Cafe Babanussa

by Karen Hill

  Two solitary tears trickled down her mom’s face. “Maybe not, but I can’t help feeling like it has to do in part with me. What can we do for you? What can we bring you?”

  Ruby smiled at her mom and said, “You can bring me some chocolate and some sweets. Werner will know what to pick.”

  Ruby’s father sat down on the edge of her bed. “We’ll be in to visit every day. When you’re better, maybe we can take you out for walks. What do they have you on?”

  “Haldol. It’s an antipsychotic.”

  “Your mother was never on anything like that. Will they put you on lithium?”

  “So far they’re just treating it as one episode, so no lithium.”

  “Hmm,” said her father. “I hope the doctor will agree to talk to us.”

  “I’m sure he will. He’s very pleasant.”

  “How are your roommates?” asked Ruby’s mom.

  “Well, as you can see they’re still sleeping. Not much else to do here. They’re fine. Quite nice, actually.”

  “We brought you a book,” said her father. He tugged at the small bag at his feet and pulled out The Color Purple, by Alice Walker. “Your mother and I both loved this book and we thought you might enjoy it, too. Give you something to do with all that free time you have.”

  Ruby smiled as her father handed her the book and thanked her parents for the gift. “I’m so glad for anything to read.”

  After another thirty minutes, Ruby’s parents got up and said they were leaving but that they’d be back to see her again the next morning. Ruby kissed them both goodbye and waved when they turned before going out the door. She was so happy to have seen them that she started to cry again.

  That afternoon she went to see Dr. Heller for her appointment. She sat down in his office, squirming in her chair, and proceeded to skirt around every direct question he asked her. She avoided his eyes when he spoke to her, looking down at her nails or up at the ceiling, or commenting on paintings hanging on the walls. She remembered Werner telling her not to get caught up in a bunch of psychobabble with therapists there. He didn’t want her to go to the group therapy sessions. Why should she divulge her life history to a bunch of total strangers? Forty minutes later she left the doctor’s office and felt somehow cleansed even though she’d said very little. The old woman was still there, still babbling, still drooling.

  Back in the room, Irina was sitting on the edge of her bed, knees pulled up to her chest, painting her toenails scarlet. Ruby heard water pounding against tiles in the bathroom. Elke was in the shower. A heavy smell of sweat mixed with the damp heat rushing through the cracks of the bathroom door and enveloped the room like a musty old blanket. Ruby could hardly breathe.

  Elke emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Her skin was silky with wetness, and shiny beads of water dripped with rhythmic precision from the tips of her hair. She looked at Ruby and scowled, nodding towards Irina. She whispered, “Can’t you tell her that she should clean herself up? It smells awful in here.”

  Ruby sighed and thought, Why me? She went over to Irina’s bed and sat down. “When is Niko coming?”

  “I dunno. He didn’t call yet. But I’m getting ready just the same.”

  Ruby nodded sympathetically and said, “Yeah, what else is there to do here anyway?” She added, “You know, Irina, if you’re getting ready for him you might want to take a shower before you put on your perfume.”

  “Bah! Bodily smells really bring out the animal in men. Grrrr.”

  Irina’s frank irreverence unsettled Ruby for a second and she shuffled backwards on the bed.

  Irina threw back her head and laughed. “I’ve heard about you North Americans. Always showering, washing your hair every day. Why are you so afraid of your bodies?”

  Ruby stammered, trying to find words to defend herself.

  Irina continued. “Even the Germans with their crazy need to clean, clean, clean. Even they respect the nature of their bodies. Look at her.” She pointed a painted toe conspiratorially at Elke and whispered, “Do you see the fur underneath her arms? Even she knows enough to let nature alone.”

  Ruby couldn’t resist sneaking a look. Elke sat in her underwear on her bed, facing them. Her slim arms were raised, her hands ruffling her still-damp hair with a towel. Tufts of curly blond hair sprouted out from underneath the joint where arm met shoulder.

  “What are you two gawking at!” Elke sputtered. “You’re always up to something.”

