The Anatomy of Perception

by AJ Rose

  “You don’t feel safe now, do you?” she asked sincerely.

  “No,” I whispered. Behind me, Craig climbed into bed again and held me from the other side. “I’m cold, and my dad showed up at the hospital, asking me to help him.” To my embarrassment, tears built behind my eyelids and my voice cracked. “We didn’t hide well enough, Holls. I didn’t get out and be somebody like I said I would.”

  “Hush,” she said firmly, skating her cold fingers over my lips before tucking her fist under her chin. “You’re somebody whether you’re well hidden from him or not. Let the police deal with him, all right?”

  So Craig had told her everything I’d said. “But he found me. What if they never catch him? I could go to Alaska or Singapore or Sydney, Australia, and eventually, he’d show up.”

  “Then what about confronting him?” she asked. “Put him in his place so he knows you can’t be fucked with anymore?”

  I was already shaking my head. “I tried today, Holls. I couldn’t get the words out. He was too scary.”

  “Shhh,” she said, petting my collarbone through my t-shirt. “He’s only an old, drunken mess on a broken-down couch. That’s all he ever was. If you face him, my money’s on you all the way, hon.”

  “Really?” I rasped, suddenly more grateful Holly had seen me through all those rotten, putrid childhood years and into my adulthood, where she could see that yeah, I’d made something of myself, however temporarily.

  “Hell yeah.” She smiled. “You know about the human body, so you can attack most efficiently. You’re younger, and stronger, and sober. He’s only scary because he’s your worst nightmare. So make him not so big in your head.” She poked her index finger into the worry line between my eyebrows.

  “Chief saw him, Holly,” I whispered. “My dirty laundry is all over the hospital now, and I’ll be lucky if I still have a job in the morning.”

  “I think Dr. Noble is more concerned for your health than your position in the residency program, baby,” Craig said from behind me.

  “What did he say?”

  There was a beat of silence between them, but they didn’t hold out on me. “He thinks you’re traumatized and need to talk to someone, and the combination of your dad and the concussion is too much, so you should maybe speak to a counselor who can help with that.” Craig said the words, but Holly gave a minute nod as their meaning washed over me.

  I scoffed. “I’m fine. I just need the police to arrest the fucker and keep him behind bars for the rest of his life.”

  “Well, I know you didn’t sleep,” Craig said softly. “You pretended to, but you didn’t. And the last couple nights you’ve had nightmares that are robbing you of decent rest. I know you’re sleep deprived.”

  “There ya go,” I said, as if that were the answer to all things. “I just need a nap. And to do that, I need to feel safe. I need this apartment to feel impenetrable. Can we do that?”

  “Yeah,” Holly promised. “Just tell us what to do.”

  “I’d like something to cover the windows.” Craig groaned, and my temper flared. “It’s just temporary. I feel like we’re in a microscope with people being able to see in.”

  “It’s not that, babe,” he said. “I couldn’t give a damn about the lighting right now. I just don’t know where we’re going to get window coverings that big quickly enough.”

  Holly snapped her fingers and pointed in the air, struck with inspiration. “Bed sheets. If we rig something to act as a rod, we can pin a bunch of sheets together.”

  Craig breathed hotly beside my ear. “Okay, yeah. I have lots of old sheets I use as drop cloths. I’ll have to look at how to hang them. Maybe just duct tape would work.”

  They made plans over my head to block out the world through the gaping windows, and I drifted in the warmth of Craig’s arms, Holly’s light perfume making me feel as safe as I had since the night I’d left the hospital, knowing that Johnny Dawson would be all right and all I needed to do was find his brother. I had no idea how long they spoke, or how long I existed in a plane of nothing, dissociating from my surroundings in a way that felt heavenly, to get away from the worms and the icicle.

  Holly’s phone chimed, and she sat up to answer it. It was Braden, and she explained where she was and that she couldn’t come home. She didn’t give him much in the way of explanation, other than I was not well and needed her. When she tucked back into me and let me hold her hand, it all seemed squared away. They thought I was asleep after a while, and I let myself float again, between their concerns and their soothing touches. The disconnected feeling came back, and I welcomed it until the world went away again.

