The Ruining

by Anna Collomore

  “Boundaries? What do you mean?”

  “Stop,” he ordered. “Just stop acting so innocent. You know exactly what you’re doing. Look,” he started, “whatever is going on between you and Libby is between the two of you. It’s between the two of you. Do you understand me? Leave me out of it.” His voice had risen to a yell. He was furious. He didn’t understand. He wasn’t going to come back to save me.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Good.”

  And then the line went dead.

  I knelt on the floor, tears streaming down my face. Outside my window, the sun was shining brightly as if nothing at all was wrong. But here, things were black. How could the sun go on shining when Nanny was falling apart? How could the rest of the world keep moving when everything in the yellow room was black and still? There was literally no one left to ask for help. It was a bad feeling, knowing no one cared about Nanny.

  I picked up the phone and dialed the only other number I knew by heart.

  “Mom?” I said when a smoke-congested voice picked up. “Mom, it’s Nanny.”

  “Who is this?” the voice snarled back. It sounded like a bunch of gravel scraping together. “Mom? It’s Nanny. Your daughter.”

  “I don’t know no Nanny,” the voice said. Then the phone went muffled and I heard a voice in the background asking who it was. “Some girl named Nanny,” the gravel-voice said. “Must be a wrong number. Sorry,” the voice said. “No one by the name of ‘Mom’ here. Better check that number you callin’.” Then the line went dead.

  It was my mother’s voice. I was sure of it. It was Dean’s voice in the background. I was sure of it. But I was sure of so many things that had turned out wrong. Why would they pretend they didn’t know me? Why would my own mother do that to me? I wrapped up in my comforter, shivering violently. The only thing to do in times like these was sleep.

  • • •

  “NANNY, DARLING,” said the voice. It was soothing and warm and disembodied. It felt like the way hot chocolate smells, foggy and sugary and warm. “Nanny, wake up. I brought you your dinner.”

  I opened my eyes to a dimly lit room. It look me a minute to be sure my eyes were even open because the light was so dim. I startled when I saw to whom the voice belonged. She held a tray filled with a bowl of soup and a sliced-up pear. There was a glass of orange juice on the tray, and a pill.

  “I just brought you some things, darling. To make you feel better.” I stared at her warily, uncertain whether to trust her kindness.

  “Does this mean I’m allowed out?”

  “Oh, Nanny,” she said as if I were a child being particularly silly. “Come on, darling. We can’t let one little fight spoil things. We’re sisters, after all. You’re family now. Families go through hard times, but we always stick together.” I nodded. I so much wanted to be part of the family.

  “Zoe?” Libby called behind her. “Zoe, come give Nanny a kiss.” Zoe peeked out from behind the door and eased into the room. She looked a little bit shy, which wasn’t normal for her.

  “Hi, Zoes,” I said. “Thanks for coming to see me.”

  “Zoe, give Nanny a kiss,” said Libby. Zoe shook her head vehemently. I couldn’t help it; I let one tear slide down my cheek. “Look, Zoe, look how sad Nanny is. If you give her a kiss, she’ll be all better.” Zoe moved forward and climbed onto my bed, crawling toward me slowly. She was humming, as always, humming “Rockabye Baby” over and over. The closer she got to me, the louder she hummed it, until Libby began to wince.

  “Just give her a kiss,” she said through gritted teeth. “Quit that humming. You’re giving Mommy a headache.” But Zoe kept humming until she came right up next to my cheek. Then she did something unexpected. She sang the words to the song.

  “Wockabye baby on the twee top, when the wind blows, the cwadle will wock.” Then she kissed me on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Zo-zo,” I told her. “Thank you very much.” She stared at me and, her eyes unwavering, climbed back down and wandered out of the room, still humming.

  “I’m sorry,” Libby said with a pained look. “I think she was a little frightened by your . . . outburst.” I nodded, my eyelids already feeling heavy again. There was a ringing in my ears, and Nanny was saying be wary of the soup, but my stomach was growling and so I tuned out her voice.

  “Nanny,” Libby said gently, “I’m sorry I lost control earlier. I’m the grownup here, and I shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me. I want you to know that I’ve thought it over, and I know the best way to get you the help you need.”

