Authors: Mark Souza
When she noticed most of the people waiting were couples, she regretted leaving Moyer at home. He could help settle her nerves, make her feel she had at least one person in her corner. He had been so gentle and kind after Mrs. Wagstaff had nearly crushed her hopes. She studied the people collected there and tried to figure out what was wrong with them. What had they done to end up here?
She checked in with reception and counted the names ahead of hers. The doctor was running late. She found a seat and tuned into the net. She scanned for baby stores having sales and searched for discount coupons. It reminded her why she was here despite longing to be anywhere else. She would do anything to save her baby.
The door to the doctor’s office burst opened and a woman ran out crying. Dr. Mackie stopped at the doorway, pushed his glasses up on his nose and called the next name on his list. A couple stood and followed Mackie into his office.
Robyn’s stomach nearly flopped over. What had the Doctor said to make his last patient so hysterical? What would he ask Robyn? Could she somehow prepare?
Then she thought she knew. The Doctor must have told his last patient she had failed her eval and wouldn’t be permitted to continue in baby classes. What else could it be? What had the woman said or done? What had she gotten wrong? Whatever happened, Robyn resolved not to be that woman. She would not permit herself to breakdown or become a public spectacle no matter what the verdict from the Doctor.
Robyn searched the net hoping someone had posted psych eval experiences and could give her advice about what might be asked and how she should answer. Either everyone was too embarrassed to post, or someone was pulling down the posts as fast as they went up. She found nothing even peripherally related. Robyn’s stomach clenched. A part of her wanted to leave now. The maternal part of her recognized she was fighting for her baby and had to roll the dice no matter how scary it seemed.
Eve Ganz’s name came to mind. Eve had flunked before. She must have gone through the evaluation successfully to be in classes again. If anyone would know what would be asked and how to answer, it was Eve.
Eve seemed surprised when Robyn contacted her. Her first question was, “Where in the hell are you? It looks like a prison.” When Robyn explained where she was, Eve winced. “Are you scared?” Robyn admitted she was. “Don’t worry, everyone is. Just answer honestly. The fact that you’re frightened works in your favor. It shows you care.”
Robyn remembered the woman who rushed out of Dr. Mackie’s office sobbing. She obviously cared and yet it made no difference whatsoever. “What do they ask you in there?”
“It’s probably different for each person. For me it was why I didn’t have time to attend all the classes, and whether I would be making changes in my life to provide time to rear a baby. I don’t know what your issues are, but be prepared to talk about them.”
Robyn thanked Eve and severed the connection. The sense of doom returned. If only her issues were as simple as providing more time to rear her baby. She had thrown their replica. Though only a momentary flare of anger, a lapse, she now felt sure if she framed her responses that way, it would appear as if she was flippant and didn’t take the matter seriously.
What should she say? Was there any right answer?
She had to make the doctor understand that she would never throw a child, that she knew the difference between plastic and flesh.
Dr. Mackie’s office door opened. His last appointment, the young couple, departed. They weren’t in tears, but they weren’t happy either. What had their verdict been? Either he’d approved them to move on or not. What other options were there?
A jolt ran through Robyn when her name was called. It wasn’t her turn. There were people on the list ahead of her. She wasn’t ready. Dr. Mackie’s eyes probed the waiting area and settled on Robyn. Though they’d never met, it must have been apparent from her reaction that he’d found his next victim. She stood on wobbly legs and made her way to the door.
The interior of Dr. Mackie’s office was decorated more like the living room in a well appointed apartment than a doctor’s office. A desk with a computer sat near the far wall. The rest of the space was appointed with tropical plants, a sofa, a table, and three overstuffed chairs. Mackie held an electronic tablet in his hand and led the way to one of the chairs. He sat with the tablet on his lap and opened her file.
Robyn sat across from the doctor. Mackie welcomed her with a friendly smile. He shifted his eyes to the tablet and scanned the page for a moment before raising his gaze. “Nervous?” he asked.
“A little.”