  “Absolutely not!” Craig said, incredulity dripping from his voice. “We are not fortifying the balcony, Dane!” He paced in front of the sheet-obscured windows, having worked with Holly for hours to get every inch covered, and all the edges duct-taped to the point where nothing was getting in, not even the sounds of New York during morning rush hour.

  “You think sheets and tape will stop him if he decides to get in that way?”

  “We’re seven floors off the ground!” His voice was becoming higher pitched, though not louder. “The only way he’s coming up to the balcony is if he’s Spiderman, and you said he’s got a bad back. I’m pretty sure he’s the asshole you swear he is, but I doubt he’s got cobweb-shooting hands. We are not booby-trapping the balcony.”

  “What is there to lose?” Holly asked calmly, the only voice of reason in the room, apparently.

  “Oh, I don’t know, depending on what kinds of traps Dane wants, the building’s façade could be damaged. I have to be able to sell this place someday, Holly. I can’t be responsible for this! Not to mention, it’s absurd to want to booby-trap anything. His father is not getting in!”

  “That’s what I said in college. I got complacent then, and I thought he wouldn’t find me when I moved to New York. He did. Every time I go away, he finds me. He’s here now, looking for me. I can’t leave home or he’ll find me, so this is the safest place I can go. If I can’t leave, I have to make sure I’m not somewhere vulnerable. Don’t you understand? He fucking found me again!”

  I knew the hysteria was rising, the panic taking over.

  “I can’t stand this anymore,” Craig snarled at Holly, throwing up his hands. When he dropped to his knees in front of where I sat on the couch, I was surprised by his vehemence. “Dane, this isn’t real. Your father isn’t coming after you.”

  I stared at him, incredulous. “Yes he is. He’s always been coming after me. He was here, Craig. Asking me to hide him from the police.”

  “Chief Noble tested your brain for the concussion worsening because you hallucinated your father at the hospital, baby. You saw him, but no one else did, even though they were standing right there.”

  I shook my head, anger rising like buzzing bees, their fluttering behind my face increasing the pressure in my head, making the worms practically sizzle with glee.

  “Stop,” I told him sternly. “You don’t understand. Holly, tell him how it was.”

  “Dane,” she said pleadingly. “Craig is right. I spoke to the chief this morning. Your scan came back clear, but I asked him a lot of questions. You were yelling at empty air yesterday.”

  “No!” I shouted, jerking to my feet and pointing at her like she was a traitor. “You know how it was growing up with him! This is totally something he would do!”

  “Yes, it is something he would do, Dane.” She was trying to appease me, and I had to get away from her, from both of them. The sheets over the windows didn’t feel like enough. I wanted the balcony gone.

  “Then why don’t you believe me?” I begged for understanding, my eyes filling with desperate tears. “He was here, and he asked me for help.” For some reason, I couldn’t remember why he was running from the cops. I didn’t know anymore what it was that he was supposed to be so panicked about. Then my eyes flew open wide. “Oh my god, he’s the reason I was mugged! He put that kid up to it!” I
paced, running my fingers through my hair. “It makes perfect sense. He knows how desperate people are when they’re sick and have no money. Hell, that was our whole life. He probably shot that kid, then told the brother he could pay for the surgery by stealing my wallet. George is probably pretending to be me right now! Taking over my job!” I grabbed my phone. “I need to call the chief, make sure I still have a job when this is over.”

  Craig put his hands over mine, gentle and warm, but as much as I wanted to sink into his touch, I couldn’t. He wasn’t listening either. His eyes were sad, and he wouldn’t let me dial. He pried the phone from my fingers.

  “Craig,” I whined. “Let me make sure no one is taking over my life to leave me free for the old man to drag off and beat to death. Please!” Tears spilled down my cheeks, and Holly let out a sob behind me, crashing into my back and tightening her arms around my waist so hard I could barely breathe.

  “Dane, listen, baby,” Craig’s voice broke. “I’ll let you call the chief, but I want you to listen.”

