"What happened then? What's caused this?"
"What's happened is you have experienced a very traumatic event, an event of such emotional and psychological magnitude that your brain has shut down its memory chambers to prevent you from suffering," he said softly, leaning over the desk toward me. "It's really a self-defense mechanism the mind employs and is not uncommon in situations such as yours.
"This trauma arose from an event that overwhelmed your coping mechanism. Another term for this today is dissociative amnesia, the inability to recall important personal information."
"What was it?" I asked, my heart pounding. "What was the traumatic event?"
"It's important you remember that on your own, Laura," he said.
"Laura, but Laura what? What's my full name?" I demanded. "Tell me."
He nodded.
"Your full name is Laura Logan," he said. Then he stared at me for a moment. "What does that do for you, hearing your full name? Do you remember any more about yourself? Close your eyes and repeat your name. Go on," he urged.
I did so and then I shook my head.
"I don't remember anything," I wailed. "I can't," I cried more desperately.
"You will," he promised me. "I'll take you back gradually until it all rushes into your consciousness again. If you're just patient and--"
I shook my head.
"I can't stand it!" I cried. "I look in the mirror and feel like I'm looking at someone else. It's horrible. I'm walking around on pins, and needles. My head keeps echoing with questions, over and over and--"
"Easy, Laura. Don't upset yourself," he said, but the tears were already flowing down my cheeks, burning as they traversed my face and dripped off my chin. I shook my head violently, shook it so hard, it revived the ache in my neck.
"No, no, no. I want to be cured now! I want to remember now! Tell me everything. Tell me why I'm like this!" I screamed at him.
He stood up.
"Easy, Laura. Please. You're just upsetting yourself and making it all that much more difficult for us to help you here,"
"I don't want to be here. I want to be. . where do I want to be? I don't even know that!" I shouted. I gazed down at my arms, the black and blue marks still vivid. "Look at me. What happened? Tell me everything! Please, tell me," I begged and then I rose and looked about the office, looked for an avenue of escape. I felt like running and running until I couldn't run anymore.
He was around his desk instantly and at my side. "Laura, relax now. Sit calmly. Come on," he said, putting his hand on my arm gently but firmly.
Megan's terrified face flashed before me.
"He's the worst," she whispered.
Who were these people who knew more about me than I knew about myself but kept it secret? What was going on?
"NO!" I screamed again. I pushed him away and then I heard a terrible ringing in my head. I pressed my palms to my ears. Someone was shouting Laura. There was water everywhere, water rushing over me until I couldn't hear my name anymore.
"N00000!" I cried and then, all went black.
I woke on a gurney in a treatment room someplace in the building. The walls and the ceiling were stark white. Mrs. Kleckner was at my side and Doctor Southerby was on a telephone, talking softly to someone when I opened my eyes.
"She's regaining consciousness, Doctor," Mrs. Kleckner declared. I started to sit up, but she put her hand on my shoulder. "Just relax for a while," she commanded. "Doctor?"
He cradled the receiver and approached.
"How are you feeling now, Laura?"
"My head hurts," I said with a grimace. The pain felt like a metal band being tightened from one temple to the other. "We'll give you something for that," he said.
"What happened?"
"You got too excited." He smiled. "You know how a circuit breaker works?"
I thought. Yes, I did know, but I had no idea why. "Yes."
"Well, the mind works the same way. When it gets overloaded, it shuts down. Now you see why I've got to get you to relax first before I can help you?" he asked. "I want you to learn to trust me, Laura. Only then can I help you, and I want to help you," he said firmly. He held my hand and gazed down at me, his eyes washing over my face and then fixing on mine. "Do you believe me?"
I nodded, but not with enough confidence to please him. He smiled nevertheless.
"In time you will and then you'll cure yourself, Laura. This unfortunate situation won't be long. I promise," he said. "Really." He patted my hand.
I wanted to believe him. He was saying the things I wanted to hear.