  “What?” I asked. “What do I need?”

  “Remember how I asked you to trust me, way back when you first started?” I nodded in response. She’d asked me always to trust her—said she would never lie to me no matter who else did. “Well, now is one of those times you’ll need to put your faith in me, Nanny. Can you do that?” She reached out with one hand and stroked my hair, pushing the matted pieces back from my forehead. Her touch felt so cool and comforting on my hot, feverish face.

  “Yes,” I said. And I really believed it. “Take care of me. I just want someone to care for me.”

  “That’s why I’ve made a decision,” she said in that maple-butter voice. “You need more help than I can give you here, Nanny. You need to go to a place where there are loads of people who can help you. You will be safe, I promise. And we will all visit you until you’re well again.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked. But inside, I had already said yes. It didn’t matter where I went, so long as I wouldn’t have to fight anymore.

  “A very nice hospital called Richmond-Fost. You will have the best care there. We’ll pay for it, Walker and I. And it doesn’t even need to come out of your wages. You’re lucky you have us, Nanny. We have enough money to get you the proper care.”

  “Will I come back to work someday?”

  “Of course, darling. Someday when you’re well.” If there was a lie behind her words, I couldn’t find it. She kept stroking my hair soothingly.

  “I’m not sick,” I protested feebly.

  “You are, Nanny. But it’s not your fault. All the things that happened to you in your life . . . they would make anyone fragile.” She lingered on that last word, fragile, like she wanted me to really feel its implications.

  “I don’t think I’m fragile,” I whispered weakly.

  “But, darling, you are,” she said sweetly. “You’ve been having such a hard time, haven’t you?” Something in her voice made me want to agree with everything she said. I nodded in the direction of her voice, though I’d already leaned back against my pillows and closed my eyes again. Maybe she was right. Maybe I just needed someone to take care of me for a while.

  “Eat this soup,” Libby told me, “and take that Valium. It’ll relax you. Tomorrow, we’ll take care of everything.” She rested the tray on the table next to my bedside and left the room. The door clicked behind her. I was too tired to check whether it was locked, and it didn’t matter anymore anyway. Even if I left, I had nowhere to go. It would be much easier, I thought, for Nanny to take the Valium.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  ZOE AND JACKSON WERE STRAPPED into their car seats, and my overnight bag was packed with the essentials. To hide the scratches on my body, I’d chosen to wear a long-sleeved black T-shirt. At the last minute, I’d grabbed the gorgeous sea-green-and-blue scarf I’d found in the garage and wound it around my neck. I figured Libby wouldn’t notice; she had so many clothes and accessories that it would be impossible to remember them all. The Valium still hadn’t worn off, so I was foggy and shaky as Libby led me from the yellow room out to the car. I felt a brief sense of ecstasy when I left the yellow room, followed immediately by a gaping emptiness. Once you’ve gotten past the thing that’s plaguing you, then what? It occurred to me that I’d gotten so used to being unhappy that I didn’t know how to be happy anymore. Or how not to be alone.

  As I climbed into the car,
I looked up toward Owen’s room. Owen had briefly made me happy. He had infused me with hope. I thought I saw a shadow dart behind the window, and then the curtain drew back slightly. I turned away; I didn’t want to see the girl’s mocking profile again. I slid all the way into the back seat next to Zoe and shut the door behind me, refusing to look back. I wanted to be as close to Zoe as possible before I had to give her up.

  “Everybody ready?” Libby asked cheerfully. I looked at Zoe, and she stared at me with eyes pensive as she hummed around her pruny thumb. I put my own thumb in my mouth and stared back in solidarity. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Libby wince, so I laid my hand on my lap and clasped it in my other.

  Zoe popped her thumb out of her mouth and appraised me seriously. “Thas Mommy’s,” she said with her baby lisp, reaching over to tug at the scarf I’d draped around my neck.

  “I know, sweetie,” I said, glancing at Libby for her reaction. “It was for throwaway, so I borrowed it. I hope you don’t mind,” I said. “It was in all those old boxes, and I forgot to ask.”

