barn."
"And?"
"We saw them partying." Mindy laughed. "Partying?"
"That's what it was." Gia snapped. "They had
some weed. Probably got it from some Indian or
something. They were laughing and enjoying
themselves."
"And they had a magazine with pictures of
naked men."
"You're kidding!" Teal said, coming to life, "Does Dr. Foreman know?" Robin asked. "What do you think?" Gia replied.
"You could tell on them," Teal said quickly.
"Or threaten to tell on them."
"Oh, that would be terrific. Get them in trouble
and that way they won't be as hard on us." Gia
mocked.
"Well. I just thought... what do you think.
Phoebe?"
"I think I'd like to make friends with them and
be invited to their bedrooms," I quipped, and held my serious expression just long enough for them all to think I wasn't kidding. Then Gia laughed and the rest
of them joined her.
We were all quiet again.
Teal stared down the gravel road. "I don't care
if it only goes to an Indian store. It goes somewhere,"
she said in a loud whisper.
None of us disagreed. The shadows grew longer
as the sun slid down toward the mountain. Everything
that lived and spent its time in the daylight here surely
gave thanks for the mountains. I thought. Funny, I
realized, how I had never once thought to be grateful
for anything in nature.
Maybe I was not grateful for anything at all.
Maybe that was why I was here.
8
Confession
.
In the days that followed, we were given new
chores, which included learning how to milk cows. We were then made to do that first thing in the morning instead of working in the garden, after we recited our morning chant, of course. Added to the milking of cows came the caring and feeding of the horses. Once again it was Teal who moaned and groaned the most, complaining about her callused hands, the odors, and the hard work. We were truly exhausted when the sun set, but we knew that didn't mean the end of our responsibilities.
Dr. Foreman had given us all passing grades on our schoolwork, but then she added more and more to our assignments as if she was trying to see how much we could accomplish before crying "Uncle!" A new and more efficient and effective spirit of cooperation had been born among us, however, and Gia was smart. Robin commented that she was actually learning faster under Gia's tutoring and better than she had in regular school and I couldn't disagree. To our buddies' chagrin, we actually enjoyed working together. M'Lady One couldn't resist commenting, "Aren't you all turning into nerdy little goody goodies."
No one responded. We just kept working. I was afraid this new spirit of cooperation would be torn apart at the next group therapy session, but we didn't have another like that. Instead, Dr. Foreman began what she described as a new and more personal round of analysis and healing. She called us in one at a time, me being the last. When one of the previous four returned. I looked at her and waited in anticipation, hoping to hear something that might help me when I was summoned to see Dr. Foreman.
However, whoever talked with Dr. Foreman returned in a cocoon built out of painful memories or fears and didn't want to speak. Gia was like that for days afterward, as was Mindy. Teal seemed sadder, more defeated. and Robin angrier. It was as if the invisible bonds that had grown among us were cut again. When it came my turn. I was truly frightened. What powers did she have? What would she do to me?
The afternoon of my appointment. Natani was showing me how to groom a horse he called Wind Song. A quarter horse, he had a short back, muscular chest, and muscular hindquarters. The other girls weren't as interested as I was in horses. and I could see Natani liked that I was, The only time I had ever been close to a real horse before was when I had watched a parade in Atlanta.
Natani was demonstrating how to use the hoof pick and telling me why it was important to remove the buildup of dirt and debris. Longtime exposure to bacteria could cause infections, he said. and stones could eventually cause bruising.
Wind Song was patient and cooperative as though the horse understood what Natani was telling me and doing. When I commented about that, he nodded and said, "He does understand. Not words, but actions. That's how animals speak to each other and haw we speak to them, by what we do, not by what we say.''
"There can be no lies between us then." I muttered. He smiled at me, "Yes. daughter of the sun. yes."
I was afraid when he handed me the pick, but soon I was doing it and Wind Song was just as calm as he was when Natani worked on him. Before I could finish, M'Lady One was at the door of the horse barn.
"Dr. Foreman wants you." she said. "Now!" "Can't I finish this first?"
"No. It's time for your therapy."
Wind Song turned toward her as if he could feel
my nervousness. He bared his teeth. snorted. and shook his head. Natani looked at me hard, but I'm sure it wasn't difficult to see the anxiety in my eyes.
"In here," he said, holding his hand over his heart. "is your hogan. No one can come in there unless you say yes."
"Move it. girl," M'Lady One shouted.
I handed the pick back to Natani and started out.
"He's a crazy old loon." M'Lady One muttered as we walked toward the house. "All that peyote has gone to his head and turned his brain into mashed potatoes. I don't know why Dr. Foreman keeps him here."
"Why are you here? Why do you want to do this rather than be out there with people, having fun, getting on with your life?" I dared ask her.
"Why am I here? It's the least I can do for Dr. Foreman. She's done so much for me. If you don't appreciate her yet, it's because you haven't improved enough. But don't worry," she said. smiling, "you will. She has never failed yet with one of her wards." "Never?"
"Never. It's just a matter of time. Longer for some than others maybe, but just a matter of time, so don't think you're anything special."
