by Krystle Able
“Yes,” I hissed out the words.
“We’re fine. Thank you, Courtney,” the doctor told his receptionist.
I didn’t hear her walk away, so I assumed she was still standing outside, waiting for Dr. Neumann to call for help. I didn’t care. I was done talking about my nightmares and people trying to tell me what was real and what wasn’t.
“Sit down,” Dr. Neumann gestured to the couch.
“I’ll stand,” I told him and shoved my hands into the back pockets of my jeans.
“Sit. Down. Now.” His voice was stern.
I looked at him and found that I respected his demeanor more. I gave a slight nod and a smirk and went to sit down on the freshly cleaned couch.
The doctor stared at me for several seconds before he finally began our session again.
“Have you had any other nightmares? Maybe, anything that doesn’t take place at the Manor?” He asked gently.
I wasn’t sure how honest I wanted to keep being with him, but I thought back to my sleeping pills and decided if I told him how horrifying the dreams were, maybe he would give me a refill.
“Yes, most of them take place somewhere else,” I admitted like he wanted even though it was a lie.
“Are the McCourts in them?” he pushed for more information.
“No, just me.”
“And tell me what happens in them,” he pushed again and sat on the edge of his desk.
He grabbed his pencil and notepad again and pushed his glasses up his nose. He was ready to listen and take notes on the fucked up shit that was about to come out of my mouth. I knew he would just use it in his final report to make me stay.
“Just the usual stuff—falling, dying, disappearing, being lost, being trapped.” I lied to him with a shrug of my shoulders.
I couldn’t tell him that in the worst dreams I cowered in the corner, naked, doubled over in hunger pains, no lights, a bucket to piss and shit in where the beautiful four-poster bed should have been. I didn’t want to talk about the dream where someone held my head under ice water until I was seconds away from drowning or the dream where I’m walking through the forest with blood dripping down my arms, and dirt all over my clothes.
I shook my head and took a deep breath.
“Besides, the dreams are probably being brought on by stress and anxiety over my release next week, right?” I told him, hoping that seed would take root and he’d agree.
“Nightmares can be brought on my stress, anxiety, fatigue, and even illness, but you are going to have to acknowledge that the other possibility- that your memories are coming back-could also be very real,” Dr. Neumann suggested.
“We aren’t going through this again,” I told him. “I’ve got one week left Dr. Neumann. One week. I need to get some sleep.”
“Did you find an apartment?” He asked.
Shit. I had forgotten that I was supposed to be apartment shopping. I needed a new address to turn in as a forwarding address for my release.
“I’m still working on it,” I lied.
“Have you considered that maybe you should stay a few more weeks at Lochnar House and get a more concrete plan in place before you are released from Parole and allowed to move out of the house?”
The doctor stood again and faced me. He tapped the notepad against the palm of his other hand and waited for my response.
“Are you saying you’re not going to let me out of Lochnar House?” I sneered.
“No, that’s not what I am saying. If you are going to stay at Lochnar House, it would need to be voluntary. After next week, you’ll have completed the program, and you need continued treatment to stay, which, since you don’t have insurance, you can’t get any more. So, you’re leaving us next week no matter what Ivy.”
This revelation shocked me. I hadn’t expected to find this out, and I was delighted. A huge weight was lifted from my shoulders. I knew I was leaving; now the planning could begin. I would be reuniting with Carter and Ester McCourt in no time.
Chapter Five
“Come on Ivy, it’s time,” the only voice in this place that didn’t make me cringe came from the other side.
Kaitlynn was my sponsor. We met while I was in jail after I found out I would be coming to live at Lochnar House. Everyone needed a sponsor, and I didn’t have one so Dr. Neumann and Dr. Santiago found me one. A volunteer who became the only person I didn’t hate in that small town. She was my age—a few months older, and she left me alone for the most part.
“Okay. I’m coming,” I responded and swiped my hair back into a messy ponytail.