"Sit up now and take this pill," he said, indicating the pill Mrs. Kleckner was waiting to give me. She placed it in my mouth and gave me some water. I drank and swallowed.
"For now," Doctor Southerby continued, "I'd like you to return to your room, get some more rest, and then we'll talk again."
"I want to talk now," I insisted.
"I know you do, but I don't want to chance any recurrences of what just happened. You're very fragile right now, Laura, more fragile than you can imagine. You need to rest up a bit so you can go about your recovery with full strength. Trust me about this. I promise," he said, "you won't be here a minute more than you have to be." He nodded at Mrs. Kleckner.
"Try to stand up now, Laura," she said.
I sat up and my head began to spin so rapidly, I actually lost my breath for a moment and thought I was going to black out again.
"Easy, easy," Doctor Southerby said. "You better wheel her over," he told Mrs. Kleckner. Moments later they both eased me into a wheelchair. I lay my head back and felt myself being moved out of the treatment room. I kept my eyes closed all the way back to my room.
Once there, Mrs. Kleckner helped me into bed.
"Just rest," she said. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while."
"I want to go back to Doctor Southerby's office and get my treatment," I moaned. "I want this to be over."
"You will go back," she said sternly, "but you heard the doctor. He wants you to be rested, stronger, otherwise he's just wasting his time and his time is very important. He doesn't only work here with the privileged. He works at another clinic, too."
"The privileged?"
What was privileged about being here, about being disturbed and sick? I wanted to ask. I tried to open my eyes, but whatever they gave me made my eyelids feel so heavy. In moments, I was asleep.
I woke when I felt my whole body shaking. Megan Paxton was at my bedside, tugging on my hand. She looked at the door and then back at me.
"What happened?" I muttered. My eyes felt like cobwebs had been built over them. My eyelids remained glued shut.
"They gave you something," she whispered. "You've got to be careful. One of them can come in here and rape you while you're asleep," she said. "They did that to me. Stay awake," she warned. "Or sleep with one eye open."
"I'm so tired," I muttered. She shook me again.
"Stay awake," she ordered.
"What are you doing in here?" I heard and forced my lids open enough to see Mrs. Kleckner in the doorway. "Come out of there immediately, Megan," she commanded, her hands on her hips.
"I'm just seeing how she is. What's the big deal?"
"You know you're not supposed to go into anyone else's room without permission from me. Now come out and let her rest, Meg.: 1. Now!" she insisted.
"Stay awake," she whispered to me as she left.
My eyes shut closed again and when I woke the next time, Megan's presence in my room seemed more like a dream. I felt groggy, but I wanted to get up and move about, so I lifted myself from the bed and went into the bathroom. I washed my face in water as cold as I could get it and that helped some. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Mrs. Kleckner waiting.
"I see you got yourself up. That's good. How do you feel?" she asked.
"Weak, but I don't want to sleep anymore," I added quickly, afraid she had another pill waiting.
"Very well. As long as you feel up to it,
I'll show you about the facility myself then," she said.
"When do I see Doctor Southerby again?"
"Tomorrow," she said. "He had to leave the clinic for other appointments. If you're strong enough, you can go to the recreation room and meet some of the other patients. It's good for you to interact with other people. Doctor Southerby left strict orders about that. He doesn't want you hibernating in this room."
"I don't want to hibernate. I'd like to get some fresh air, too," I said.
"I'll see that one of the attendants takes you out before dinner," she told me.
"Dinner? What about lunch?" I asked. She laughed, a short laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"You slept through lunch. There's tea and crackers or cookies in the recreation room, if you like, and soft drinks in the refrigerator. Come along," she said and I started after her, my steps not as steady as I would have liked. She noticed and held my arm in the corridor.
"Once you move around, get your circulation going, you'll get stronger," she said.
"What did you give me? What was in that pill?"
"It was just a light sedative, Doctor Southerby has prescribed it for you to take at night so you get a good rest."
