by Sandra Block
“From Aubrey. She had quite an extensive diary about him. Was pretty obsessed.”
“Right, but how did she know?”
“She wrote something about you throwing up once. And seeing some prenatal vitamins.”
I think back to our visits and hazily recall both instances, though they seemed trivial at the time. And I didn’t notice because I was too busy patting myself on the back over how much I was helping her. Funny to think that she was the one playing me all along, not Sofia. “Maybe she told Sofia?”
“Maybe,” he says with a shrug.
But I know the best way to find out. “Well, I better be going,” I say, standing up gingerly.
“Yeah, me too.” He stands up, too, and stretches with a yawn, his potbelly hanging over his belt. “See you later, Andre.”
“Oh yeah. See you.” Andre looks up, still smiling from something on the page, and I am reminded again of the Facebook photo of the little boy with a million-watt grin, holding his prized comic book in front of the Christmas tree.
* * *
“I never thought I’d say this,” I admit, as we walk around the worn path in the rec yard. She slows down to my hobbling pace. It’s a warmish day for the month, and the leaves are damp at our feet. “But I feel I owe you an apology. And maybe even a thank-you. For saving my life.”
God bless her, Sofia does her best not to gloat. She just keeps walking. “Given our history, I’d say you were entitled to your doubts. But you’re welcome.” A bird alights on a tree. “So I guess we’re even, then?”
“I don’t know about that,” I say with a heavy dose of skepticism. “Considering you tried to kill me twice, and only saved me once.”
“True. But I saved two of you this time.”
We walk a few more paces. “I suppose there’s a certain logic to that.”
“And you did say,” she adds, pressing her advantage, “in the heat of the moment, that you forgave me.”
“Yes.” I kick up some leaves, feeling my Steri-Strips strain again. “And I won’t retract it.”
Sofia snickers at this. “Don’t be too enthusiastic now.”
“Hey, ‘given our history,’” I snipe, “how about we be happy with this for now. Okay?”
“Okay, okay.” Sofia puts up her hands in surrender. “I’m happy.”
“Fine,” I say, sounding like a grumpy little sister after a squabble. “How did you know, by the way?”
“Know what?”
“About…the baby.”
She turns to me with her little smile. “A magician can’t reveal her secrets, you know.”
I shake my head at this one, and we keep walking. “So, are you still going to convert?” I ask. “Now that I’ve sort of forgiven you. Or does that all go by the wayside?”
“Of course not,” she says. “That was for me, not just you.” Sun pokes through a cloud, and Sofia tilts her head back to soak it in. “Like that,” she says.
“Like what?” I ask.
“That. Can you feel it?” Sofia gazes up, squinting in the light.
I look up. “The sun?”
“Yes, the sun.” She looks up to the sky with a smile. “God’s countenance, shining upon us.”
Her facile reference to the blessing disturbs me, and I don’t answer her. I’m not sure whether she’s playing me or not but give her the benefit of the doubt and stay quiet. We walk on in silence, and after some time we are back at the start of the loop.
“I guess this is where I get off,” I say. “Good luck, Sofia.”
“You as well,” she says. “And Tanya.”
“Yes?” I say, chewing back my annoyance at her little nickname for me.
Her mysterious smile creeps back onto her face. “Take care of that baby.”
* * *
I run into Jason in the clinic hallway, just as I’m about to leave. “You back already?”
“No, taking the month off,” I say. “Doctor’s orders.”
Wincing, he points to my neck, to the faded, yellow bruises that make a nice addition to my slash scar. “That looks painful.”
“Looks worse than it feels,” I say, playing it down.
Jason pours some sanitizer on his hands. “Did you hear anything more about psycho Newsboy?”
“Locked up,” I answer, accepting a dab on my palm as well.
“Good.” He gives a definite nod. “Turns out he probably wasn’t even gay. My friend said it was somebody else at Fugazi.” Jason drops his hand sanitizer back in his pocket. “I thought he was too boring to be gay.”
