Music in the Night (21 page)

"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?"
She folded her arms over her breasts and walked out.
"Megan is not a very happy person," Mary Beth said. "So she's not satisfied until everyone around her is unhappy, too."
"I can see that," I said. My stomach rumbled. "I think I'll have some tea. Would you like some?"
"No," Mary Beth said quickly. "I never eat between meals."
"Tea isn't really eating," I said.
"I've got to go to my room and get something," she said with a voice of panic. "I'll see you at dinner." She rose and left quickly as I got up to go to the stove and pour hot water into a cup with a tea bag. I took one of the cookies and looked at Lulu. She was so sweet, so dainty. How could her parents let her be here and not with them? I wondered. When I returned to the sofa, she looked up from her notepad.
"How do you spell acquaintance?" she asked me and I told her. "I'm describing you as a new acquaintance," she explained and wrote on. "Is that all right?"
"Of course," I said.
"I like making new friends and my daddy likes to hear about them. He told me to write him a letter every day. Sometimes, I write two a day. And I have piles and piles of letters from him," she said. Then she paused, put the notepad down and looked at me. "I think I'll have a cookie, too."
When she got up, I leaned over and looked at her pad. I went from surprise to shock and confusion.
There wasn't a word written on it, just lines scrawled in every direction.
At Mrs. Kleckner's directive, Miss Cranshaw took me out to the gardens and walkways to get some fresh air.
"We like you to stay on the pathways," she said. "You can sit on the benches, even on the grass or under a tree, as long as you remain in this area," she added, gesturing at the boundaries.
The grounds were beautiful, with beds of flowers, birdbaths, some stone and marble statuary, and tall, thick oak and maple trees. The hedges, the grass, and the gardens were all well maintained. A groundsperson was weeding in one of the gardens as we walked through. None of the other patients at the clinic were outside, as far as I could see.
"I'd like to just sit here for a while," I said, moving to a wooden bench halfway down the long, center path. The sight of the soft clouds, the scent of the grass and the flowers, and the touch of the breeze on my face was deliciously familiar. I liked being outdoors; I liked nature. What else did I like? It was strange, discovering such basic and simple things about yourself.
"You have about an hour before dinner," Miss Cranshaw said. "I have to look after a few patients and then I'll come get you when it's time to come in," she said.
I thanked her and sat back, watching two songbirds flit from the birdbath to a statue of a cherub. They paraded on the small angel's shoulder and then gazed at rue before lifting off to fly toward the oak trees.
It's so quiet, so beautiful and fresh here, I thought. It was a perfect place for recuperation. The only problem was I didn't know from what I was recuperating and now a part of me was afraid to know, afraid to go back. If it was something so terrifying that it would cause me to forget the most basic things about myself, it must be horrendous, I thought, too horrendous for the doctors or nurses to want to tell me.
A movement near one of the sprawling oak trees caught my eye and I turned to see Lawrence Taylor emerge from the shadows and step onto a path. He walked slowly with his head down. When he drew closer, he looked up and saw me and he stopped quickly.
"Hi," I said. "It's so pretty out, I wonder why there aren't more people outside."
For a second he looked like he might run off. Then he took a deep breath and replied.
"No one comes out here this time of the day. It's too close to dinner," he said. "Everyone usually follows a strict routine here," he added. He looked to his right and then glanced at me as if he had to steal each and every look.
"How come you're outside then?"
"I like being alone now," he said. "Out here."
"Why do you like being alone?"
He shrugged.
"I always have," he said. "Well, not always. I used to be afraid to be alone," he confessed. "That's why they think I'm improving."
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked.
"No." He smiled and looked away.
"What's so funny?" I asked. He didn't reply. "Well?"
"I was going to ask you if you did and then I remembered you don't remember anything," he said.
"That's funny?"
He looked down. I was angry at first and then, I suddenly laughed. He looked up, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Maybe it is funny," I said. "I do feel
ridiculous." He held his gaze on me for the longest time yet and then he drew closer.
"Doctor Thomas told me sometimes it's better to laugh than cry," he said. "If you have more of a sense of humor about yourself[you don't take things as seriously and you don't worry as much," he explained. "I try to follow his advice, but I still don't laugh all that much."
"Sounds like good advice though," I said. "How long have you been here?"
"Two years," he replied. "It seems like forever."
"Two years! You didn't go home and come back?" He shook his head. "Why can't you go home? You seem fine to me," I said. I wanted to add, "unless shyness is now considered an illness."
"I have these spells. I get chest pain, dizziness, and I start to shake uncontrollably."
"Why?"
"It's what Megan told you. I have a panic disorder," he admitted. "I have very low self-esteem, but as I told you, I'm getting better," he added quickly, as if he were afraid I would be frightened away. "At least now I can take walks by myself. It used to be, I never left the building. However," he continued, "every time I think about leaving the clinic, I break out in a cold sweat and feel faint."