"I don't like taking pills," I said. She paused and looked at me.
"You remember not liking them or you just decided?" she asked.
"I . . . just don't like them," I said.
"Well, we all have to do things we don't like to do once in a while. You're no different just because you can't remember who you are," she commented and led me to the recreation room.
There were only seven patients there, two boys who looked about twelve or thirteen playing a game of chess and the rest of the patients sitting and reading or just staring out the windows at the walkways and gardens behind the building. Megan, Lulu, the very thin girl, and the good-looking young man I had seen in the cafeteria were sitting on two sofas facing each other with a table between them. There were magazines and books on the table. Lulu was writing feverishly in a long, yellow pad and didn't look up as the others did when I entered.
On the right I saw a small stove, a refrigerator, a sink, and some cabinets.
"There's hot water for tea there," Mrs. Kleckner indicated, "and some cookies, if you like. Tea bags are in the cabinet and milk and soft drinks are in the refrigerator."
"Thank you," I said.
She brought me farther into the room.
"This is Mark and Arthur," she said, referring to the two boys playing chess. "You two remember Laura, don't you?" she asked. They looked up at me and then back at their chessboard with hardly a smile of greeting. It was as if nothing more than a breeze had blown by them.
"You already know Megan Paxton and Edith Sanders," she said, referring to Lulu. "This is Mary Beth Lewis and Lawrence Taylor," she added.
Mary Beth gave me a warm smile of welcome. Lawrence glanced at me quickly and then looked down.
"I'll leave Laura with you so you can all get to know each other better," she told them with a mechanical smile. "If you need anything, ask Miss Cranshaw," she told me and nodded at the attendant sitting in the corner and reading a magazine.
Miss Cranshaw gazed our way for a moment and then folded the magazine and sat back to watch us. I thought it was because of the look Mrs. Kleckner had given her. She didn't look much younger than Mrs. Kleckner. In fact, she could easily be older, I thought.
Mrs. Kleckner left us.
"Sit here," Mary Beth said, moving over on the sofa to make a place for me. Lawrence looked up, but quickly shifted his eyes from mine.
"Have you remembered your full name yet?" Mary Beth asked.
"It's Laura Logan," I said.
"How come you didn't know your own name?" Lulu asked, perking up.
"She's got amnesia, stupid," Megan said. "Why do you think she's here? For the food? Or for the stimulating company?"
"Oh," Lulu said, turning to me meekly. "I'm sorry. Does it hurt?"
"Not the way you think. It is painful not to be able to remember anything though," I said. Lawrence gazed at me and smiled softly before looking out the window.
"Do you know why you have amnesia?" Mary Beth asked.
"If she knew why, she wouldn't be here," Megan answered for me.
"She's right. I don't know," I said. "All I know is it's because of something terrible that happened to me."
"If that was the case, most everyone in this place would have amnesia," Megan quipped.
"What can you remember about yourself?" Lawrence asked and then pressed his lips together as if the words had escaped before he could stop them. He had thick eyebrows and dark eyes that flashed with interest before shifting away.
"Not very much, really. Actually," I said, looking at all of them, "nothing."
"Nothing?" Mary Beth cried. She started to smile.
"I didn't really remember my full name. Doctor Southerby told me," I said.
Mary Beth stopped smiling. She formed a big 0 with her lips. It looked like she had blown a bubble.
"He wouldn't tell me what had happened to me either. He wants me to remember on my own."
"It's classic," Megan said as if she were a doctor herself. "Once I heard her story, I knew she had suffered some terrible experience, and as a result, her mind's gone completely bonkers. Remember that girl they moved to the Tower," she continued, "the one who tried to cut her wrists with the broken plate? Every day she couldn't remember what she had done or said the day before. It was as if her mind erased itself every morning and started over. Remember? What was her name?" she asked Lawrence. "You tried to talk to her all the time."
He turned beet red.
"I didn't try to talk to her all the time," he said, flashing a look at me.