“Interesting worldview,” I return.
“Anyway,” Jason says, leaning against the wall, “should be quite the month with Novaire gone, too.”
“Why, where’s he going?” I ask.
He cocks his head toward me. “You didn’t you hear?”
“No, I didn’t hear.” I grab his arm. “What happened?”
“He got axed.”
“Really?” I ask. “Why? Just for being incompetent?”
“Nope.” A wicked smile sneaks onto his face. “Something even spicier than that.” But then his eyes turn nervous, and he doesn’t say anything more.
“Come on, then,” I goad him. “Don’t hold back.”
He pauses. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”
I give him a look. “Come on, Jason. Out with it.”
“Okay, fine.” He leans in to me and lowers his voice. “Novaire was writing love letters.” He pauses, reading my expression. “To Sofia.”
“He was…what?” I grab a chair to sit down.
“That’s what I meant.” Jason takes a seat next to me. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No. That’s okay. It would have come out anyway. I’d rather it be you who told me.” I think back to Dr. Novaire, how his face lit up while he was talking about Sofia. “That’s just so sad.”
“Sad?” He scoffs. “How about revolting?”
“Were they actually…” I can’t bring myself to say it.
“Who knows? Not something I want to visualize, ever.” He flicks his hand, as if waving off a flea. “He denies it, but either way, the warden found the letters. And coincidentally Nowhere finally decided to take a not-so-early retirement.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Definitely not early enough.” Destiny walks by, and I give her a wave. She does a quick survey of my appearance but is polite enough not to ask me anything. “It makes sense, though,” I say, half to myself. “Why he was so intent on me making up with her. And that stupid project.”
“That was a stupid project,” Jason agrees.
“Maybe he really thought she had changed.” As did I. And she did change, at least a little. Didn’t she?
* * *
After my time at the prison, I decide that I deserve a reward. So I stop by the Coffee Spot for an extra-large decaf soy chai tea. It sounds complicated but it tastes delightful, and I’m quite addicted to the stuff.
Scotty sits down with me for a quick visit. “So you’re still going through with the fellowship, then?”
“Absolutely. Why wouldn’t I?”
He scratches his hair, which I just noticed might be thinning the teeniest bit at the top. “I don’t know. Um, let’s see. A patient tried to stab your baby, and then her crazy boyfriend tried to strangle you?”
“Third time’s the charm,” I say. I take a soothing sip of tea, enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. “Anything new with Kristy, by the way?”
“No.” He looks glumly into the fire, the flames throwing shadows off his face. “I think it’s really over.”
I take another sip. “Sorry, Scotty.”
He sighs. “I guess it’s for the best in the end. As she said, we wanted different things.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I feel bad for my brother—the kind, sweet womanizer with James Dean eyebrows—who now understands how all those other women felt. Romeo finally met his Juliet, and she didn’t take poison or stab herself. She just said they
had different long-range plans. “So, did you return the ring?”
“Nah,” he says, biting at his lip, his eyes downcast. “Not yet.” He picks at a hangnail. “I thought I should tell you. I’m thinking about moving out of Buffalo.”
“What?” I nearly choke on my chai.
“Think about it, Zoe. Nothing’s keeping me here. Mom’s gone. Kristy’s gone.” He throws his hands up, looking about the room. “I can’t stay at the Coffee Spot forever. She was right about that, at least.”
“I suppose.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “We’ll see. I have plenty of time to figure it out.” We sit for a bit longer, and his gaze drops to my stomach. “You know if it’s a boy or girl yet?”
I rub my belly, which is not really rub-worthy just yet. “No. They did an ultrasound in the hospital just to make sure everything was okay, but I was pretty out of it. We’re having an official one tomorrow.” I rub the lemon again, which is now, per pregnantbabes.com, the size of a large navel orange. In response to which Mike asked me, What’s with all the fruit?
“So are you gonna find out?” Scotty asks.
