If I Never Went Home (7 page)

CHAPTER TEN

Bea understood that showing up for Granny Gwen’s ninetieth was not the same as living in the daily chaos of Trinidadian family life. But no matter how hard she tried, she trembled whenever she thought of a visit. In the quiet cool of early Sunday morning she put on her running shoes and joined the others pounding a path along the Charles River, hoping that the act of slow running would release her from this anxiety. Of course, ostrich-like, she could ignore the celebrations. Let the event pass without her. Who would really miss her? Granny Gwen might be a little put out, but she must be accustomed to Bea’s absence. Once Alan and Mira had divorced, little Bea had felt irrelevant to Granny Gwen – that had only changed with Alan’s death, when she became the remaining, much-valued link.

Later that day, weary and unquiet, Bea sat surrounded by half-scanned weekend papers, and absently began flicking through the Web for flights to Trinidad. The birthday party was only a month away. More than one airline offered specials, including packages with cut-rate hotel rooms. Each click melted the practical obstacles to taking the trip. It was affordable, and she had overdue holiday leave. What she still needed was an emotional battle plan that would get her back to Boston with at most superficial emotional scars. No more cutting – she had long since given up that release. Sometimes that early exposure to St. Anthony’s still gnawed as if it was yesterday. She remembered all too well the early days of being there, queuing up with Dave for their happy pills.

‘We’ve got music therapy this afternoon,’ Dave had said. ‘You coming?’

‘Not if I can help it.’

‘It’s kind of nice.’

‘Sorry. Not my thing.’

‘See you after, then?’

‘I’m not leaving.’

They shuffled forward in an orderly queue. Bea was the last to receive the morning’s medical rations.

‘Hi, there,’ the nurse said. ‘400mg Venlafaxine, and Dr. Payne has increased your Quetiapine to 400mg.’

‘Thanks.’ Bea accepted the communion in two tiny paper cups, one with red and yellow pills and the other with water. The nurse watched while Bea gulped down the capsules, then ticked her off the list. ‘Good girl.’

Body and blood. Amen.

Tonight we’ll be lining up again.

Body and blood. Amen.

As the nurse turned back toward the work station, Bea summoned up the courage to tap her on the shoulder.

The nurse spun around. ‘Yes?’ she answered brusquely.

‘I wonder,’ Bea hesitated, ‘is it possible, I mean, maybe, if I could ... I need a razor to shave? I need to shave my legs and underarms.’

‘You’re not down for sharps.’

‘I only want one for a few minutes.’

‘You can have a razor any time you like. Ask any of the nurses and we’ll stay with you while you shave.’

‘You have to stay with me the whole time?’

‘Those are the rules.’

‘But I’m not cutting,’ said Bea. ‘Look.’ She yanked up the sleeves of her sweater to expose unbroken skin.

‘I believe you,’ the nurse sneered. ‘There’re no cutters on my ward.’

Bea walked off. That stupid cunt didn’t even know she preferred cutting into her scalp. They could keep the fucking razor.

But that moment belonged to a different age. Now she worked with nurses like the ones she had met as an in-patient at St. Anthony’s. At first she had been afraid someone might recognise her. She even dreamed about being unmasked for the imposter she still felt she was, deep inside. And it took an imposter to be afraid of time alone with your own innocent family. She made up her mind to talk to Nick about it at their next debriefing.

*

Dr. Payne looked through his notes on Beatrice Clark. He had made a list of her strengths:

Ability to comprehend English.

Ability to read and write.

Neat appearance.

Appropriate social behaviours.

Good hygiene.

Artistic.

No criminal record.

Superior educational skills present.

Vocational skills present. 

Occupational skills present.

Willingness to take necessary medications.

Willingness to participate in ongoing treatment. 

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

‘Your nine o’clock is here, Dr. Payne.’

‘Thanks.’

He strolled out to the waiting room. ‘Bea! Good to see you. Come in.’

She followed him into his office.

‘So how are things with you this week?’

‘Fine,’ she whispered, looking at the floor.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘All right I guess.’ Her voice was barely audible.

‘Why are you whispering?’