"You're improved?" I fired back at her. The smile flew off her face like a frightened bird lifting off a branch.
"Yes. I am." Her eyes were small and cold. "If you think I'm mean now, just imagine what I was and what I can be again if I have to be."
"If that's true." I said, pausing to take off my shoes. "then you've really not changed, have you?"
"Oh, you're so arrogant and smug. You're lucky you're going in there to therapy or I'd have you digging in the cesspool for that remark."
"Is that what you had to do?"
I thought she would get angrier, maybe even come at me, but instead, she smiled. "Worse. Which is what you can look forward to. Phoebe bird. Now get in there, and if you're smart, which you're probably not, you'll keep your wisecracks to yourself and be very, very cooperative."
Holding that cold smile on her lips, she watched me go into the house.
"Go into the office. Phoebe." Dr. Foreman called from the dining room. She was speaking with the cook.
I entered the office, but I didn't sit. Curious about what Gia had told us Dr. Foreman was doing with our case studies. I looked at some of the papers on her desk. That was a mistake, but not because she came in behind me and caught me doing it. It was a mistake because of what I saw.
It was a letter faxed to my uncle Buster and aunt Mae Louise. The letter was from the doctor at the clinic where Mama was being treated.
It began with the words. I'm sorry to inform you...
I should have stopped reading. I should have backed away from the desk and pretended I had not seen the fax. but I didn't. I drew closer and picked it up and read ... that Mrs. Elder passed away last night. We believe her last visitor brought her some bad crack cocaine, not that there is any good crack cocaine, and it had a dramatic and fatal effect to h
er heart. We have turned the information over to the police. Please accept our condolences and contact us concerning Mrs. Eider's remains as soon as possible.
The letter seemed to float out of my fingers. It struck the edge of the desk and fell to the floor.
"Pick that up immediately," I heard Dr. Foreman say. She was standing behind me in the doorway.
I looked at her, then did what she said.
"Who do you think you are searching through papers on my desk?" she asked as she entered.
"I didn't search through papers. I just saw..." I glanced at the paper again. I had a right to look at this anyway, I thought. This is about my mother. I told myself, and then it hit me harder, sharper, like a slap across my face. My father is gone and my mother is dead now, too. Even though Dr. Foreman hovered just behind me. I had to read it again to be sure I hadn't imagined it. Remains? It made it sound like leftovers. Send a doggie bag for what was left of Mrs, Elder,
"Put that down and sit." she commanded. I didn't move. "Sit!" she shouted, pointing at the chair. "Right now."
I put the letter on the desk, went to the hardwood chair she had facing her desk, and sat. She sat behind her desk and looked down at the letter from the clinic. She seemed to be reading it for the first time,
"I was going to tell you about this myself, break it to you in a far more charitable and considerate fashion when I thought you were ready." she said, her voice a little softer.
I wondered if she was telling the truth. The paper had been at the center of her desk and turned so that anyone approaching from the doorway would see it immediately. According to the date on the letter, it had been sent out almost a week ago. How long had she had it? Did she get it the same day my aunt and uncle had? Why hadn't she told me immediately? Was she worried about what the news would do to me? Was she worried it would interfere with her efforts to change me? At the moment I was more curious about that than I was angry.
"How does this information make you feel?" she asked, and sat forward as if any syllable I uttered would be earth-shattering in importance.
I shrugged and looked away. Why did she always keep the window curtains closed in this office? Was she afraid we would find something far more interesting to look at out there? My eyes drifted to the floor. Where was that grate Gia had described? Was anyone listening in on this conversation? Was Posy down there? I heard nothing, not a peep.
"When you've been apart from someone like you have been apart from your mother, news like this"-- she held the paper up--"doesn't seem real. Long-distance death loses its impact. You have to be close up, right there sometimes, to believe it at all.
"But despite the face you're trying to put an. I can see you believe it. Phoebe. Holding it all bottled up inside you won't help and it doesn't make you stronger. It eats at you from within. If anything, it makes you weaker. I'm always telling my clients that, because it's one of the truest things about human nature. you know. Shutting your emotions up, never expressing your feelings, just causes it all to fester and sour, and that ugly degeneration comes out in how they look, how they think, and what they do. It's poison. It's truly as if you were poisoning your own blood."
She sat back. relaxed, "What was the nicest thing, the happiest thing, you remember about your mother?"
"I don't remember anything nice or happy."
"Sure you do. You're just afraid to recall it now, afraid to mention it because that will make you feel sad, and believe me, Phoebe, you're afraid of being sad, afraid of it more than any of the other girls here," she assured me with a wave of her hand toward the door. I said nothing, just stared at the floor. My head felt as if it were full of angry bees.
She rose and walked slowly to the front of her desk, then leaned back against it.
"Think back." she coaxed. "Surely you have good memories of when you were just a little Dirt Think, remember. I want you to try, Phoebe."
"Why? Why do you want me to do that?"
"I want you to feel, to see and understand the most basic human needs in you."
"You're right. I don't want to be afraid and I don't want to be sad. Okay? You're right." Hot tears bubbled under my lower eyelids. "Satisfied?"
"I'm not worried about being right. Phoebe," she said slowly, and smiled. "I have nothing to prove."
