Authors: Villette Snowe
“Has anyone come to visit me?”
“She had shoulder-length dark hair. I think she was your sister.”
Chapter 55
Rorschach Test
Penny had already been here.
Shit.
My plan was swirling down the toilet.
Only a little while after Molly left, a woman in a lab coat and carrying a clipboard came in. She was probably in her fifties, still nice looking, like Elizabeth.
I took a silent breath. I couldn’t think about that. I’d go ape-shit again.
“So, I hear you’re feeling better,” she said as she flipped the pages on her clipboard.
I wasn’t exactly sure how to act. Normal wouldn’t cut it—what
normal
person would be okay with being tied down? But I certainly couldn’t show how aggravated I was, either.
“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry about being trouble.”
“Do you remember that?” She glanced at me from over her glasses.
“A little. I was shocked when I woke up. I wasn’t thinking straight.”
She wrote something on her clipboard.
What in the hell is she writing?
I resisted the urge to try to sit up and look, though I felt like a fucking toddler talking to people while lying down.
“I see you haven’t eaten yet,” she said. “I’ll make sure you’re brought something.”
“Molly’s bringing me water.”
She finally looked up from her clipboard. “Making friends already.”
“She’s been nice to me. She told me where I am.”
“And where are you?”
“St. Vincent’s psych ward.”
“Why were you brought here?”
Why so many fucking asinine questions? I kept my voice level. “Because I tried to kill myself.”
“Can you tell me why you did that?”
I closed my eyes, and my jaw clenched. The fucking bitch was going to make me say it. “Because Elizabeth is dead. She followed me across the street and got hit by a car.”
“I’m sorry.” Then she continued. “Do you feel guilty for that?”
“Yes.”
“Elizabeth was a friend? A lover?”
I opened my eyes. “She was my best friend.” My body tightened from holding back my aggravation. I hoped she didn’t see my forearms were starting to ripple.
“Do you still want to kill yourself?”
I had to lie, and I had to do it effectively. “I…I don’t want to hurt Penny again.” There, and that was even the truth, though I was sure the doctor would not agree with me on the best way not to hurt Penny. Doctors didn’t know dick.
She nodded and wrote something on her clipboard. I watched as her pen scratched the paper and wished I had x-ray vision and, for once, not so I could see under her clothes.
She wrote a fucking paragraph.
“Doctor,” I said.
She looked up, as if we hadn’t just been in the middle of a conversation.
“I need to use the restroom and…” I lifted my hands the inch that I could, and the metal bed rails clanged.
“Why haven’t you used the bedpan?” She said it like I was being silly, like a child who refuses to eat anything other than peanut butter.
“I’d really prefer not to.”
She pursed her and lips then walked out of the room. I sighed and lay still. My bladder was about to explode.
Then the doctor came back in—with two large orderlies. They stood on either side of the bed while the doctor disconnected the tube that was in my arm. Then she stood back several feet, as if concerned for her safety, as the orderlies pulled on the thick Velcro straps to release my wrists. I sat up, slowly so as not to upset her.
The orderly on my left lowered the bed rail and took my arm just above my elbow. I felt like a high-security prisoner.
He walked me over to the bathroom, which was just through a door on the opposite wall from the bed. He stood in the doorway. I glanced at him, but he kept standing there. Whatever.
The hospital gown was like a fucking dress. I lifted it up and tucked it under my arm so I wouldn’t piss on it. My dick was a little hard from having to use the restroom so badly and for so long. I held it over the toilet and…Damn did it feel good to empty my bladder. I pissed for a good full minute. I almost closed my eyes to enjoy the emptying feeling.
I shook off the last few drips and then lifted my arm to let the gown fall back down.
The orderly was looking at me. I glanced over and realized his gaze lingered a little too low. Of course, it would have to be the gay orderly who followed me to the bathroom.
I flushed the toilet and then turned on the faucet to wash my hands. The bandages were in the way. I did my best to keep them dry and didn’t entirely succeed.