  “It’s fine,” Libby replied, frowning.

  Zoe screwed her face up and began to cry—long, gasping sobs similar to the ones that accompanied her nightmares.

  “Quiet, Zoe,” Libby snapped. “She’s just upset that you’re leaving,” she explained. “It’s making her fussy.”

  “No,” Zoe cried out. “No, NO!”

  “Zoe, darling, be quiet.” Libby smiled through gritted teeth, looking back at us through the rearview mirror and offering Nanny a reassuring smile.

  But Nanny wasn’t reassured. Nanny was afraid of going to the hospital and staying there forever. What if Libby never picked her up? She will pick me up, I reassured myself. She loves me. She said we were like sisters. That is what people said when they felt love and care. Nanny had to learn it, the actions that are associated with love—but Libby was teaching her. But what about the scariest thing? What if Nanny never got better?

  I shook my head violently to clear my thoughts. I was increasingly thinking of the two voices in my head, more and more unable to merge them into one again, one whole person who was me. It was getting harder and harder to remember who was Annie and who was Nanny and which one spoke the loudest.

  We reached the big hospital and I climbed out of the car, gripping my bag tightly. The gray cement building was large and imposing. Libby had explained on the way there that Richmond-Fost, the ward where I would be staying, was only part of a bigger hospital. I saw a patient being wheeled into the hospital in a wheelchair. He was gnarled and filthy-looking with scabs on his scalp. I hadn’t thought about that—the kinds of people I would meet. I felt terror reach its hungry claws into me, burrowing deep.

  “Wait,” I said as Libby pulled Jackson from his car seat and locked the car behind her. “What about Zoe?”

  “She’ll be fine there,” she said dismissively. “We’ll only be gone a few minutes. I left the windows in the back cracked, if you’re worried about that.”

  “No,” I said, though I was. “I only want to say goodbye.”

  “I’m not sure a mental hospital is the best place for a little girl,” Libby told me. It felt like a punch in the gut. The words “mental hospital” threatened to rip me apart. Before, I’d pictured it as a happy place to convalesce. Nanny thought it was like a meditation retreat, where the focus would be on clearing our mind. If it was a mental hospital, that meant . . .

  “There will be a lot of very troubled people here, won’t there?” I asked. I felt my body begin to shudder.

  “Don’t worry, darling,” Libby said, popping her sunglasses on and striding toward the building. “You’ll fit right in, I’m sure.”

  “Please,” I called out after her. “Please just let me say goodbye to Zoes.”

  “Of course,” she said finally. She strode over to where I was leaning up against the car and pressed the unlock button. “But make it fast.”

  “Sweetheart,” I said, looking in at my girl. “I’m going to miss you very much.” Zoe’s face was tear-stained. She turned away from me, putting her thumb in her mouth and humming loudly.

  “Nanny, we need to go,” called Libby. “They’re expecting us. And afterward I have a four o’clock meeting with a client that I can’t be late for.”

  “Okay, Zo, we’ve gotta make this quick,” I said. “This is the deal. You’re going to give me a kiss and cut out that humming for a second, and we’ll promise to see each other soon.”

  “Cwadle will fall, down will come baby!” She yelled the last part angrily, her faced flushed. “You’we going to leave me,” she accused. “You won’t come back.”

  “No,” I said softly. “No, sweetheart. I’ll be back, I promise.” But I wasn’t sure. It was starting to feel like it might take me a long time to get well again.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder, nails digging into my shoulder blades.

  “Nanny,” Libby said. “I thought I made myself clear. You’ve had plenty of time for goodbyes. Come with me now.” She pulled me away from the car with more strength than I realized she possessed in her thin body. I looked back at the car as we walked away. Zoe’s eyes barely peeked out over the side where the titanium stopped and the glass of the windows began. She looked so small, so vulnerable.

  • • •

  “YOU NEED TO SIGN HERE, miss,” said a tired-looking receptionist in the lobby of the fourth floor, which was where I’d be staying.

  “Can’t I have a look around first?” Beyond reception was a locked steel door with a narrow window. Through the window I saw an old woman walking slowly down the hall with the help of a metal walker, a trail of something wet oozing from beneath her left foot.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have time for that, Annie.” Libby smiled broadly at the receptionist. “Just sign on the dotted line, and this will all be over.”