He grinned as if her situation amused him. Robyn noticed she was sitting on the edge of her seat. She slid back in the chair, eased into the cushion and tried to get comfortable. She felt tense, as if pretending to be calm despite having her fight-or-flight response fully engaged.
“I think nervousness is a good sign,” he said. “It shows you care and take parenthood seriously. That, in my mind, is a key component.”
Robyn nodded, feeling too scared to trust speaking. She had a tendency to talk quickly when she was nervous and to ramble on as if her off-switch had shorted out.
“Do you know why you are here?”
Robyn nodded again. “I threw my doll.”
“You say
doll
; you realize what it’s meant to represent, correct? Are you trying to minimize the gravity of your actions by emphasizing the artificial nature of the victim?”
The question was so direct it caught her off guard. Dr. Mackie wasn’t going to be delicate. With a lobby full of waiting patients, maybe he couldn’t afford to be. Tears pricked at Robyn’s eyes, she blinked them back. This wasn’t the place for a breakdown. She didn’t need to add emotional instability to her growing list of parental deficiencies.
“I do understand what the doll represents,” she managed. She cleared her throat and continued. “I think perhaps you are right, that I am attempting to minimize the gravity of my actions. But please understand that I would never do that to a real baby. I do know the difference.”
Dr. Mackie’s lips were pressed into a tight line of skepticism. “What made you throw the replica? Were you angry?”
“Yes,” she admitted. Her voice seemed timid and small in her ears. She despised the sound of it.
“What about the situation made you angry?”
“I don’t know. I think it was the convergence of a few things. The night before, the doll kept me up with its crying. Then there were all the dirty diapers, and the stink that doesn’t go away. I simply needed a little time when someone else would take care of it.”
“You realize real babies do cry at night and mess their diapers? It’s why the replicas were created, to separate those with the capacity for rearing children from those that can’t.”
“But it’s not real,” Robyn cried. “I have a friend with a baby girl. I would never hurt her. With a real baby there are rewards and wonderful moments that counter all the bad. With the replicas there aren’t. The bad is all there is; the bad and that dead, thankless stare.”
Mackie’s face remained stern. “They are designed at the extreme on purpose, to show who has the temperament to endure the long streaks of adversity parents sometimes face with their children.” His caterpillar-like eyebrows arched as if he expected acknowledgement. Robyn dutifully nodded. “Do you understand the source of your anger?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Do you know why you were angry? Do you harbor anger toward your parents? Were they overly strict or did you feel ignored? Was your childhood disappointing?”
“No. I love my parents. I had a great childhood.”
“What about your current home life? Are things okay between you and your husband?”
“Yes, fine.”
Dr. Mackie’s face broadened into a grin. “In my business, the word
fine
is an indicator, a red flag. It implies tolerance of a situation on the verge of not being fine. Does that describe your relationship with your husband?”
“No, Moyer is a wonderful man.”
“I didn’t ask whether or not he was a good man, I asked about your relationship. What about your relationship troubles you?”
“Moyer is so gentle and patient. But at times he can be a bit reclusive and distant. It’s frustrating. His emotions are a bit smothered. At times I wonder if he has emotions at all and whether I really know him. I feel I’m being walled off.”
“Is he what you want in a mate?”
“I think so.”
“That doesn’t sound very definitive. Do you often wish you had married someone else?”
“Sometimes, but I wouldn’t say often.”
“Is he the source of your anger?”
“As I said, he can be very frustrating.” She bit at her lip as she watched Dr. Mackie’s face for a reaction. Was she making a mistake? Throwing blame at Moyer might not get them any closer to a baby. Next, Mackie might have Moyer attending sessions. It was a bit like the children’s tale where a man gets a cat to get rid of a mouse, then a dog to get rid of the cat, and so on.
“Do you fight often?”
“No, and that in itself can be maddening. He has a way of diffusing things before they get started. Sometimes I just need to get it all out. I need him to get angry, too. But he won’t. It’s not a fight if no one fights back. I wind up feeling guilty for picking on him.”