"Fine. You didn't. It was all in my imagination. What was her name?" Megan demanded.
"Lydia," he said quickly. "Lydia Becker."
"Right. Lydia Becker. Every day we each had to introduce ourselves to her again. It was as if she had just arrived, Remember, Mary Beth?"
"Yes."
Megan laughed.
"I started giving her a different name for myself each time just to see if it mattered. It didn't."
"What did you mean when you said they moved her to the Tower?" I asked.
"She's still here, but on the top floor. We call it the Tower because Megan thinks once you are taken up there, you are shut away for the rest of your life, like in a tower," Mary Beth explained and shrugged.
"You are! No one who's been brought up there ever comes back to this floor, do they?" Megan fired at her. She glared angrily for a moment and then turned to me. "You can just imagine what goes on. She could be raped and not even remember it the next day. If they ever want to take me up there, I want you all to promise to kill me."
Lulu laughed.
"I mean it," Megan said. "I'd rather be dead." She glared at Lawrence, who immediately looked down.
"Why are you here?" I asked Mary Beth.
Megan laughed loud and hard.
"Are you kidding? Why is she here? Look at her. She thinks she's fat."
"I am overweight for my size," Mary Beth said.
I started to smile, but saw the look on Lawrence's face that told me not to.
"She eats and then throws it all up," Megan said. "One of these days, they'll tie her to her bed and shove a tube down her throat."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, not knowing what else to say. I had the feeling words were like footsteps on thin ice here.
"Go on, ask Lawrence why he is here," Megan taunted. I looked at him. He held my gaze for a brief time and then blushed and looked down at his hands. They looked long and graceful. He had them folded and was twirling his thumbs. "Can you guess why he's here?" Megan continued.
"I have no idea," I said. "He looks very healthy."
His eyes lifted to mine and I thought he smiled, but then I realized he had the sort of face that could easily be deceiving. Was it a smile or a look of pain? As if to answer, he moved
his lips slightly, lifted them almost imperceptibly in the corners, brightened his eyes and fixed them for a second on me, but almost as soon as he realized I felt his interest, he shifted away. Was he merely overly shy? That wouldn't be enough to keep someone here, would it? I wondered.
"Well, Lawrence, tell her what's wrong with you," Megan challenged. "Go on. Don't leave her hanging and guessing." He shook his head.
"Oh, go on, tell her," Megan taunted. "It's a sign of improvement when you can talk about your own problem," Megan explained.
He glanced at me again and then looked away. I thought his eyes were starting to look a bit teary.
"Lawrence hasn't made much improvement yet. Young Mr. Taylor," she continued, "has what the doctors describe as a panic disorder. Don't you, Lawrence?"
"Can't you leave him alone?" Mary Beth said.
"What am I doing to him? Lawrence, can't you speak up for yourself?"
"Yes, Lawrence? Hold it, everyone," Megan said, raising her hands. She turned and looked toward the two boys playing chess. "Quiet down over there. Lawrence Taylor the third is about to say something. Go on, Lawrence," she said.
He looked at me and then rose quickly, his face flushed.
"Where are you going?" Megan cried.
"Will you leave him alone," Mary Beth said.
Lawrence glanced at me and then hurried out of the recreation room.
Megan laughed.
"Lawrence," she said, "is unable to perform today. Everyone gets his money back."
"That wasn't very nice," I told her.
She smirked.
"As Mrs. Kleckner says, if we baby each other, none of us will get better."
"And what's wrong with you then?" I demanded, still feeling sorry for Lawrence.
"Me? I'm . . . unable to have significant relationships. I don't trust anyone. Can I trust you?" she asked, her eyes growing watery. "Can I trust you?" she asked Mary Beth. "What about you, Lulu?"
"I'm writing to my father," Lulu said with a smile, "telling him about our new friend."
"Oh great. Another letter to the dead. I have to go to the bathroom," Megan said, rising. "Will everyone please excuse me?"