  In between gasps of laughter, Irina said, “I’m just giving her a lesson in German Naturalism. I thought you’d be as good a specimen as any.”

  “I don’t know what you two are going on about. But if you’re not going to clean yourself up, you could at least have the courtesy to open the windows.”

  Elke pulled on a bathrobe and pulled the door wide open.

  Irina snorted. “Looks like I’m giving lessons to the wrong person.” She resumed painting her toenails.

  Ruby shook her head and stood up by the windows. Looking down into the verdant colours of the Schlosspark, she watched people thread in and out of the palace and hand-holding couples stroll along the paths. The sight made her feel lonely, then edgy. She left the room and walked down to the front lounge. She hadn’t spent much time there, except when she went for her evening smoke. The chairs were all full. People sat reading, sleeping, smoking. A young man was walking circles around the lounge, moaning loudly. Every few seconds he’d stop, shake his head furiously and throw his hands up in the air, and then continue his circling. His eyes fixed on Ruby a few minutes after she entered the lounge. He stopped pacing and stared at her from across the room, his hands on his hips. He started rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, still staring at her. He stuck his tongue out at her. Ruby felt her legs grow wobbly. She thought, Am I afraid of him?

  She leaned against the wall and looked away. Her eyes rested on a group of women who sat knitting. Click, click, click. The whir of the needles brushing against each other entranced her. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby saw the strange man snake across the room in her direction. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth. Her feet became glued to the floor. She flattened herself against the wall, closed her eyes and tried to will herself back to her room.

  “Blaaagh! Blaaagh! Blaaagh!”

  His gravelly voice blasted into her ears, making them pop. A hot, dank smell of rotten eggs breathed onto her face. Rough, leathery fingers dragged down her cheeks. His slimy tongue spat out at her nose and jabbed into her nostril. Ruby shuddered and squeezed her eyes shut tighter, and balled her fists, pressing them into the wall. Her body froze in fear.

  Someone yelled, “Cut it out, Hans. Stop it right now!” Someone pried him off her. Ruby crumpled to the floor, her arms crushed up against her face.

  “Aiyeeee aaaaaahhhhahahahah . . . !” His laughter turned into screams as the nurses dragged him down the hall into the other wing. A woman knelt down next to Ruby and patted her arm.

  “It’s okay, dearie, he’s gone. He does that to everyone who’s new on the ward. He’s been here forever. Don’t mind him. He’s gone now.”

  Ruby opened her eyes. The woman was still there, still patting her arm. Irina sat next to her. She nodded at the woman and said, “Help me get her up.” Then, whispering in Ruby’s ear, she said, “Let’s get you back to the room.”

  Ruby shuffled down the hall beside Irina, her head hanging down, her arms hanging limp and disjointed at her side. Could that be me? Could that be me? Could that be me? The words echoed endlessly in her mind. She closed her fingers tightly around Irina’s hand.

  She stayed curled up in bed for the rest of the day, not talking to anyone, not eating. My god, she thought, will this never end? Werner came in the evening, but she only opened her eyes long enough to shake her head at him and whisper that she just wanted to sleep. Her lashes fluttered shut. He shook her shoulder gently, but she didn’t respond. His hand rested on hers for a while, his fingers curled up, locking into hers. T
hen they were gone.

  Ruby’s parents came the next day, and they all went to see the doctor first. He told them that he did not intend to put Ruby on lithium, and that the Haldol should do the job well. He explained that it took a while to settle on the correct dose and that Ruby had been having ups and downs, so they had increased the Haldol. She should react quickly enough.

  Ruby spent the next week going for daily walks with her parents in the park. The weather played along, and while there were often clouds in the sky, the sun was never far away. Both her mother and her father tried to cheer her spirits with stories from Ruby’s childhood, gossipy tales of their neighbours and updates of family friends. On their last day of visiting, they brought in a spread of food for Ruby to enjoy, followed by various cakes from the local bakery.

  “Ruby,” her dad said, “I’ve said this over and over again, but I do truly believe that you’re going to be fine. It all takes some time, but you will get better eventually.” Looking at his wife, he continued, “I have some experience in this field already, as you well know. Your mother has always come out of her troubles with flying colours, and you will, too.”