She looked up at him. ‘I’m not,’ she said in a low, raspy tone. ‘I’ve lost my voice.’

‘A cold?’

She put her hand to her throat and took a deep breath to push the words out. ‘No. Just lost my voice.’

‘Completely?’

‘Yes.’

He smiled. ‘If you didn’t want to talk to me all you had to do was say.’

Bea attempted a brief smile.

‘Has this ever happened before?’ he asked. ‘I mean, without an underlying physical cause?’

‘Yes,’ she said, avoiding his eyes. ‘It comes and goes of its own free will. It doesn’t usually leave me for more than a week.’

‘I’ll try my best to hear what you say. Now, what else has been happening?’

‘Not much,’ she squeaked.

‘You’ve been at St. Anthony’s nearly a month now. Have you settled in okay?’

She shrugged her shoulders, turning her head to the side. ‘Yeah.’

‘I understand you haven’t been taking part in many of the activities.’

‘Origami for beginners? Play with clay? Give me a break,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘Often doing something physical and creative can soothe the mind.’

‘Well, it stresses me out.’

‘And the group therapy?’

She wrung her hands. ‘Super stressful,’ she said, glancing around the room. ‘There’s this new guy who runs it and he doesn’t like me.’

Dr. Payne crossed his legs. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘He keeps making sarcastic remarks about me being an academic. Makes out that I think I’m better than everyone, which I don’t think I do at all. It’s starting to bug me.’

‘Is that why you lost your voice?’

She touched her throat. ‘No.’

‘It stands to reason that if you have no voice he can’t say much about you.’

‘Yeah, well, he’s made fun of me losing my voice as well.’

‘But you’re still going to the sessions, I hope?’

‘Of course. The other patients are nice and their stories are eye-openers. Human beings survive such horrors.’

He nodded. ‘They do. And what about visitors?’

Bea sighed. ‘Don’t want to see anyone here.’

‘There’s no shame in being hospitalised.’

‘Really?’ she snapped in her little mouse voice. ‘Ever happened to you?’

‘If you broke your leg and were in hospital you would want friends to visit.’

‘Don’t pretend this is the same.’

‘Many people suffer from depression. Perhaps not all as acutely as you are experiencing now, but far more people than you think. It’s the equivalent of the common cold in psychiatry.’

‘It’s a mental hospital.’ Her voice sounded as if it was deep inside the pit of her belly. ‘In the real world that makes me a freaking basket case. Completely humiliating.’ She paused. ‘And I didn’t want to come here. You made me.’

Tears came again. She pulled her body in tightly and covered her face with her hands. The room went quiet.

‘Have you had any side effects from the medication?’ he asked. ‘Headaches? Nausea?’

‘No.’

‘And you’re sleeping OK?’

‘Yes. The Quetiapine makes me drowsy.’

‘Okay, so we’ll stick with the regime for now.’

He looked at the young woman in front of him, hugging herself and staring at the floor. She looked more like nineteen than twenty-nine.

‘How did things get like this?’ he asked. ‘Help me understand what’s going on in that head of yours.’

Bea looked up and for the first time made eye contact with him. ‘Thought I could cope with it all,’ she whispered.

‘What were you coping with?’

‘Work. Relationships. Everything. The usual.’

‘Tell me about the relationships.’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘What about the last significant relationship?’

‘Not much to tell. Last one was married. Had kids. Went on for two years. The end was brutal.’

‘How long ago was that?’

‘About three months before I came into hospital. In Pizza Hut.’

‘Sorry, can’t hear you.’

‘Three months before I came here.’ Her tiny voice tried to rise. ‘He dumped me at Pizza Hut.’

‘You’re making that up.’

Bea hugged herself tighter, her knuckles pale against her caramel skin. ‘No. The bastard took me for pizza and dumped me.’ She was half smiling as she wiped the tears from her face. ‘Two years we’d been together.’

‘Were things deteriorating, or was it a shock?’

‘Big shock. A few weeks earlier we had been working out details of when he would move in. Then wham! Guess I deserved it. Married man and all.’ The tears stained her face and neck. ‘I thought I was going for a Pepperoni Supreme. Next thing I know it’s being served with a side of deep-fried heartbreak.’