  “It’ll all be over,” I repeated faintly. I accepted the pen and watched its tip hover above the line I was about to sign. Phrases leaped out at me from the page: “legal recourse,” “self-harm.” I couldn’t make sense of any of it; the Valium had rendered my brain useless. It was something thick and cloudy. It felt more like matter and less like neural impulses. I tried to read the first few lines in a systematic way, but I could feel Libby’s impatient gaze bearing down on me, and so I signed.

  “I can leave whenever I want, right?” I asked the nurse. She just smiled back as if she felt sorry for me.

  “Can you please let Dr. Clarkson know we’re here?” asked Libby with a broad smile. “He’s expecting us.”

  “You know him?” I asked. “You know one of the doctors?”

  “Only a little,” Libby said. “I decorated his home. I knew enough to contact him to ask about the quality of this hospital. He was very kind. He’s offered to keep an eye on you.”

  “First door on your left,” the receptionist called out, hitting a button next to her glass-encased desk. “But drop your overnight bag in the tray next to the door. We’ll need your scarf, jacket, shoes, and anything in your pockets, too, please. I did as she asked, unwinding the scarf from my neck with regret. It was the one thing that was making me feel normal and beautiful. As I lay it in the tray, carefully folding it next to my other belongings, I heard Libby sigh behind me.

  “Hurry, Annie,” she said with a note of barely concealed impatience in her voice. “What is it with you and that thing? It’s not even that pretty.” As I tucked it next to my overnight bag, I noticed a delicate purple embroidery near the hem of one end: ACE. Adele something—maybe Elizabeth—Cohen. The scarf wasn’t Libby’s at all. That explained a lot. I ran my thumb over the embroidery, feeling more unwilling than ever to part with it, until Libby snatched it from my hands and placed it in the tray.

  “For god’s sake,” she said. “Come on, Annie.” And then the metal doors swung open in front of us. Libby ushered me to the room the receptionist had indicated.

  Dr. Clarkson was a short, slight man with pale skin, only a little ol
der-looking than Libby but already starting to go bald. He looked like the kind of man whose ambitions had never been connected to this reality he now lived. He had a permanent frown-face that lit up only slightly at the sight of Libby. Libby gave him a tense hug.

  “So this is the girl,” he said, appraising me. “Did you give her the Valium?”

  “I did,” she told him, nodding quickly. Dr. Clarkson opened his mouth as if about to say something further, but Libby cut him off. “I should really be going now,” she said. “I have an appointment.”

  “Won’t you stay to talk a moment once she gets settled?” he asked plaintively. “To discuss her case, I mean.”

  “I really can’t,” Libby told him. “But feel free to call Walker if you have any questions.”

  Dr. Clarkson’s face fell. “Very good,” he said, clearing his throat. He finally turned to me and pressed a button on a panel to his left in one smooth motion. “Your name is Nanny, is it?” I looked at Libby, who nodded slightly toward me.

  “Annie,” I said, confused. “My name is Annie.”

  “Very good,” he said again. “Miranda will escort you to your room.” He nodded toward the door, where a woman in pink scrubs was waiting.

  “Well, come on,” she said without smiling.

  “Goodbye, Nanny,” Libby said, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze as I passed. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”

  “But I can leave when I’m better, right? And then I can come back?”

  “We can talk about it when you’re better,” Libby said. “But that won’t be for a long while. You’re in a safe place now. As long as you stay here, everything will be okay.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Everything will be okay.” I was so tired. Maybe it wouldn’t be bad to be taken care of for a while.

  • • •

  “WHATCHOO STARING AT?” my roommate, Millie, asked for the dozenth time. “Whatchoo staring at?” I’d tried looking away, facing the opposite wall, but I’d learned quickly that it didn’t matter where I was really looking. Millie thought I was staring at her all the time. “Don’t tell me you ain’t staring,” she insisted. “I see you stare. I see you stare, girl. You lookin’ like you want something, I don’t have somethin’ for you.”