“Well,” the young teacher looks apologetic. “You can certainly talk to him, it’s not that, but while they’re here they can’t leave the building. They have to wait here for their escort back to their unit. So you guys could go over there—” she points to an empty table off to the side “—if you want. That’d be cool.”
Art teachers are all flower children. That’s in a rule book somewhere. All art teachers must look as if they’ve just stepped off Haight-Ashbury circa 1968.
“Great. Now, I know this sounds weird, but he’s not expecting me, so could you come over and let him know it’s okay to talk with me?”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Thanks. By the way, I’m Isabel.”
“Nice to meet you, Isabel.” Her face lights up like a dandelion. “I’m Sunshine.”
Peter is painting. Other children are talking but he is silent.
“Peter?” He does not look up. “Peter, I’m Isabel. I’ve tried to talk to you a couple of times. Is it okay if I paint with you for a minute?”
Sunshine smiles and floats away.
No response from Peter. Isabel picks up a brush and dips it into the yellow paint. She starts to paint a huge yellow circle.
“Peter, I’m going to be straight with you.” Isabel takes a firmer tone. “I don’t know why it is, but I have to talk to you, I have to. So you can just go on painting and pretending you can’t hear me, but I’m going to talk to you.” Though he has not looked up, Peter’s brush has stopped moving along the paper.
“I don’t know what your story is,” Isabel begins. “I don’t know why you’re here…and I don’t need to know. That’s your business. But there’s something about you that reminds me of myself when I was your age.”
His brush is still. He is listening.
“Did you know that when I was your age I did everything I could to avoid anthills, to make sure no one stepped on them? My brothers would step on them and I could literally feel them suffocating under the pavement. I could hear them shrieking for help, I swore I could. I still make sure I step around them. I saw you the other day, I saw you watching out for them, too. That’s when I decided I had to talk to you.”
Peter’s head slowly, ever so slowly, moves in an upward direction.
He’s going to look at me!
“You know, I used to feel everyone’s pain. Animals, insects, people…anyone who was hurt, I could feel it in here.” Isabel hugs herself, showing him how deeply she felt. Then she pauses and listens to her own words. “And it made me sad all the time.
“But I’ve realized…” What? What have I realized? “I’ve realized that if I do that maybe I can’t feel my own pain. I walk around worrying that I’ve upset someone, let someone down, made someone mad at me, stepped on someone’s anthill…you know? I can’t take on everyone else’s pain. The ants can take care of themselves, is what I’m saying. Let’s face it, they’ve been here long before us and they’ll survive longer than us…”
He’s looking up! Keep going.
“…so we have to concentrate on ourselves. On keeping some huge giant from stepping on us. Does that make sense?”
Peter’s head slowly bobs in agreement.
“Just help yourself, Peter. Don’t worry about the ants.” Isabel remembers her mother’s words. “Just help yourself. Love yourself as much as you love the animals and the insects and you’ll get better. You’ll get out of this place. I know you can do it. You can get out of here.”
Then something strange happens. Something strange and beautiful. Peter lifts his small head and smiles at her.
She strokes his tiny head and hugs him. Hugs him completely.
She holds him for a moment and then releases him.
Without saying anything, Isabel stands up and walks out the door. “Bye, Sunshine.” She smiles as she says the name.
“Have a great day,” Sunshine answers, really meaning it.
Isabel looks back at her friend. Peter is standing motionless, watching her go.
Isabel steps out into the sunlight.
Sixty-One
“Where’s my basket?” Casey calls to Isabel after shutting her car door. “By the way, I’m assuming I should lock it, right? Then again I’ve been trying to talk Michael into a new car for years so I’m gonna leave it open and hope one of your loony friends has the good sense to hot-wire it and go AWOL.”
Isabel laughs and inhales the smell of Casey’s shampoo as she hugs her. “God, I’ve missed you!”
“I’ve missed you, too, kid, but if you don’t let go of me your doctor will start saying things like ‘Isabel, I find it interesting that you chose not to tell me about your homosexual tendencies’ and that’s about the last thing you need right now, girlfriend.”
Isabel links her arm through her friend’s, turning her to the unit.
“Now, remember I told you about how weird it is here,” Isabel warns Casey. “You sure you’re up to this?”
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been scraping macaroni and cheese out from under the stove for the past three years. This is the most exciting thing I’ve done in, like…well, ever. Where’re you taking me? They gonna do a cavity search on me or something? If so, could you make sure it’s a guard who looks like Tom Cruise?”
“Julie, this is my friend, Casey,” Isabel says as she reaches for the clipboard to sign her in. “We’re just going to be out on the lawn.”
Julie looks at Casey’s empty hands and then says that would be fine.
“Why’d she look at my hands? She wondering if I’m single? She’s cute. For a price I could be.”
“I’m insulted. You won’t be my lesbian lover but you’d take Julie, who still wears headbands? She’s checking to make sure you aren’t smuggling in any contraband,” Isabel answers, opening the door to the outside again. “No razor blades, nooses. You know. Just your basic suicide-ward security.”