  “Okay,” I said, taking a breath, relieved he was finally beginning to believe me.

  “You can ask about your job, but I think you should let Dr. Noble tell you what happened yesterday, what he saw and what those around him have reported.”

  I jerked my hands away. “You got to my boss?” I was stunned, the icicle pushing deeper into my chest, and the cold creeping just a little farther from my core and outward. “You cooked this all up, didn’t you?” The accusation echoed in the loft, and Craig jerked as if slapped. “No,” I said, prying Holly’s arms from me and shoving them away. No one was safe. No one was safe! “You’re not safe!” I shouted. “I can’t trust anybody!”

  “Oh my god, baby, let us call Dr. Noble,” Craig begged, dropping to his knees in front of me, tears streaming down his face. “Please listen to him.”

  “Please,” Holly chimed in.

  I jerked away from them and crouched in the corner between the chair and the wall, on the side that blocked me from the windows and the offending balcony. I couldn’t believe they were this traitorous. I couldn’t believe I had no one in the world. My brother was dead, and my father had gotten to my boyfriend and my childhood best friend.

  I had no one.

  “Son,” the deep voice of Dr. Allen Noble sounded in my ear. “Dr. Perry, I need your attention.” I raised my head, looking for the doctor, but instead of him standing in front of me like I expected, Craig held a phone close to my head, the speaker engaged. I sucked in a breath. “Are you listening, Dane?”

  “Yes,” I said, torn between ingrained obedience to a man who had always been kind to me, and afraid of him, along with everyone else I knew. They were all in on it.

  “I am sending someone to check on you.”

  “I’m fine, sir.” I didn’t acknowledge the cough of disbelief my boyfriend gave. It sounded more like a sob, anyway, which was stupid. Craig never cried. “I’m having a bad day, a bad headache from my concussion, and I had a visit from the cops about my dad. Soon as they handle that situation, I’ll be fine to come back to work.”

  “What day is it, Dane?”

  I scrunched my eyes and fought the worms. “It’s Wednesday, sir. I came home early from my shift yesterday, and have been fighting with my boyfriend ever since. Tell him, Chief. Tell him my dad came to the hospital and you had security hand him over to the police. Why haven’t they called me to tell me he’s not after me anymore?”

  “Son, who is the President?”

  “Of the United States?” I asked, genuinely surprised, then rattling off the answer.

  “Well, that one’s right,” he said softly. “It’s Friday morning, Dane. You’ve been tucked in a corner on the floor of your apartment with your increasingly frantic best friend and boyfriend, and you haven’t spoken for more than a day. You haven’t slept in three, and haven’t eaten in two.”

  “No,” I said, stretching the word in disbelief.

  “Yes. Now I want to talk to you. Can we talk? Man to man?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said immediately. “I have a lot of respect for you, Chief.”

  “I know you do, Perry, and that’s why I think you might listen to me. But understand something, Dane: whether you listen to me today or not, I’m getting you some help. I’m out of wiggle room, and I don’t want to see anything more happen to you that’s preventable. Do you hear me?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t quite understand.”

  “You will.” And he spoke to me. He spoke the words, and I listened with dawning horror, realization sweeping in, shoving the icicle the rest of the way into my heart, deadening my insides. The worms scattered for all corners of my brain, leaving very little in their wake except the chief’s voice and the horrible, cold knowledge he imparted.

  I wasn’t aware when I started to cry.

  “Dane, your father was never here. The police did come, and they did speak to you about your family, but they alerted security of the situation on the way out and left phone numbers to contact them. When you spoke to your father in the hallway right before coming to my office, you were speaking to an hallucination.”

  “He was there, sir,” I said weakly. “I could have reached out and touched him; he was right there.”