  Ruby’s mother added, “We’ll be expecting a visit from you soon. I never thought I’d be saying this, but you should come home for a while.”

  Ruby’s parents lingered for a final walk in the park and they tried to draw out a plan for her recovery from her.

  Werner visited as usual that evening, but he was not happy with her talk of going home.

  Beady eyes bulged out at her through the darkness. A red tongue darted in and out of her mouth, in and out of her ears, flicking, hissing, flicking. Ruby lay still, her body pressed into the mattress. Slithering around her belly, he slunk down between her legs and invaded her, thrusting in and out. Ruby felt hot waves flush over her tummy. Her pelvis contracted with the involuntary orgasm that was rushing over her. She heard him laugh: “Aiyeeee ha ha ha ha!”

  Ruby slammed her eyes shut and pounded against the bed. The thud of her fists on the mattress reverberated through her head. Werner’s words exploded into her, flung themselves out at her, wrapping around her, tightening, choking, strangling. Why do you people have to wear such stupid hats why i don’t care if you’re black i don’t think you should ride a bike why the fuck would you go to a demonstration did you wear a balaclava why do you always blame it on me you don’t know what to do with yourself why don’t you ever listen to me close the blinds before you turn on the light these tree huggers here are fools think if they plant a tree it will change the world do you think your parents are the only ones who suffered because of their race the world’s fucked why have children why is his english so bad if he’s from ghana louis jordan not ellington that’s the real stuff you can’t leave don’t you see it’s you not me you’re getting fat what does it matter whether you’re black or white what does it matter . . .

  Ruby was panting. Her fingers flailed back and forth over her crotch. A thick, sticky wetness streamed out of her. She looked down and saw a head protruding out of her. She groaned and pushed. A tiny baby’s body thudded dully on the floor. Ruby screamed. It had Werner’s face. She reached down to touch it. It was cold, lifeless. Another voice. My people, my people, my people, my people. The rhythm of the words pounded like a drum in her ears. Ruby pulled her knees to her chest and rocked herself to the rhythm of the words that pounded like a drum in her ears.

  When she opened her eyes the next morning, she saw Irina propped up on her elbows, her chin resting in her hands, staring at her.

  “Jeez, you sure know how to have yourself some fun,” she said, winking at her. “But I still think I could teach you a trick or two.”

  Ruby winced and pulled the sheets up over head. Irina’s voice trilled through the stuffy air.

  “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Everybody does it. I just happened to be awake at the same time. But you were so caught up with yourself you didn’t even notice.”

  Ruby wept silently under the sheets. Irina was quiet. Elke sat up in her bed and reached over to pat her arm. “There, there,” she whispered. “You know what she’s like.”

  Dr. Heller came in to speak with her. He explained quietly that they were increasing her dose of Haldol because of her outbursts. Ruby rolled away from him and refused to answer any of his questions. He left her alone. Then he came back, as if as an afterthought. He suggested that Ruby join one of the therapy groups. She shook her head silently. He persisted. “If you don’t want to go to group therapy, that’s okay. But we have a hospital policy. You have to try something.”

  Ruby mumbled that she wasn’t interested in making ceramic bowls or ashtrays. Dr. Heller said, “Well, we have music therapy. Why don’t you try that?”

  Ruby was too tired to put him off. “Okay, okay. I suppose I’ll be able to sing my way out of here, then?”

  Dr. Heller laughed and said, “That’s the spirit.”

  Lunch came and went. Nobody talked. But Ruby heard Irina mumble into her pillow, “He’s not coming back, is he? Niko’s not coming back.”

  Ruby caught her breath. It was true. Niko hadn’t come back since his first visit. Ruby got out of her bed, went over to Irina and knelt on the floor beside her bed. Her hand reached up to touch Irina’s head. She knelt there silently for half an hour, stroking her fingers through her hair.

  Werner came that day with another bunch of blood-red roses. The sickly sweet scent filled the airless room. Ruby was overcome with nausea. Werner spoke to her softly, rubbing her curls, stroking her arm. His eyes smiled lovingly at her. She tried in vain to separate them from the eyes that stalked her at night. As Ruby gazed at him, she realized nothing would ever be the same.