I didn’t understand why they wanted me to put on a show. Everyone at Lochnar knew I was alone, and I didn’t care that they knew. Dr. Santiago’s insistence that we all participate in Family Day was a misguided waste of time. Some of us wanted to be alone. Unless you were Carter, Ester, or John, I couldn’t care less if you supported me or not. I think deep down, Kaitlynn knew that, and it was why she didn’t press the way Barb and the doctors did. I respected her for that at the very least. She knew when she wasn’t wanted.
I opened the door, and Kaitlynn greeted me with a broad smile. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her honey-colored hair hung loosely down her back, secured away from her face with a thick winter headband. She was a genuinely happy person. Very few of those exist you know, but all you had to do was look into her eyes, and know she was happy. She radiated sunshine and happiness. I was glad I didn’t have to be around her more than once a month when sponsors were invited to come on group outings. I was even gladder; this was the last time I was ever going to see her.
“How are you?” she asked quietly as we approached the stairs.
“I’m great,” I answered and gestured for her to go ahead of me.
“That’s good to hear. You’re moving on next week, right?”
Kaitlynn went ahead of me down the stairs, and I dipped my hand into the large tote bag she struggled to carry over her shoulder as she went down the first two steps. I slipped it back out as I stepped behind her, bringing her chapstick, a pen, and her card holder out. I smiled, pleased with my haul, and slipped the pen into my ponytail holder. The cardholder I stuck in my back pocket, and the chapstick I swiped across my mouth before dropping it back into her tote bag. I didn’t like cherry.
“Yup, moving on,” I agreed.
“I’m happy for you.”
Of course, she was.
“Thanks,” was my only response.
We reached the bottom of the stairs, and I noticed Kaitlynn looking around. Her eyes stopped on Diana, sitting on the sectional with who had to be her mother. The woman reflected the nineteen-year-old, just with more wrinkles, silver streaks through the bright blonde hair, a few inches taller, and maybe only fifteen pounds heavier. The apple obviously didn’t fall far from the tree in that family.
“You can go, I’ll hide out over here. Diana needs you much more than I ever will.”
Kaitlynn looked up at me and frowned. Her forehead was scrunched together forming unattractive lines in the middle of her eyes that aged her at least ten years.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I warned her, averting my eyes. “I never asked for a sponsor.”
“I just wanted to let you know that I wished you had let me in while you were here. I don’t feel like I was there for you as well as I could’ve been, and I hope you can find a great support system wherever you’re headed next,” she spoke quietly with tears in her eyes as she grabbed my hand and squeezed it once before dropping it. “You’ve got my phone number, so if you ever need someone to talk to, even after you move out of Lochnar House, just give me a call or text whenever you want,” she offered with a nod before sniffing back her tears and giving me a quick hug.
“Uh, thanks, I guess?”
I was uncomfortable and not sure what to say back to her. My unwillingness to open up had nothing to do with her and everything to do with who she wasn’t. This wasn’t something she had any control over, and her overt display of emotio
n was unwarranted as far as I was concerned, but as I looked around the room, it seemed as though I was the only person not crying or emotional in some way or another.
Kaitlynn touched my arm in goodbye as she drifted away from me and towards Diana, her new project. Seven more days is all that stood between Carter and me. Seven more days and this damn event.
“Where’s your sponsor, Ivy?” Dr. Neumann’s voice startled me as he approached me from behind, and grabbed my shoulder.
“I don’t need one anymore,” I told him as I whirled to face him. “I only got a few days left. You know that.”
“Have you given any consideration to what I recommended about continuing our sessions and staying in Lochnar House?”
“No. I didn’t think about it because we both know I’m leaving. I’m ready to move on, and there’s nothing more our cute little therapy sessions can do for me. I’m tired of you people telling me what my memories should be.”
He snorted, “Cute?”
“Yeah, cute,” I sneered, “You, believing that you can fix me, make me remember, is pretty cute. I’m pretty sure Candace thinks your therapy sessions are pretty cute too, or maybe she was talking about you,” I teased him.