“Honey, I’m less worried about you now than I am about me,” Casey sighs, settling into a chair. “I almost put my head in the oven yesterday, I swear. Michael’s driving me insane. Come to think of it, I wonder if they have any rooms available here. We could bunk together. Braid each other’s hair. It’d be just like old times.”
Isabel soaks up Casey’s energy as if basking in the sun.
Casey looks at her. “Seriously, you look too thin. Are you eating?”
“Don’t start.” Isabel senses the conversation is turning serious.
“I know, I know. You can take the mom out of the suburbs…” She trails off and surveys the grounds. “Pretty nice digs. How is it really?”
“If I told you you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s fine. It’s good now, actually. I think I’m doing better.”
“You look like shit, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“You really need to form some opinions, Case.”
“What is it? You having trouble sleeping, too?”
“Casey?”
“What, honey?” Casey’s face studies Isabel’s.
“Um. It’s just. Well. I just don’t believe you’re really here. I can’t believe you came to visit me here.”
“You can’t? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“But…but, I dropped the ball for you. I wasn’t there for you when you were having your biopsy.” Isabel stops fighting her guilty tears and lets them roll down her cheeks.
Casey takes her hand. “But you wanted to be.”
“But I wasn’t there for you,” Isabel sniffs.
“Look at me.” Casey squeezes her hand. “You wanted to be.”
Sixty-Two
“Is there anyone who would like to come sit in this chair and start group off tonight?” Larry addresses the group as he paces. “We haven’t done this in a while…have someone actually sit in the chair. Any volunteers tonight or shall I pick someone?”
Ben raises his hand.
“Yes? Ben, would you like to sit here?” Larry motions to the chair.
“Um, no. Actually I was
wondering why we aren’t starting with introductions? We haven’t done that in a while, either, and I was just wondering why. I like that part of group. Why can’t we start that way?”
“Ben, we all know each other now so it’s not necessary. We usually go around the group if there’s a newcomer. I hear that you enjoy it so maybe we can do it once in a while. Why don’t we quickly go around the room and say our names. Why don’t you start?”
“Hi, my name is Ben,” he says with pride.
“I’m Melanie,” “I’m Isabel,” “Regina,” “Cindy.” Sukanya does not introduce herself.
“Okay, good. Who’s in the chair? Who has something they would like to bring up—”
“Larry?” Regina squeaks and then clears her throat to begin again. “I have something I want to bring up with the group.”
“Come on down.” Larry’s Bob Barker imitation embarrasses Isabel.
“It’s about Keisha,” Regina says.
Isabel sits bolt upright and blurts out, “What about Keisha?”
Larry seems interested, too. “Go ahead, Regina.”
“I want the group to know that she’s doing well. I don’t know if anyone knew this or not but Keisha was facing some, ah, legal problems when she left here. She’s overcome those problems and is doing really well now. It’s not talking out of school to tell the group this since she’s not in our group anymore, right?”
“It’s okay to let the group know about Keisha’s good fortune outside of the hospital,” Larry answers. “It’s always good to hear about progress toward wellness. If anyone wishes to talk further to Regina about Keisha, why don’t you all do that after group. Who’d like to go next? Melanie?”
As Melanie gets up to sit in the chair, Isabel’s mind races with thoughts of Keisha.
She checks her watch.
God! Time is dragging by. This is going to take forever.
“Elwin’s at his wit’s end with me…” Melanie is crying.
Yeah, yeah, yeah…and your parents-in-law hate you…get some new material Melanie.
“…then my mother-in-law told me I wasn’t good enough for her son,” Melanie continues.
Isabel looks at her watch again.
It’s only been ten minutes. Will this ever end?
“…and what’s so weird about the mattresses is that I cannot believe it’s taken me this long to see that the nurses have it in for me,” Melanie sobs.
“Regina? Could I talk to you for a minute about Keisha?” Isabel is so eager for the rest of Keisha’s story she practically tackles Regina on the way out of group.
“Sure,” Regina says as she allows herself to be led toward the smoking porch, even though she does not smoke. Isabel knows it is selfish, but she is dying for a cigarette.
“It’s great news, isn’t it?” Regina asks politely while Isabel hunches over the wall lighter.
“Yeah,” Isabel says through her teeth, still trying to light up. “Now, back up and tell me everything.”
Regina hesitates. “How much do you know about what was going on with her when she left here?”
“I was there when they arrested her, Regina,” Isabel replies impatiently. “I know about her nephew.”
Regina is relieved. “Okay. Well, my husband’s a cop and he told me about this because he’d seen Keisha here when he visited and knew I was friendly with her. You know how she was accused of killing her nephew after she was raped—”
“Yeah? What happened?”
“I guess her lawyer was really good and got all this evidence together that showed that the guys who raped Keisha were the ones that killed the baby. My husband says they left their fingerprints all over everything and that the cops who arrested Keisha in the first place were incompetent assholes, if you’ll excuse the expression.” Regina looks embarrassed. “My husband has the dirtiest mouth—working on the job, like he does,” she explains.
“So it didn’t have to go to trial, then?” Isabel looks off into the field as she thinks about how relieved Keisha’s mother must have been.