  She didn’t love him anymore, and indeed, despite the fact that he done his best to care for her, she felt intimidated and frightened by him. This was the beginning of the end.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Hello, Dolly

  RUBY SPENT SEVERAL MONTHS RECOVERING AFTER her hospitalization. She managed to keep Werner at bay, much to his dismay, but remained sequestered inside her apartment most of the time. Werner would still come creeping around to her door, calling out for her insistently, but she had changed the lock and refused to open the door. He’d have to get the picture and stop sometime. She hoped that would be soon.

  Her mood had fallen very low; she had decided that this must be the usual trajectory of mental illness—skyrocket, then crash and burn. What goes up must come down. She was still heavily medicated with Haldol, and was going once a month to the doctor’s for a shot. She felt woozy a lot of the time and still suffered from stiffness in her joints, but “the Haldol shuffle”—slumped head, arms hanging like a gorilla, trudging pace—was gone. The language institute had been very generous and sympathetic and had given her another two months off work, so she needn’t worry about that. In fact, there was scarcely any reason to go out at all. Ruby lay in bed all day tossing and turning and sighing. She would only come up from under the blankets when her lungs could no longer stand the closeness under the covers. A deep sadness lapped at her, like little waves pulling her away from her core, setting her adrift in a vast nothingness. Her mood was grim and she remained incommunicado, not wanting to reach out to anyone or have them reach out to her. She had lost her appetite, nibbling on crackers and cheese or a piece of fruit. Sleep was her best friend. She called out to death one day, wishing it would lay its blanket over her and extinguish the fire of life once and for all. But underneath all her blues she could hear her family calling out to her. Be strong! Pull yourself up! Stand tall! “I don’t know how,” she would wail. But she couldn’t drown out their voices as they tried to coax her on.

  After three weeks her mood finally began to lift a little in the evening and she would sit up, maybe even stand and stretch for a moment or two. She managed to sit in the chair in her room, but couldn’t summon the interest to read a book. One evening she tiptoed down the hall and put on a little music—the lilt of the jazz horn made her cry. S
omeone knocked at the door. She knew it wasn’t Werner because he always gave three knocks followed by two quick knocks. It was Emma, who had been trying to reach her for ages. Her friend was stunned at the mess in the house: dishes left standing everywhere, clothes strewn across all the surfaces.

  “Ruby, you can’t go on this way. You have to get some help.”

  “I have my doctor, that’s all I need.”

  “But you don’t even have a therapist or psychiatrist.”

  “I have my friends, like you. Why go to a stranger?”

  “Oh Ruby, don’t you see, I can only help so much. You’re stuck inside your flat, and probably inside your head, too. How long have you been lying around day and night?”

  “A while now. It’s hard to get motivated. It’s like I’m in the slow cycle of the wash, swishing back and forth in the darkness. Sleep brings relief.”

  “You need just as much help as you did before. You let yourself be helped then. Why not now? Just because you’re not having delusions doesn’t mean it’s not just as important.”

  “I know, Emma, I know it’s not right. I just can’t bring myself to do anything about it. I’m like a rock stuck in a cave.”

  “Do me a favour, Ruby—call your parents and let them know what’s going on. Maybe they can come over again.”

  Ruby mulled that over. She hadn’t wanted to bother them again, but Emma was right. She should ask them if they’d be willing to visit again.

  After Emma left, Ruby went back to her routine of wandering the apartment, lying down, wandering some more, jags of crying in between. She eventually picked up a book by de Maupassant. The coarse slang of the Normandy countryside reminded her of Quebec’s joual, which had filled her ears in her university days. It was like comfort food, sustaining her for an evening. She played Marvin Gaye, Otis Redding and Solomon Burke on the stereo, alternating them with familiar jazz standards. Sometimes she cried while listening to the music, imagining herself to be the spurned lover in one of the songs, feeling the splintered blueness of her situation. In a way it all reminded her of home. Especially the jazz.