  “I know, son,” Chief said, sympathy oozing from his sonorous voice. “I know you believe that. But I was there, Dane. I saw it. And you were speaking to thin air. I believe you believe he was there, but the truth is, you had an episode that could have been related to the brain injury you’ve suffered. Dr. Dearborn tested you, but before he could explain the results, you left. I spoke with Craig to get him up to speed, but by the time he got home to you, it was clear you were pretty sick and getting sicker. He’s been keeping me posted on the circumstances for the last three days. Dane, I’m sending the paramedics for you. You’re coming back here and checking yourself into the psychiatric program. If you don’t do it voluntarily, I will write the order for Craig to do it for you.”

  I looked at my boyfriend and saw his face crumple with such pain I knew it was true. He didn’t look away. I grabbed the hand not gripping the cell phone and held on.

  “It wasn’t real?” I asked, sounding immature and childlike even to my own ears.

  “No, Dane,” Dr. Noble said. “And there’s no medical explanation for why you’re having hallucinogenic episodes. There is, however, another diagnosis that just might fit your situation because of the trauma you suffered during the mugging.”

  “What’s that?” I whispered, dreading anything more he might say. Was I going to die? It sure felt like it.

  “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which is bringing up previous painful events you’ve never dealt with. You’re having flashbacks of your father because you are traumatized, son.”

  My stomach dropped. “What?” I could barely get the word out.

  “Dane, you’re sick, and if you don’t deal with it through psychiatric care, you won’t get better.”

  It felt like doom, a death sentence following me into my safe little corner between the chair and the wall. It felt like the end of everything. Everything from which I’d tried to protect myself and the people I loved. It was that icicle, and I was impaled on it while it melted and spread its cold outward from me, into my relationships. Holly sat at my feet, her hands running up and down my shins, resting her cheek on her knees. At the idea of PTSD, she looked up and her eyes widened, as though she’d received the last piece of a puzzle she’d been working on for years. And her tears spilled in a river as a result.

  Craig’s phone hand shook, but he clasped my hand fiercely. Mouthing the words, “I love you,” he nodded his encouragement.

  “Dane?” Chief Noble asked, patient and understanding. “I’m sending someone to bring you in. They’re aware the possibility of running into your father exists and will have a police escort. If you can trust me for a little longer, I’ll get you here safely. I’ll get you some help.

  I was terrified, and the people I loved se
emed to need me to say yes to this. Thinking back to the previous three days, it seemed impossible how far I’d fallen, and how quickly. But the chief wasn’t off-base about the PTSD. I knew from having had a couple patients in the past diagnosed with it how fast it can swallow a person. Maybe I had it, maybe I didn’t.

  Looking into Craig’s face, his anguished, broken heart clinging to the kind words of a man he didn’t know very well but he knew I looked up to, I couldn’t deny him this. If I was sick, I owed it at least to him to try and get help.

  “My father wasn’t there?” I croaked one last time, just to be sure.

  “No.”

  “Oh god,” I sobbed, dropping my face to my drawn-up knees. “Okay.” That one word wailed from my throat, watery and agonized. I had to give them more, though, show them I believed them. So I sucked in a breath that felt like murder in my lungs, until all the pieces of my cold, frozen heart shattered. “Help me.”

  Present Day

  “What do you mean, he’s moving to California?” Holly demanded, stabbing at the makings of her fajita with more force than necessary. “He gets a new job and he’s just leaving you? No. You have worked too hard for this, Dane. You’ve done everything right.”

  I sighed and cut the side of my fork into my burrito, which was suddenly unappetizing, the savory smells that had made my mouth water as the waiter had set it down too strong now. I kept cutting bite-sized pieces as I tried to order my thoughts.

  “Yeah, he’s leaving. He got a job and he’s taking it. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and if I love him, I should let him go, right? I mean, we’re too fragile for me to invite myself along, even if I got my own place. If everything about New York were true about Oakland, that we lived in separate places, had separate jobs, made our own friends, it would still be too much that I went out there after him.”

  I’d been considering it. It was all I could think of. Holly was right: I’d done everything I was supposed to. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The toddler in my heart, ruled by fear and passion and insecurity, railed against this in a tantrum of epic proportions, but the man I’d become sat and cut and cut and cut my burrito. I wasn’t that toddler, no matter how appealing it would be to throw myself on the floor and just shout at the injustice.