Gail’s jacket, and the rest of my clothes were left-overs. Somebody’s jeans, a scrub shirt, a sweater Gail’d brought me when it began to get really cold.

  I hadn’t seen my things since they took them off me that first day. I hadn’t thought about my own things until this minute. It was something about having my face pressed into Beth’s coat and knowing it belonged to her. It even smelled like her. This somehow was what started me crying.

  I let myself for a while. Let myself for as long as I could because something in me needed to do this and knew it. Still, pretty soon I choked it off. And when I tried to get up this time, instead of pulling me down, Beth got up herself and then helped me.

  I fished Gail’s pocket for cigarettes. I found her pack pretty fast and pulled one out. A long, skinny Virginia Slim I felt stupid about smoking until I put it in my mouth. It had that nice feel like when you put any cigarette in your mouth after you’ve kissed somebody, after you’ve had anything bigger to suck on.

  There were matches tucked into the cellophane wrapper. I got them out and lit the cigarette. All this while I half expected Beth to stop me. But she didn’t.

  I held the pack out to her. She shook her head. Then we started walking, me with one hand holding the cigarette and the other clutching myself around the middle. Beth had her hands clasped behind her back like it was the best way to keep them still. After a while she shoved them into her coat pockets.

  I went through that cigarette, and then another. We kept walking but not saying anything more. After the second cigarette she held her hand out and I took it. But soon we were walking with our arms around each other and this purring began working its way through my chest to my stomach and then lower.

  I recognized this but pretended I didn’t know from where. Kept this up even when we were back in that little room and she was hugging me goodbye. The hugging was making this same feeling all the stronger and bigger and so it took up more space. Ran up into my chest again, and back down. Then was both places at once and everywhere in between. And when she pulled away, it got stronger still, but then seemed to actually follow her until I staggered some from trying to hold on to it.

  Ten

  The next day Beth took me out walking again. I felt shy for how I’d felt at the end of the day before. Afraid it had showed, while at the same time I wasn’t quite admitting it to myself. It seemed important not to let that thing get in the way again. That those feelings would cause the same kind of trouble they had with Ingrid. That if I could just keep from having them, I’d stay safe.

  This was the problem – having these feelings, and Beth asking me things. It made me think of Ingrid. The one thing about living the way I’d been living – day-to-day with no thought before or beyond – it’d kept me from thinking about Ingrid and her husband, or about the daughter.

  The way I got when Beth asked – and she’d begun asking sooner today, as soon as we sat down against that same log – the way I got let me know that I never stopped thinking about it. That it was always there pulling on me, and me trying not to go under to it.

  Today she asked again how it happened. “How did you get here?” she was saying. “I know what it says, but what happened?”

  “He had me arrested.”

  “Who did?” she asked. And I found myself looking at her, and disbelieving, and then slipping away.

  “Oh, come on,” I said, fighting an urge to get up. Instead I took a pack of cigarettes from Gail’s pocket. A fresh one. A pack I had to open. And halfway through doing this I noticed the shape of the pack, noticed my brand.

  This little thing stopped me because it didn’t seem little at all. And even though Gail had done it, it brought me back closer to Beth.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I thought you’d know. What do you know anyway?”

  “Your file says you were arrested for prostitution. That you became violent while resisting arrest. It says you were sent here by an arrangement with the prosecutor’s office. The admitting doctor put you in seclusion because of a history of violent behavior.”

  “Seclusion? Is that what they call it?”

  I’d gotten up while she was talking but she stayed put. I paced around a little. Finished the one cigarette and started another.

  “That’s not how it happened,” I said. And I looked closely at her. Tried to see what she believed.

  She had the kind of look I remembered from that first time I met her. It’d been the end of the day. Near the end of Gail’s shift and so there hadn’t been much time. Beth hung on to me. And the look on her face right before she did this was like it had happened to her. Or like she felt what I couldn’t feel. Her eyes got so full and her mouth turned soft and then she just pulled me toward her. And though I hadn’t remembered it until now, I’d hung on too. I’d buried myself in her like I’d never have to let go, except I did have to.

  When she’d pulled away from me, she’d had that same look like the one she had now and I found myself sitting back down beside her, huddled against her and I said again, “That’s not how it happened.”

  I said this over and over until it became clear I couldn’t say what should come next and she let me mumble. She said soothing things in between, said again the thing I’d held on to all night. She said she’d get me out.

  A while later she walked me back. Gail met us at the door and told us to hurry because the shift was changing soon and she didn’t want to get caught. She meant by the woman coming in next. No one else noticed what went on with me. That was the point, not to notice. The point was for me to be forgotten.