Dr. Payne looked like he was having a hard time not smiling. ‘You make it sound comical,’ he said. ‘But I imagine it was devastating.’

‘I miss him so much,’ she said, roughly wiping her tears away. ‘I thought we’d be together. Maybe have kids. We were so compatible. But then he tells me, right there in Pizza Hut, that he’s met someone else and he’s in love with this new person and doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to hurt his family. He never mentioned anything about us. He didn’t once consider how I might feel.’

Dr. Payne could barely hear her tiny voice through the sobs.

‘I understand why this happened,’ she said. ‘Really, I do.’

‘Understanding intellectually doesn’t make it any easier. You still need to grieve.’

She cried even louder. ‘He’s not coming back,’ she croaked. ‘He didn’t love me. Just a bit of pussy on the side.’

‘I don’t know the guy, but what’s clear is he couldn’t or wouldn’t give you what you needed.’

‘No one stays. Ever. Just something about me.’

He waited for her to continue but she stared at the floor.

‘Why do you say that no one ever stays?’ he asked quietly.

He regarded her for a few moments as the tears streamed down her arms and dripped on the floor. It was as if little by little her sadness displaced the oxygen in the room.

‘Is this about the Pizza Man or something else?’ he asked.

Bea bit her lip. ‘His name is Paul, not Pizza Man.’

‘Is this about Paul or your father?’

Bea closed her eyes. She couldn’t wait for the session to be over. ‘This has nothing to do with my father.’

‘Are you sure?’

She kept her eyes shut tight. Dr. Payne pressed on. ‘Did your depression start after the break-up?’

She opened her eyes. ‘You want to know when it started?’ She sighed and looked up. ‘I’m so tired.’

‘I understand that.’

‘I felt it bad from August when I was preparing for the new semester. Bit like a surfer waiting for a wave. I knew something would happen. Wasn’t sure exactly what or how or when.’

She paused and blew her nose.

‘Before the breakup things were bad,’ she sniffed. ‘But the pizza thing made life hell.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Bea’s main objection to being an in-patient at St. Anthony’s was simple: she was not sick. There were days when she might be a bit gloomy, but so would anyone confined here. And if the low winter sun intensified the fog of dread she stumbled around in every day, it must do the same for thousands. Who would not be more focused under a summer sun than under grey skies and prematurely dark nights? The aloneness was the same whether she was among colleagues and students or nurses, doctors and patients. Her insides had been cold and numb for so long that she did not remember a time of warmth and light. St. Anthony’s had done nothing to reverse that dark ache.

And while she hung around endlessly waiting for the next therapy session or the next visit from Dr. Payne, she felt pure shame at the laziness of her days. Here was time free of teaching that should be invested in unwritten articles and chapters of books she had failed to deliver these past months. Instead she remained paralysed by worthlessness, unable to concentrate and hating herself more each day.

She had some unexpected relief when one night Boston was assaulted by a blizzard that shut down the city and closed the airport. While the TV warned of possible loss of life and damage to property, she took comfort in the pounding snow that obscured the window panes. For one night at least, the gods showed empathy with the random chaos and anxiety that swirled and twisted its way through her.

When she woke from the dreamless sleep that the medication provided, the storm outside had passed. From her window she saw city workers shovelling snow off the sidewalks, while ploughs were beginning to make the main roads passable. Superficially, she too was calm and clear. But her only certainty was that her daily tempest would erupt and rage again.

The blizzard meant that the therapist for group work did not come in, and Dr. Payne could not guarantee he would be at St. Anthony’s either. Bea retreated to her room pretending to be absorbed in a
Good Housekeeping
magazine. But the others too were bored and restless. Dave wandered in, established himself in her armchair, and showed no sign of moving soon. She listened to his intimacies. His ex-girlfriend had visited but was unlikely to appear again. The hospital, the admission of being abused – it was too much for her to take on.

He was sobbing quietly. ‘At least she was honest and upfront.’

Bea gently reached for his hand. He tightened his grip around her fingers, while the other hand mopped the tears pouring down his face. For the first time in ages Bea felt true calm inside. She was useful to someone, if only for a moment. 