I raised my eyebrows skeptically at that and I could see she didn't like it. She stopped smiling, stepped away from the desk, and stood as firmly as a steel pale, her eyes sharp, angry, bearing down on me.
"I'm already a success at what I do. I have the respect of my peers. I have been awarded many honors, and courts, judges, counselors, and other psychiatrists have given me the trust and the responsibility to reshape and save girls like you, so this is not about ego."
"What's it about then?"
"Right now? It's about you. Do you realize"-- she reached back for the letter from the clinic--"that you are really all alone in the world now?"
I tightened the embrace of myself and looked at the closed window curtains.
"Oh. I know you have an uncle and aunt. but I also know you're not fond of them and you do not believe they are very fond of you. You believe they would rather you disappeared. Am I right?"
I didn't answer.
"I said, am I right? Wasn't that in the autobiography you wrote for me on orientation day? Well?"
"Yes."
She nodded. satisfied. "You were correct in your analysis of them. They haven't even called to see how you reacted to the news. I've heard nothing," she said with such vehemence. I thought she was enjoying the pain her words imposed on me. They were like whiplashes, slicing and stinging my weakened wall of protection.
"In this world." she continued, returning to that teacher voice of hers, "someone without any family, without any friends, loses any sense of herself and any reason to go on and do anything with her life. Like it or nat, this is your new home. Phoebe." she said, holding her arms out widely apart.
"We are your new family. I want you to believe that and I want you to trust me, trust that I have your best interests at heart, no matter how hard and severe I might seem to be. We have demons to drive out of you, important changes to make. Just like a surgeon has to cut out a cancer. I have to cut all that out of you. Oh, not with a knife, a scalpel, of course, but with every available technique at my disposal. All I ask is you cooperate and try to help yourself.
"Is that asking for too much?" she followed in a tone so reasonable. all I could do was shake my head.
"Good. I think you're different from the others. Phoebe. and I don't mean the color of your skin or your background or anything like that. I think you have potential. There's more to you and a lot more to save."
She stood there looking at me. I kept my eyes directed at the floor, then I sniffed back my tears and closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Of course she was right about what I was feeling and what I was desperate to avoid. Good memories, happy memories, of Mama were trying to rush in and I was holding the door closed. but I could hear Mama's laughter, catch a glimpse of her in the mirror as she fixed my hair or talked to me about how to make up my eyes like hers. The images were leaking in under the door. These memories weren't memories of the woman I had seen at the clinic after I had run away from my uncle and aunt. These were memories of my mama of long ago when I was still young enough to forgive her for her weaknesses and her failures. when I was still young enough to believe things would be better for us all.
"You want to cry. Phoebe. I can see it. Go on. Have a good cry. There's no shame in that."
I wiped away a fugitive tear quickly and shook my head. She approached me and touched my shoulder. I looked up at her. Should I trust her with my tears? I wondered, Was she sincere? So many cruel things were done to us here. Was she right in doing them? Did we need that? Was it the only thing that would change a girl like Robin or like Teal. Mindy, and Gia? Or me? What terrible thing had Mindy done with a baby? And Gia. I was sure, setting fire to her own home, among other things,
surely made her a lost cause out there. Suddenly. I began to wonder if Dr. Foreman wasn't the last and best hope for girls like us after all.
"Poor Phoebe. You didn't deserve the life you had. You don't have evil in your heart. You never really intended to hurt anyone, did you?"
"No."
"Of course not. All sorts of events, social and psychological experiences, have put you in a place you don't want to be in."
"What's going to happen to me?" I asked, flicking off another errant tear.
She smiled. "You're going to get out of that terribly dark place. You're going to grow and improve and become one of my girls. a Foreman girl, proud and strong and capable."
She returned to her chair behind her desk, folded the letter, and inserted it into an envelope. I watched her put it into a drawer.
"The funeral was yesterday," she said.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes. I wish I could have sent you back for that, but it wasn't possible. Your uncle and aunt understood. I finally decided to call them. Actually, they weren't at all disappointed about your not attending the services," she added dryly, sounding like she was on my side against them. "That's why I said what I said before, but none of that is important now. Forget about them. Someday when you're more confident of yourself, when you're better, you'll visit the cemetery and you'll be strong enough to bury all the ugly and nasty feelings right there alongside your mother's coffin."
She smiled as though that was a wonderful dream, a dream I should pursue.
"Now. let's make good use of this session and talk about other things, okay?"
I nodded and sucked back the remaining tears.
"Good." She folded her hands and leaned forward. "When you were all here in group therapy. I was somewhat amused to hear Mindy being accused of being my spy. The truth is I don't find Mindy making much progress. I would never solicit her help for anything just yet. Actually, Phoebe. I expect her to be here long after you leave."
"Really?"
"I'm afraid so. She's a very, very troubled girl. She tries to convince me she's better. She even tries to be my little spy and tells me about the others, about you I know she's simply attempting to ingratiate herself with me, win my favor. She's very transparent, albeit a very sneaky person. our Mindy. I bet you have no idea that she told me about Teal's intention to run off before you told me, do you?"