I had seen the way he looked at her, staring at her eyes, flicking to her chin, then slowly down to her breasts, hips, and legs. He tried intentionally to be subtle, but I saw him.
His cheeks flushed pink, but he didn’t react. Instead, he leaned in close so that I could feel his stale, diet-coke laden breath on my ear.
“You’ll be back, Ivy. You can’t escape who you are. We have things to work on, and one more session isn't going to be enough,” he whispered with what seemed like malice on his tongue.
"Well, you're going to have to make do with our last appointment in two days, because I am not coming back, and you already said I would have to leave the house anyway."
Dr. Neumann glared at me and grunted as he walked away quickly towards the front door that Dr. Santiago had just walked through. She was immediately greeted by Sammie, Sammie’s girlfriend and an older woman whom I assumed was a relative. Dr. Neumann joined them and greeted his colleague before checking over his shoulder to see if I was still watching. He adjusted his blazer and stretched his neck. I made him nervous. I smiled at him and turned away to head back upstairs to my room. There was nothing for me there.
“You’ve got to check in with your parole officer in four days. He’s gotta sign off on your release,” Barb interrupted my ascent up the stairs.
I didn’t stop, but I did slow as I climbed each step one at a time.
“I’ll show up at Darrin’s. He doesn’t have to worry, and neither do you. I’ll be out of here soon enough.
She didn’t say another word, but I saw the half smile on her face as she drifted away and grabbed Aleah and Diana, the two newbies, to help her set up the circle for the group session I was definitely not going to attend.
I was confident Dr. Neumann and Barb would have a good report for Darrin, Dr. Neumann had already shown me the letter, but Dr. Santiago was another story. I fingered Dr. Neumann’s watch inside my pocket. I’d be able to pawn next week if he didn’t realize I stole it. I needed a good hiding place for it since my room would be the first place Barb would check when the doctor reports his watch missing.
I pushed open the door to one of the upstairs bathrooms and locked it behind me. I took the yellow-gold- gaudy as hell- watch from my pocket and sat it on the counter. I couldn’t tell the difference between a Rolex and a knock-off, but a pawn shop would easily know if it was real and give me what it was worth. The potted plant next to the toilet would make a great hiding place, so I grabbed a handful of the fake moss and roots and buried the watch underneath the phony fern. I replaced the mossy filling and hoped no one would think to dig through the bathroom decor to look for anything, much less Dr. Neumann’s watch.
“Are you in there, Ivy?” Dr. Santiago’s voice interrupted my plotting with a rap, rap, rap, on the door using just a knuckle.
“Yes, fuck. Can I pee for a second please?”
I heard her bracelets jingle and her heels click as she stepped back away from the door to the bathroom, but I could tell she was still there waiting. I washed my hands in the sink, flushed the toilet for effect, and exited the bathroom where Dr. Santiago was indeed standing with a smile on her face.
“Are you enjoying Family Day?” She asked casually.
“Of course, my favorite day of reintegration,” I responded.
“Look, let’s be real,” the doctor said and let her arms fall to her sides in defeat. “I know you aren’t going to participate today fully, but you don’t have insurance, and the program only covers six months, so you’re out no matter what. I just wanted to let you know, so no one wastes their time. Let’s make the next seven days as easy as possible for everyone,” Doctor Santiago suggested.
Finally, someone saw things my way.
“That sounds like a great plan,” I told her. “I’ll just go take a nap then and skip the whole group kumbaya Barb is setting up downstairs.”
“I’m not going to force you to participate, although I wish you would reconsider. You haven’t made an enemy out of everyone here yet. Use the last week of your stay to make a friend you can rely on wherever you go next,” the doctor suggested.
“I have a family I’m going to find, and that’s all that matters to me. They are all the support I will need,” I insisted.
“Oh yeah? Where’s that family at today, Ivy? Where were they five months ago or while you were in jail?”
“You can’t talk to me like that!” I snapped at her.