Dr. Payne pushed his head around the door. Calm changed to embarrassment. Would he think there was something beyond friendship developing between them?

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘You must have heard how bad it is out there.’

‘No problem, Doctor,’ said Bea, straightening up.

Dave made his exit, eyes firmly downcast. Dr. Payne closed the door behind him.

‘He’s a nice man.’

‘Yes,’ replied Bea.

‘Good to hear your voice is back.’

Bea scowled.

‘And how are things with you today?’

She hesitated. ‘Okay.’

Dr. Payne sat down and crossed his legs. ‘Bea, you know that recovery is never straightforward. You’re doing well, but it’s okay to still feel low or anxious.’

She stared at the window. ‘I should be better by now. I should be going home.’

‘And you will, but not yet. You need to give yourself more time.’

She did not answer.

‘You haven’t lost anything. When you’re better, you have your job waiting for you. Your friends.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘No one misses me.’

‘That’s the depression talking. Once these increased meds take effect things will begin to look a lot different.’ He paused. ‘You’re not the person you were just a few weeks ago, Bea. You’re doing so well. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t believe it.’

Through eyes blurred with tears, she tried to focus on the awful abstract painting in reds and blues that hung behind the armchair.

‘Back in Trinidad, in the countryside, there are men who can be rounded up to attend any funeral for rum or a few dollars. Knowing the dead person is optional. They’ll turn up wearing black and might even cry.’

‘Really?’

‘I swear,’ she said crossing herself. ‘For my funeral they’re going to have to pass by a rum shop and bribe a few guys to come and mourn for me just to have a decent show.’

‘Stop talking like that. I know that quite a few people have called for you. And these flowers in your room. They came from people who care about what happens to Bea Clark.’

She could not return his gaze.

He shifted in his seat. ‘By the way, who are the lovely roses from?’

‘A colleague. Actually that was a surprise, because it’s an older professor that I haven’t had much dealings with.’

‘There are good people around you,’ he said smiling. ‘You have to give them a chance, Bea.’

Something about the talk of roses made Bea burst into tears again. He waited until she was calmer and accepted the tissues he offered.

‘I know it’s not easy,’ he said softly.

She wiped the tears across her sticky face and took a deep breath.

‘My Dad gave me a dozen red roses for my sixteenth birthday. He showed up with them on the actual day. You have to understand that this is a man who if he turned up with a present in the same month you were born you’d say he remembered. I was so touched I cried.’

Dr. Payne sat silently.

‘That was only once, and it happened a long time ago.’

‘What does it feel like when you remember these gestures?’

She bent her head and remained silent.

‘Bea?’

‘I’m so tired. So tired.’

‘But you’re sleeping better?’

‘I get about five hours most nights.’

‘That’s certainly better, but you need more.’

She kept her head down and whispered to the carpeted floor. ‘I’ve been thinking about Paul.’

‘The infamous Pizza Man?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded. ‘That one.’ She let out a long sigh.

‘What about him?’

‘I don’t know. Miss him, I guess.’

‘What do you miss?’

‘A lot of stuff.’ She shrugged. ‘I miss his smell. And he wasn’t much of a cook but he made the best pancakes in the entire universe. Never cared for pancakes till I met him. Now I cry if they serve them in the canteen. Silly things like that.’

‘It’s not silly,’ he replied. ‘Often it’s the little things that trigger a whole new wave of grief when we least expect it.’

Bea wiped away fresh tears.

Dr. Payne leaned forward. ‘We’ve all been there before, Bea. Everything I say will sound like a platitude, but time does heal. You have every reason to hope for a fulfilling life. He wasn’t good enough for you.’

‘His favourite movie was
Casablanca
. That’s how we met. It was a special showing at Brattle Theater in Harvard Square. He was sitting two seats away. I told him to shush because he was whispering the lines along with the actors. He knows the entire movie word for word. He’d stop for a bit then start again. Then he moved to the seat next to me and started telling me when the good lines were coming up.’