“Mike wants it to be a surprise.” I put down my tea again. “But I think there are enough surprises in life. So maybe.”
Scotty looks away from the fire. “Any names?”
“If it’s a girl, yes,” I say. “We would call her Sarah.” Sarah was our mother’s name.
Scotty nods, a sad smile on his face. “She would have loved being a grandma,” he says.
And I realize my kid brother is growing up.
Chapter Forty-Five
You almost ready to go?” I ask. “I really have to pee.”
Mike tilts his head toward the clock. “The ultrasound’s not for another hour.”
I squirm, feeling a special kind of miserable. My bladder is full, I’m craving coffee, and my Steri-Strips are itchy as hell. “I think I mistimed the whole water thing.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” he asks, fumbling around in his pocket for something. “Maybe that will help.”
“Maybe.” I sit down at our kitchen table. Arthur thinks this might mean food and comes over to sniff my hand. “Let’s talk about something to take my mind off peeing.”
“Niagara Falls?” he jokes.
“Shut up.” I pet Arthur’s puffy back.
“Actually, I do have something that might take your mind off of things.” He pulls something from his pocket, and, as quick as lightning, Arthur snatches it.
“No! Jesus, no!” Mike leaps after him. “Get him,” he yelps.
“What does he have?” I make a halfhearted reach toward him. “Come on, Mike. I’m about to have an accident over here.”
“Something very important,” he says, lurching after Arthur’s collar and just missing.
Arthur runs by me again. “Don’t worry. He ate an entire bag of plastic dreidels last week and he was fine. I kept meaning to put it away.” Arthur is now playing a fun new game of Deke with Mike. “Come on, seriously, just let him have it. I don’t want to be late.”
“No, Zoe, give me one minute.” He finally gets a hold of Arthur and starts sticking his hand in his throat, gagging him.
I stare at him in disbelief. “What on earth are you doing?”
From elbow deep in the dog’s gullet Mike plucks something out, with a look of complete victory. Then he drops down on one knee as Arthur goes in for one more steal and is unceremoniously shoved away.
My body goes loose then, when I see what he’s holding.
“Zoe Goldman. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Taking the slimy ring out of his hand, I realize it looks familiar. “Was this Scotty’s ring?”
Mike turns a shade of red. “I only bought it from him because you said you liked it so much. But we can get a different one if you want. I just didn’t have a lot of time here, so…”
“I can’t believe he didn’t say anything.” I recall his uncomfortable look when I asked about returning the ring, and understand it now. “That sly devil.”
“We could get a different one,” Mike offers.
“No,” I say.
“No?”
“No, don’t get a different one. I love it. Absolutely and completely love it.” And I lean over and kiss him, right by his ear. The way that drives him crazy, good crazy. “And I love you, too, Mike.”
He clears his throat. “So, is that a—”
“Yes,” I answer. “It’s a yes.”
READING GROUP GUIDE
Dear Reader,
Have you ever asked yourself: Who am I?
Some people spend years trying to find themselves, through meditation, pilgrimages, or, like Zoe Goldman, therapy.
The question of self isn’t a simple one for Zoe. As Sofia loves to remind her, Zoe Goldman isn’t even her original name. Her “real” name is Tanya Vallano, which was changed (unbeknownst to her) after she was adopted. And Zoe can be different versions of herself, on and off medication. When she’s off medication, her ADHD and anxiety throw her into self-doubt and disconnected thinking. But she also becomes a more keen observer of life, with an unfiltered view. Which one is the “real” Zoe?
As for her patient Andre, he has multiple selves as well. His diagnosis of schizophrenia literally means “split personality.” Before his mother dies, he is a straight-A chess champion and comics-loving student. With his apparent psychosis, he turns into a delusional, violent prisoner who tries to kill his father and won’t take off his red gloves. His father Abraham also looms large in the book. He may be a congenial, widowed accountant or the devil that Andre sees, full of dangerous lies.