  Beth came into the room with me. By the way she lingered I remembered it was Friday. Remembered because I was still counting the days and this was our fifth one together.

  We stood there facing each other and over Beth’s shoulder I could see Gail in the doorway. I slipped off her coat. She held out her hand for it and then put it on, but still she stood there. She waited for us and I got that shy feeling back and I felt it off Beth too. I knew I did.

  Beth stood there an ins
tant longer and she took my hands in hers and then she kissed me. She kissed my cheek. She’d never done this before and I couldn’t recover myself. She’d already turned to leave and Gail was talking hurriedly, first to Beth and then me. Talking so fast I lost the first few things she said and after that could only hold on to the cigarette pack she pressed into my hand and the matchbook.

  Those two things got me through the weekend. The nurses mostly left me alone, except around feeding time. Even that went smoother because I seemed able to eat.

  I picked a corner near the door to spend time in. Usually I took one opposite because being further away seemed more private, and it let me see what was coming. But this one meant I could smoke and light my own and be pretty sure of not being spotted.

  And, crouched there, I thought about Beth. Not about the things I probably should have spent time on, like what to tell her about Ingrid, how much I should say. No, what I thought about was her kissing me and the feel I got off her right before, the shyness. I spent a lot of time wondering what this could mean, or what I wanted it to mean.

  I kept it up. I kept it up through the whole weekend. I thought about this moment so much and so long that by the next time I saw her, this one little thing had become so big. Big enough it took up space between us. And as we walked in those woods I felt myself keeping apart from her. Staking actual physical distance. And she seemed to be doing this too. Though I couldn’t be sure.

  When we got to that log and she sat down, I stayed standing. I stood there for so long saying nothing that finally she said, “Did something happen over the weekend?”

  And I wanted to say, “No, just before it.” And I started to. But I stopped and only said, “No.”

  She let this pass. But I could see that if I didn’t sit down she’d come back to it. So that’s what I did. I sat down with her.

  Even so, she said, “Are you sure you’re all right? That things are all right?”

  I wanted to say no. I wanted so much to tell her every single way things weren’t all right, and every way I wasn’t. And mostly I wanted to tell her why.

  But this time I just said, “Yes.” Meaning yes, everything’s fine. Because after all, it seemed relative. Fine as last week. Though I knew I dreaded the coming night. Already I knew I wouldn’t be able to push it away like before. And I didn’t think I could half-sleep through it either.

  This disability seemed to be about Beth. Not anything she’d said but her having kissed me. It interfered with my capacity to sort things, to keep them cordoned off in my head. That was the other thing about the weekend – things had begun to bleed through. They started seeping into each other until they overlapped in a way that was difficult to control, impossible to put away.

  Seeing her again made all this harder and I feared if she touched me some of it would open. That the bleeding and seeping would turn to leaking. That I’d be unable to stop it, and somehow this would give us away. Though I couldn’t be sure what this last thing even meant.

  Soon after I’d sat down she said, “I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking what we should do.”

  She glanced at me after saying this but I kept hidden. I shrugged into Gail’s coat, shrunk into it.

  “There are steps to getting you out and I think we should start on them. First we’ve got to get you out of seclusion. As long as you’re there, there’s no way.”

  Now I was the one looking at her and looking carefully. She believed what she was saying. I could tell that much. She believed it’d be that simple. Just follow the rules and that’s the end of it.

  I wanted to stop her right there, say you don’t understand, you don’t know what’s involved, who’s involved. I couldn’t do it, though. I was afraid if she knew she’d back off. That she’d be safer to me not knowing the risk, not knowing what or who she was up against. That maybe, just maybe, if she didn’t know, it might work. She might pull it off.

  So this brought me to how much did she have to know, and then to how much could I tell. The curious thing was how much I wanted to tell – to tell her all of it. Same as I wanted to tell her what happened to me every weekday night.

  The things stopping me were too hard to make out. Every time I thought I knew what they were and so could face them, they changed form. Then I’d have to re-group, re-evaluate. These things kept me mute. And the single thing running underneath, choking off speech, was his belt around my neck.

  Beth quit talking. I realized she’d noticed how intently I was watching her. When she quieted, I began thinking things, and below that feeling them, and pretty soon my eyes clouded over. Once my eyes glazed, she put her arm around my shoulders and shook me a little. With that, what I’d worked so hard not to feel began running up and down my thighs – nervous and wanting to stop and stay put somewhere.