“I’m not your therapist anymore, Ivy. This isn’t official. I’m talking to you like a real person right now, and I’m telling you that if you can’t get back to reality, you’re going to keep ending up in places like this or worse,” she warned.
“Or worse? Nothing is worse than jail,” I reminded her.
“You spent three years in a minimum-security women’s prison. Hospitalization for kleptomania in a psychiatric hospital will be much worse than prison, especially if Dr. Neumann adds any other diagnoses to your final paperwork.”
I never considered Dr. Neumann giving me an additional diagnosis, but after his words about continuing our sessions just a few minutes earlier and last week, I was beginning to question whether he would try to keep me here longer, as Dr. Santiago suggested.
"Why would he diagnose me with something else?" I asked.
"Why wouldn't he?" she questioned me back.
"I didn't think we were in therapy doc. Can't I get a straight answer from you for once?"
I was irritated. Dr. Santiago was standing in front of me, being unkind, and for what? Less than a full week left here, and I had been on exceptional behavior for months now. Didn't they appreciate that?
"You exhibit clear signs of several different psychological disorders — narcissistic personality, possibly bipolar, for starters. Not to mention PTSD, which I know you were diagnosed with a few months ago, and maybe even psychosis. If I were your doctor, I would recommend you stay. He has until tomorrow to complete his final recommendation you know," Dr. Santiago warned me.
"He gave me a copy of the letter last week," I told her as she had no idea what she was talking about. "He wants me to continue my sessions, but I don't have to, and there’s no insurance to pay for it. I can still go," I insisted.
"He gave you a letter maybe, but he's given nothing to the parole board. Your file is incomplete; at least it was when I saw it this afternoon."
Dr. Santiago looked at me with a blank expression. She was one of the few people I couldn't read, and I resented her for it. She wasn't my doctor; she was just the group therapy counselor. While her opinion mattered, it was Dr. Neumann whom the board would listen to, and alarm bells were going off in my head. I had been rude to him earlier, and now Dr. Santiago was telling me my future, my being released from this hell hole was uncertain. I needed to get out of Lochnar
House before he had a chance to trap me or send me back to prison, or to one of the psych wards Dr. Santiago was always warning us we could end up in. I'd never escape from one of those places.
I glanced down at the ankle monitor that held me hostage and monitored my comings and goings from the house. If I went anywhere other than the Salvation Army where I was forced to work in the soup kitchen as part of my parole, Dr. Neumann's office and back to the house, an alarm would be set off notifying the police, Barb, and Darrin, my parole officer. I knew the same would happen if I removed it as well. I needed to figure out how I could cut it off and be long gone, away from Lochnar House, in under three minutes. That wasn't going to be easy.
"You know if you run, you'll get caught. You wouldn't be the first to try, and you won't be the last, but it always ends up the same way," Dr. Santiago clicked her tongue, and she finished her lecturing.
"I'm not running. I only got a few days left. I'm definitely not trying to fuck it up" I assured her.
She smirked knowingly and turned to go back down the staircase, her heels clicking away on the laminate flooring. Her hourglass hips swayed as she took the steps one by one and as soon as she was below my line of sight, I darted back into the bathroom and dug up the watch. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but the adrenaline that coursed through my veins demanded I act now. There were plenty enough people to provide a distraction when the police came looking for me.
The doorbell chime to the front door of the halfway house drew my attention, and I opened the bathroom door and leaned over the railing in the hallway to look down below. A grocery delivery was being made. As Barb signed for the delivery, I heard the boy announce there were several bags. I knew in that instant what I needed to do.
I scrambled down the hall to my bedroom, flung open the door and grabbed my purse with the $20 bill, a government-provided cellphone I was given after getting out of jail, a Chapstick, and sticky note with an address written on it. I pulled a sweater over my head, forgoing my large, bulky winter coat and stuffed a pair of gloves into the purse with the Rolex. I didn't have time to pack anything else, and as I heard the delivery boy tell Barb he only had one more bag to grab, I knew it was now or never.