In truth, none of us are who we seem to be. We all wear masks at times, to protect ourselves or to hide our lesser selves. The woman in the secret room feels like her true self only with her beloved Professor. But her true self may just be someone he has manipulated and molded.
Of all the characters, Sofia seems the most straightforward: an obvious psychopath. But as the story develops, even this isn’t clear. She claims to be reformed now, to have found God. In fact, she is asking Zoe—her former nemesis—for forgiveness. Her brother Jack doubts her, but Zoe isn’t so sure. After all, the psychiatric profession exists to help people change. Maybe she should trust Sofia now. Maybe a psychopath really can change.
Who is the real Zoe? Who is the real Andre? Who is the real Sofia?
Who is the real you?
Hopefully, after reading The Secret Room, you will have all the answers…
Happy reading, everyone!
SANDRA BLOCK
READER QUESTIONS
Did you guess the identity of the woman in the secret room? Did you feel sorry for her?
The woman in the secret room has an unhealthy obsession with her teacher, “the Professor.” Have you ever felt that way about someone? Could you understand how she felt?
The concept of a room holds many meanings. There is the physical room, but also rooms within our psyches. Freud might say we have hidden rooms inside our minds that emerge in dreams or unconscious actions. Discuss.
Do you have a physical room that you love, where you feel most yourself?
Aubrey carries physical and emotional scars from her guilt and pain. Do you feel sorry for Aubrey? Do you understand her motivation?
Do you know anyone with ADHD or anxiety? Do Zoe’s struggles seem realistic? Do you think reading fictional accounts can help you understand someone’s real-life struggles?
Do you think someone with Zoe’s mental issues should be practicing psychiatry? Could it make her a more empathetic—and better—psychiatrist?
Andre fights delusions and hallucinations for most of the book. Did you guess that the source of his problems could be physical rather than mental?
Andre talks about “doubles,” and there are multiple characters with dual identities. His father himself has a double. Can you describe some others?
Did you guess who was texting and tormenting Zoe
throughout the book? Do you think this character had a valid reason for this?
Zoe feels guilty and incompetent when her patients keep dying. Have you ever felt this way during your work?
Zoe has a certain “lemon” that she keeps secret during the book. Should she have told Mike about it earlier?
Sofia claims she has changed, that she is trying to follow God and become a better person. Do you believe her? Should Zoe have forgiven her?
Zoe’s brother Scotty has his share of troubles during the book, and in the end considers moving away from Buffalo. Did your siblings ever go through hard times while growing up? Were you able to help them?
Dr. Zoe Goldman is stumped when a young African American girl is found wandering the streets of Buffalo in a catatonic state. And Zoe must take matters into her own hands to track down Jane Doe’s family and solve the mystery before it is too late. Because someone wants to make sure this young girl never remembers.
Please turn the page for an excerpt from
The Girl Without a Name.
Chapter One
We call her Jane, because she can’t tell us her name.
Can’t or won’t, I’m not sure. She lies in a hospital bed, a strangely old expression upon her teenaged face. We don’t know her age either. Twelve, fourteen maybe. A navy-blue hospital blanket sits across her knees in a neat square like a picnic blanket. A picnic in a hospital room, with a stained white ceiling for a sky and faded blue tiles for grass.
Dr. Berringer lifts the patient’s arm, and it stays up, like a human puppet. “What do you think?” he asks.
“Catatonia,” I answer. “Waxy catatonia.”
“Bingo, Dr. Goldman,” he says, his voice encouraging, with just a hint of New Orleans, where he’s from. His voice doesn’t match his face. He looks like a Kennedy, with sandy, wind-blown hair as if he just walked off a sailboat and blue eyes with lashes so long he could be wearing mascara. He is, in a word, handsome. He is also, in a word, married, much to the disappointment of the entire female staff at the Children’s Hospital of Buffalo. Let’s just say the nurses perk up when Dr. Tad Berringer hits the floor.