  “Hey,” she said. “What is it?”

  I started laughing. Not a real friendly thing to do, but I guess that was the point. I wanted to do the exact opposite – cry – or the thing in between, which seemed this moment to be kissing her. Laughing meant I’d taken the coward’s route.

  “I’m sorry.” I managed to say this much and then managed to take her hand.

  “Look,” she said. “I’m going to try and get you out of that box. I don’t think you can handle it in there too much longer.”

  This some way bruised me. It seemed a stupid part of me wanted to prove something dumb. To prove I could take it in there the rest of my life if that was needed. To prove I could take anything. At least I kept shut about this. I didn’t stand up or bluster. At least I kept myself from doing the half dozen or so things I wanted to do.

  We walked back holding hands. Most of the way anyway. As we came into sight of the building she let go and this carried the same shyness or shame that the kiss had. She came into the box with me again. I liked that she’d called it that. That she’d left off using their word for it. A word I didn’t like because it made it sound like some fucking retreat or something. Someplace a nun would go.

  She didn’t stay long, though she had time to. And she stood a little ways back from me instead of right up against me. Her doing this made me realize we didn’t exactly know each other. That she’d come out of nowhere for me and me for her. That we’d gotten in deep with each other, and fast. That we’d gotten there out of nothing but feeling and need. I had with her, anyway.

  I had no way to know anything about her. But still it seemed I did know. Knew that underneath all her command she carried something I’d hooked and was sorry for. Though I wasn’t above using it. I was that desperate for help.

  Of course, seeing it this way was easier than seeing how it was. That was all about what she’d hooked in me and kept pulling at. Whatever that was seemed too messy to name. Like if I let it spread out from my chest, it’d take over my body. It’d maybe get to my mind.

  It was already hard enough to cope in here. I couldn’t contend with something like that. And so instead of letting it up, I pushed it down. I put it into my belly and then lower until it could be all about pressing against her. All about her body. The things I wanted to do to it and do to her, and with her, and have her do to me. But not here. And so we stayed standing in this way that caused problems – a little apart with her holding my hands and her eyes holding mine, and me trying to keep pace until I had to look away.

  Gail saved me. She came to get her coat and I let go of Beth. And then she left. She slipped away while Gail and I talked. She did this without a word, and so left me wondering if she’d ever come back or was she finished? Had she seen some of the same stuff that I had and wanted to get away from it? Or had I maybe just been some way too mean?

  Eleven

  Beth must’ve pulled somebody’s string besides mine because by the end of the week they’d moved me. It was still lockup but that beat the lockbox and so I couldn’t quite complain. This didn’t mean I had company, though. The others on the floor were the lifers. Women so old they’d had actual surgery. Others, a little bit younger,
had the chemical kind, daily.

  This meant you heard the same things over and over. Watched the same shuffling. Except for one woman, a little one, who moved fast and hit her palm with her fist over and over, saying, “Whip, whip. Cut, cut.”

  This was stuff you could no way ask about, but Gail told me some of it. The ones who’d been cut had had it done early – thirteen, twelve. They’d been here ever since. Likewise the ones in their fifties and sixties – once their trouble started they’d never been given the chance to escape it.

  So this wasn’t a place where people got better. This was a holding pattern and these women holdovers. Given my patron, none of this should’ve surprised me. But still it did – the kind of place in old movies. The kind that didn’t exist anymore and so how could any of us? The perfect place to lose someone for ever.

  So this explained what I was doing here. And maybe it explained Beth’s wanting so bad to get me out. These next few weeks she spent coaching me for this. A big moment before some committee of doctors. I hadn’t seen a doctor since I’d landed here so it surprised me to hear them mentioned. Surprised me anyone actually ran this place.

  When the day came, I sat at the foot of a long wooden table and went through the motions. Ten or twelve men I’d never seen in my life asked me ten or twelve different questions. And afterwards, since I’d had no expectations myself, I worried about Beth. About how hard she might’ve hoped. And, too, I worried what might happen now that they’d noticed me.

  Beth had stayed behind with them, so Gail took me back. She sat with me on my bed – at least I had an actual one of those now.

  When Beth came in, she was all red-faced and shaky. She kept saying she didn’t understand. That she couldn’t see why they’d said no. How the reasons they gave didn’t make sense.

  I looked to Gail but she’d already gotten most of the way out the door, so I looked back at Beth. She paced the small room. Kept walking back and forth from the now-closed door to the window. It was open with a cold breeze coming through the metal grate.