She sat on her hands and began rocking gently. ‘Fancies himself as Rick,’ she smiled. ‘You know the bit where the Captain says,
What in heaven’s name brought you to Casablanca?
 And Rick says,
My health. I came to Casablanca for the waters.
 The Captain looks puzzled.
The waters? What waters? We're in the desert.
  And Rick says,
I was misinformed.
My guy used to crack up as if he was hearing that line for the first time.’

 She blew a loud breath, frowning. ‘Where am I going to find another romantic idiot like that?’

‘Pizza Man was married with two kids and left you because he got himself another mistress,’ said Dr. Payne. ‘You don’t want someone like that in your life. Doesn’t look like it now, but when you’re ready you will find someone who loves you properly.’

‘Yeah, right. I’m not the kind of girl men want to keep. Just a plaything. Toss aside when you’re finished.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘No one ever stays,’ she said, biting her lips. ‘Good enough to fuck but never good enough to love.’ She stared into the middle distance and continued to chew on her lips.

‘Is this about your father?’ asked Dr. Payne.

She clenched her jaw.

‘You told me he left when you were very young.’

The silence became heavier.

Dr. Payne was saying something about wounds that never heal, but she couldn’t be sure. It was taking all her concentration to keep from shaking.

‘I don’t always know where I am,’ she whispered, and instinctively put a hand over her mouth. But the words had already escaped.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked.

She pulled air deep into her lungs and exhaled with a weary sigh. ‘I’ll start thinking about Paul and end up seeing my Dad’s face. It’s like I’m little again, and I get confused between the people and the events. I feel everything like it’s happening all over again. Am I crying about now or then? I must be crazier than I thought.’

‘What events?’

‘People leaving.’

‘What was it like when your Dad left?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said with conviction. ‘I get confused about where I am, and what’s happening, and who I’m talking about.’

‘You’re not crazy, as you put it. I haven’t seen any sign of psychosis,’ he said. ‘If we don’t deal with issues, they simply wait for us. We fool ourselves that they’re buried for good, but that’s really not possible. And for you, recent events have unleashed some powerful stuff you’re going to have to face up to.’

‘Oh, please. My parents are good, decent people. I’m not blaming them for my fuck-up.’

‘I’m sure they are good people,’ he said, smiling. ‘But why won’t you tell them you’re having a rough time and need their support?’

‘They wouldn’t understand. We don’t have nutcases in our family. Lots of gamblers and drunks and a few religious fanatics, but I’m the very first certified mad person. I am the proud owner of a legal document that committed me against my will to a place of safety for fear I would harm myself. Signed by two doctors. Proper girls from respectable homes like mine are supposed to become lawyers, doctors. Maybe at a push they’ll settle for an accountant. They marry other lawyers, doctors and accountants. They do not get put into the looney bin.’

‘I don’t deny the stigma,’ he said. ‘But you’re their only child. They would feel terrible if they knew you were facing this on your own.’

‘Anyway, I’m fine now,’ said Bea, wiping her face and straightening her back. ‘Our time must be up.’

‘We have a few more minutes.’

‘Well, you’re a busy man,’ she said, throwing her legs off the side of the bed.

‘Bea, do you think that I will reject you?’

‘That’s a weird thing to say. I don’t care what you think.’

‘Do you think if I get to know you better I wouldn’t like you?’

She stared out at the snow.

‘Think about it,’ he said.

‘Fine,’ she said, looking past him at the door.

‘Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then,’ he said. ‘Of course, if there’s a problem before, they can always page me. With this weather I don’t know how long it would take me to get back here again. But we can always talk on the phone.’

‘Thank you, but I’m fine,’ she said.

Dr. Payne folded his arms. ‘One day you will have to acknowledge the anger you feel.’

She looked at him and for the first time felt violent rage. ‘You know Dave who was in here? Well, he hasn’t had a visit from any family members. Not one. He said they’re embarrassed. His brother’s in jail for burglary or something, but their mother never misses a single visit to that son. That is how much people look down on us. So please don’t tell me to contact my parents who are proudly telling everyone about their goddamn successful daughter in Boston.’

Bea shook with anger as she stood for him to leave.

Dr. Payne stayed where he stood for several seconds.

‘One day at a time, Bea,’ he said. ‘One day at a time.’