“Did he do his share helping out with the replica?”
“Yes.”
“And yet you consider him the main source of your anger?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.”
“Mrs. Winfield, please understand. I am trying to determine if your anger is internally or externally based.”
“Is one worse than the other?”
“You mean in terms of qualifying for a parenting certificate? Both can be problematic depending on the circumstances.”
Was Dr. Mackie being intentionally vague? Was he trying to prevent Robyn from tailoring her responses to whatever would give her the best chance at their child? Or was he messing with her for his own amusement?
“I see in your file you had a recent change of work assignment.”
“Yes.”
“How is that going?”
“Fine.”
A smile played at Dr. Mackie’s cheeks and Robyn remembered what he’d said about
fine
.
“What do you do?”
“I have a position with Oshun Maintenance Services.”
“That’s pretty broad. What do you do specifically? How would you describe your job?”
“I’m a cleaning woman,” she said, trying to keep emotion out of her voice.
“Do you like what you do? Does this work suit you?”
Robyn’s jaw clenched before she thought to stop it. This wasn’t the place to show anger. A change of expression washed over Dr. Mackie’s face, it bordered on glee. He’d noticed her anger flare.
“No,” she admitted. “I hate it. I spend all day bent over or on my knees. By the end of my shift my back aches and my hands bleed. I…” She heard the shrill tone of her own voice, the pleased nod of Mackie’s head, and stopped mid-sentence with the realization she was seconds from a breakdown and had probably already gone too far.
“So this wouldn’t be your first choice of work I take it?”
Robyn shook her head. “Not by a long shot.”
“May I ask what you did before?”
“I was a programmer and encryption specialist, and damn good at it.”
“So you lost your job during the post-Mars recession and were repurposed. You feel this work is beneath someone with your skills, and you resent the loss of status. This makes you angry. Would you say that’s accurate?”
Robyn nodded her agreement, glad someone finally understood.
Mackie peered past her and sighed, “Our time is up. I think we made a good start, don’t you?” Robyn’s mind jolted at the word
start
. What did
start
mean? “I’ll have my assistant book another session.”
“When do I get to return to baby classes?”
“There is no definite timetable. Each person is different. It could be as short as twenty sessions, it might be more.”
“Twenty — no! I have a baby due and classes to take. What am I supposed to do?”
“That isn’t my concern.”
“There must be ways of handling situations like these. What will it take? Money? Anything you want from me, you can have.” Mackie had furrowed his brow and she couldn’t tell if he was indignant, or seriously considering her proposal.
“I understand your predicament, I really do. I see scores of people every week in the same position. But I take my duty very seriously.
“Please see Mrs. Crosby on the way out and set up another appointment.”
Robyn glanced around the office. It seemed to be spinning. She rushed from the room trying hard to keep from crying. There would be no second appointment. It was a waste of time. Whether she attended or not, her daughter was as good as gone. She would be someone else’s child soon.
A single thought haunted Robyn as she staggered to the station. If years from now Robyn saw her child in the street or sat next to her on the tube, would she recognize her own daughter?
Chapter 20
M
oyer felt the surge of emotion from the apartment long before he reached the door. The day at work had been long and hectic, and the emotions waiting ahead were dark with despair. The idea of turning around and heading for a bar was tempting. Maybe with a little time the situation would resolve itself. Or maybe it would be easier to deal with if half numbed with alcohol.
He couldn’t turn away. Robyn was in too much pain. She shouldn’t be left alone. Outside the door he hesitated, drew in a deep breath and sighed in resignation. An already long day was growing longer with no end in sight. All he wanted was sleep, and at this point, if he never awoke, that would be fine by him.
Inside, Robyn sat on the sofa, tissues bunched up and scattered on the coffee table. Her eyes and nose were red and swollen, her shoulders wracked as she silently sobbed. When she noticed Moyer, she stretched her arms out for him like a flood victim hoping to be plucked to safety from a rooftop.
“I screwed up, Moyer. I’m so sorry.”