I let the orderly take my arm to lead me back to the bed, and I sat on the edge, didn’t lie down.
“Are you feeling any pain?” the doctor said as she glanced at the bandages.
I lifted my wrist and looked at the bandage. The wounds did hurt, though it was nothing in comparison to waking up, still alive. I told myself that pain wouldn’t last long. I just had to get through this, convince this doctor I was sane, and then I’d never have to think about Kimber or Elizabeth again.
“It’s all right,” I said. “Livable.”
She wrote something on her clipboard.
The same orderly who’d taken me to the bathroom asked the doctor, “You want us to strap him down again?”
The doctor looked at me. “What do you think?”
She was asking if I wanted to be strapped down? I figured she was asking me all these questions just to see how I’d answer, like a Rorschach test—throw miscellaneous shit at the patient and see what comes to his mind, what his reactions are.
“I’d prefer not to be,” I said. Then I smiled a little. “What if I have to use the restroom again?”
Her cheeks lifted slightly, like she was fighting a smile. She looked back down at her clipboard and said, “Bedpan.”
“Not going to happen.”
Her lips twitched.
Damn, I was good. I could even charm this bitch of a doctor.
“All right.” She flipped back to the front page of her clipboard and looked at me. “We’ll see how it goes.” She walked out, followed by the orderlies. The one glanced back at me before disappearing down the hall.
This was progress at least. I stood and looked around, hoping to find my clothes or scrubs or anything that would cover me without letting my ass hang out. Even if I found my clothes, though, I still had the dilemmas of transportation and money. Surely, my wallet was being kept someplace safe, someplace where I’d never be able to get to it. And I had no one to call, no Elizabeth to come pick me up.
Standing near the window, I pulled my hands through my hair. No, I couldn’t think about that. I couldn’t afford to lose it again—then I’d never get out of here.
Hands pressed to my head, I tried to find something else to think about, anything else. My last article floated in and out of my head, the book I just finished and how ironic it was that I ended up in exactly his position.
None of it would stick. Elizabeth’s face kept coming back…
I tried staring out the window, at the furniture. None of it worked. I only saw Elizabeth’s face as life faded out of it.
Shit.
Come on, Heath, think of something.
Kimber’s face appeared—as if to save me. We were making love. She was watching me, meeting my eyes with that honesty I loved about her. I told her I loved her, and I swore something in her eyes, something more than attraction and physical pleasure…
Footsteps.
I looked over my shoulder to see the same orderly. I didn’t turn all the way—and let him see I was getting hard.
He set a cup on the table next to the bed. “Molly said to give you this.”
“Thanks.”
He hesitated before leaving.
I turned back to the window.
Only a few seconds later, more footsteps. I didn’t turn to look at him this time, no encouragement.
“Heath.”
I looked back at the sound of Penny’s shaking voice.
Chapter 56
Truth And A Lie
Penny was across the room before I could react. Then she hugged me.
I stood there.
I didn’t know what to do, what was best. If I hugged her back like I wanted, that would make any anger she had evaporate—I knew Penny, how she worked.
I stepped back and turned away.
“Heath,” she said.
Silence.
Her breath shook. Seeing Penny cry, causing her to cry, was almost as hard to endure as Kimber’s slap. But I had to be strong. This was for her.
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t realize. I’m sorry. I…” She paused as if waiting for a response from me. “I thought it was the same as with all the others. I didn’t know you knew her better than even in passing. I thought I knew her better, how hurt she’d be when she found out you didn’t want anything more than to sleep with her. I know you would never mean to hurt her—you’re just used to dealing with women who only want one thing from you. I knew you would hate yourself when you realized she felt more strongly than you did. I…I thought I was protecting you.”
“She was hurt anyway,” I said. “What does it matter?”
A long pause.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I stayed turned away. I didn’t want her to know how I felt about Kimber. She’d hurt more if she understood the full truth, if she had any idea. She’d torture herself for the rest of her life, maybe even blame herself for my suicide.