“Yeah. They dismissed the charges and the guys who raped her are now being charged with murder, too. I guess what goes around comes around, huh?”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Isabel feels a wave of longing. “Your husband hasn’t, by any chance, talked to her, has he?”
“Oh, no. No, he was just keeping track of the case for my benefit. He wasn’t part of that investigation.”
“Maybe I should call her,” Isabel ventures, looking for guidance from Regina.
“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Regina says. “You should call her. You could get her phone number from the nurses, I bet. Sometimes they’re weird about giving that stuff out, but I bet they’d do it for you.”
“Why would they do it for me and not for someone else?” Isabel is confused by Regina’s comment.
“You’re not like everybody else, Isabel,” Regina says, blushing slightly. “The nurses’ll give you Keisha’s number because you can be trusted. You’re normal.”
Isabel’s skin tingles at the compliment.
“There’s no such thing as normal, Regina,” she says, believing it for the first time.
“Yeah, well, you’re as close to it as they come,” Regina answers as she rises to return to her room.
Isabel feels a rush of gratitude for this innocent pronouncement. She feels like hugging the shy Regina but knows she will not. She had had little to do with Regina and knows nothing about her. So she calls out to her instead.
“Thank you, Regina.”
In the doorway Regina turns back and their eyes lock.
“Thank you for everything,” Isabel says.
Regina turns and the door shuts behind her. Isabel puts out her cigarette and walks out into the field to enjoy the last minutes of twilight.
Sixty-Three
“I keep thinking about Alex and the stuff he used to say to me,” Isabel tells Dr. Seidler the next morning. “It’s weird. Here I am getting ready to go in for this really important meeting at ANN and all I can do is hear Alex’s voice in my head. You’d think I’d be more concerned with my career at this point.”
“Let’s look at that.” Dr. Seidler crosses her legs and settles herself more comfortably. “For starters, what exactly have you been hearing Alex say?”
“All that stuff about how I didn’t deserve the job I had before this one—the reporting job I lost? I think I told you about that. That’s what’s going through my head, over and over. Him telling me I deserved to be fired.”
“Interesting,” Dr. Seidler said. “Do you have any idea why this, of all the things Alex said to you, would be the thing that’s getting a lot of play in your mind?”
“I don’t know,” Isabel said. “I can’t figure it out.”
“Might it be because you’re feeling anxious about the ANN meeting, which is—as you described it to me, and correct me if I’m wrong—concerning the possible loss of your job. That, I would imagine, calls up all sorts of feelings in you like dread, sadness, even a little relief. But maybe Alex’s words reflect what you are feeling about yourself right now.”
Isabel gives it thought.
“I could be wrong, of course. This is only a theory,” Dr. Seidler continues. “But I do remember you talking about how low your self-esteem was when you met him, so maybe you felt there was some truth to what he was saying. It’s hard, in instances like these, to know which comes first, the chicken or the egg. Your self-esteem was low from the abuse you endured with David—so maybe Alex capitalized on that and, with his verbal and physical abuse, made it worse. Or maybe you were feeling a bit better about yourself but Alex’s words and actions knocked you back to feeling bad again. Why do you think you were drawn to such abusive people?”
“I really don’t know. But how does this relate to the stuff I have going on in my head now?”
“I’m not sure. I think, though, you seem to be on a precipice. This is still an unformed thought so bear with me, but I won
der if you don’t know what to think of yourself. After your relationship with David ended you could have gone either way. You could have found someone the opposite of David, who treated you with respect, someone who showed you only love. Instead, though, you went with Alex, who repeated the patterns of abuse. Maybe Alex confirmed your own self-loathing. In other words, maybe Alex finished the job David started.”
“But how come I have been so attracted to this type of guy?”
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t think I do.”
“Let me ask you this, David and Alex—what did they have in common? Besides being hotheaded?”
“Um…”
“Were they intense, would you say?”
“Yes. Very.”
“And your father wasn’t, right? He was intense about his job, no doubt about it. He was even intense about drinking. But about you?”
“Not in the least.”
“Could you have been drawn to that intensity? Could it be that you were craving, starving really, for that kind of attention from a man, since you didn’t get it from your father?”
Silence.
“And now you are again at the end of an abusive relationship and you could go one way or another. You could choose to surround yourself with healthy individuals who respect you, or you could find someone who, just as Alex did, takes advantage of your self-doubt.”
“But I didn’t consciously choose an unhealthy person. Alex seemed like a good, supportive person….”
“Yes, I know. But on some level you had to have seen signs of trouble.”
“You’re saying I brought this on myself?”
“No! I am in no way saying you deserved this, Isabel. No. Instead, what I’m saying is that we all make choices based on how we feel at a certain time. You were unsure of yourself when Alex came along. In essence, he decided for you how to feel about yourself. He is the one who caused the abuse, Isabel…not you. But now you are trying to find yourself once again and it’s very important, at times like these, for you—for everyone—to feel good about yourself, about who you are inside. That will attract good people to you like a magnet. Do you understand?”