“You…you could try to explain it to her,” she said.
“Explain what?”
“That you…love her.”
I turned. My black notebook, it was in her arms.
Son of a fucking bitch.
I stared at the notebook and then glared at her face. “Get out.”
She took a half step closer. “Heath.”
“Get—
the fuck
—out.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “The doctor kept asking why you did it. I couldn’t give her an answer. She said anything I could tell her would be helpful, so she could…help you deal with it.”
“I don’t need to deal with anything.”
She reached out as if to touch my arm but stopped when my lip curled.
Her voice barely made sound. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
I yanked the notebook out of her hand and hurled it at the wall. She flinched at the sound it made as it smacked the wall and tumbled to the floor.
“I don’t need your goddamn help,” I sneered.
Her chin set stubbornly, the way it did when she had to fire someone. “I’m not giving up on you.”
“Maybe I haven’t been clear enough. I don’t want your
fucking
help.”
She stood straighter. “I don’t care if you want it.” Her voice softened a little. “I gave up on Mom. I won’t do that with you.”
“Mom was a lunatic.”
“She was a good person.”
I smirked. “Always speak well of the dead.”
“You never knew her. She was sweet, even when she was out of her mind. I came to visit her right after she gave birth. I saw her hold you, the one time she ever got to. She was lucid for a few minutes—maybe it was from the pain of childbirth. I don’t know. Everything about her was gentle again. Then she called me over, and we watched you smile together—like we were a family, and in those few minutes, we were.
“Then she asked what we should name you. I told her about a character in a book I’d read—I don’t even remember the book anymore. I just liked the name. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at me—like she used to. For a few minutes, she was my mommy again. And she agreed we should call you Heath.”
I didn’t like to think where my name came from, where I came from.
“She loved me,” I murmured. The words popped out before I realized.
Penny smiled. “She was never lucid again after that, but she always talked about you, about her sweet baby boy. One of the nurses took a Polaroid of the three of us. Mom kept it under her pillow.”
I paused, while fighting the urge to ask more. I knew almost nothing about my mother. I’d always imagined her as some raving, incoherent creature. But Penny made her sound like a woman I would’ve wanted to know, a woman I wished I could have known. Maybe Penny had never told me any of this because it was too painful. I wished she had. I grew up knowing nothing of my parents, of where I came from—as if I’d come from nowhere.
I walked away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. I needed to push her away. I just wasn’t sure how to do it.
Penny followed me and sat a good foot away on the bed. The mattress crinkled, that horrible plastic sound.
The room was getting slowly whiter with the rising of the sun. I didn’t like it, too stark and clean. I preferred darkness. I could get lost in darkness. It was easier than seeing where I was going. Perhaps being a nutcase was better than being sane.
“She was too gentle,” Penny said. “I think that’s what broke her.”
I looked at the locked cabinet against the opposite wall.
“I see a lot of her in you,” she said.
“Stop.”
“You don’t show it—you fight so hard—but I know how gentle your heart is.”
My voice barely made sound. “Please stop.”
She was quiet.
She knew too much about me, a painfully clear understanding. Kimber had quickly begun developing sparks of that. Perhaps that was part of the reason I fought so hard against both of them. They had the power to hurt me, and worse, I knew how to hurt them.
“You don’t know why I did it all those years, do you?” she said.
I didn’t respond.
“You were sleeping around so much. I was so scared. Anything could have happened to you—diseases, an angry husband…”
“Money.”
“No.”
I made a sarcastic noise.
“I never took any of the money, even when you told me to.”
My eyebrows pulled together.
“I did it to protect you,” she said.
I shook my head as if dislodging a ridiculous thought.
“You were going to get hurt eventually,” she said, “physically, emotionally…So, I decided not to fight what you were doing but to regulate it. I made sure no husband would realize what was going on—who would guess what was happening in the back of a bath shop? And I made sure the women you saw were clean.”
“Only referrals…”
“And the price. We got you high-end clients, and that’s the kind of women they referred.”