God’s sake, what happened? I can’t get my head around it. The guilt is overwhelming. Jeff lost a son, too, then his wife tries to kill herself?
Chapter 12
T here are no mirrors. I’m not sure why. I smooth my hair. I’ve barely felt human, let alone attractive, in almost two months—good grooming and life in the disturbed ward are not compatible. Make-up, hair products, anything personal just isn’t allowed.
I close my eyes, imagine myself twirling in front of the mirror in a rainbow tiered crinoline, a skinny six-year-old, my bird legs disappear into huge black and white saddle shoes. At seven, a white organza Holy Communion dress made by my mother. A proud ten-year-old in a straw Easter bonnet and patent leather Mary Janes. And all the fads and fashions since then—a watch-plaid kilt with an oversized gold safety pin, knee socks and penny loafers, my school uniform, rolled up at the waist, a homecoming dress, burnt orange wool, with a carnation corsage pinned on the cowl neck, my first formal taffeta for the J-Hop, the green velvet prom dress that made me feel like a movie star. The homecoming queen finery and, finally, the wedding gown I designed myself, showing off my tiny waist, falling gracefully into a long train.
Today I imagine myself as I used to be. I have to, Jeff is visiting. I pick at the fuzzy pills on my emporium sweater. I haven’t felt attached to my body in quite some time, even before the hospital. I think my body started to break away during those long nights, sitting upright in a chair, Alexander’s moist head against my breast, my back aching with fatigue, my muscles tense with worry. When Alexander stopped shifting with pain, finally escaping into sleep, I tried to hold so very still, making my body his cradle. At first, it was by sheer will and necessity, now it’s automatic. Before I know it, I’m floating up against the ceiling.
I’m terrified. Seeing Jeff will demand me to be aware in a way I haven’t been since my breakdown. And the not knowing. Jeff is scheduled. Will Mom, Molly be waiting in the visitors’ room? I feel the panic rise.
“What time is he getting here?” Heidi says.
“Visit’s scheduled for 2:30. I’m not sure if my mom’s coming, but they told me Jeff should be in the visitors’ room by 2:15. Nurse Judy will come for me when he gets here. How does my hair look?”
“Looks good. Excited?”
“Nervous. Even with my meds, it feels like my skin is going to split open.” Fear, plain and simple, raw nerves exposed like an aching tooth.
“It’ll be fine.” Heidi puts her arm around my shoulder.
“Does this sweater cover my butt? Jeans are so big.” I hike up my Levis.
“A belt would help.”
“A belt on jeans, can you imagine that? It doesn’t seem that long ago I eased them to my thighs, fell back onto the bed, shimmied them past my hips, sucked in my breath, and zipped up. I loved how I looked in those tight jeans.”
“Jeff probably did, too.” Heidi said.
“Yeah …now look at me.”
“You look fine, really.”
“Thanks.” I give Heidi a hug. She’s a good friend, but I can’t tell her I dread the visit, she’ll think I’m crazy.
Jeff charges to his feet when Nurse Judy and I come through the door of the visitors’ room. He holds out his arms. I stagger, my peripheral vision falls away. I feel dizzy, hot. Jeff’s face blurs, his smile, pain-filled eyes fragment, then blackness.
“Lu, Luanne, you all right?” Jeff catches me before I hit the linoleum. Nurse Judy takes my hand, turns my wrist, presses her finger on my vein as she tracks the second hand on her watch.
“Her pulse is racing. Let’s get her over to the couch.” Nurse Judy takes one arm, Jeff the other.
Slowly, I come back. “I’m okay, really …just a little too excited.” I turn toward Jeff, “Hi.”
“Hi.” He holds my hand, face ashen, beads of perspiration across his forehead.
“Sorry.” Damn, this is what I feared.
“You okay,
Chapter 12
T here are no mirrors. I’m not sure why. I smooth my hair. I’ve barely felt human, let alone attractive, in almost two months—good grooming and life in the disturbed ward are not compatible. Make-up, hair products, anything personal just isn’t allowed.
I close my eyes, imagine myself twirling in front of the mirror in a rainbow tiered crinoline, a skinny six-year-old, my bird legs disappear into huge black and white saddle shoes. At seven, a white organza Holy Communion dress made by my mother. A proud ten-year-old in a straw Easter bonnet and patent leather Mary Janes. And all the fads and fashions since then—a watch-plaid kilt with an oversized gold safety pin, knee socks and penny loafers, my school uniform, rolled up at the waist, a homecoming dress, burnt orange wool, with a carnation corsage pinned on the cowl neck, my first formal taffeta for the J-Hop, the green velvet prom dress that made me feel like a movie star. The homecoming queen finery and, finally, the wedding gown I designed myself, showing off my tiny waist, falling gracefully into a long train.
Today I imagine myself as I used to be. I have to, Jeff is visiting. I pick at the fuzzy pills on my emporium sweater. I haven’t felt attached to my body in quite some time, even before the hospital. I think my body started to break away during those long nights, sitting upright in a chair, Alexander’s moist head against my breast, my back aching with fatigue, my muscles tense with worry. When Alexander stopped shifting with pain, finally escaping into sleep, I tried to hold so very still, making my body his cradle. At first, it was by sheer will and necessity, now it’s automatic. Before I know it, I’m floating up against the ceiling.
I’m terrified. Seeing Jeff will demand me to be aware in a way I haven’t been since my breakdown. And the not knowing. Jeff is scheduled. Will Mom, Molly be waiting in the visitors’ room? I feel the panic rise.
“What time is he getting here?” Heidi says.
“Visit’s scheduled for 2:30. I’m not sure if my mom’s coming, but they told me Jeff should be in the visitors’ room by 2:15. Nurse Judy will come for me when he gets here. How does my hair look?”
“Looks good. Excited?”
“Nervous. Even with my meds, it feels like my skin is going to split open.” Fear, plain and simple, raw nerves exposed like an aching tooth.
“It’ll be fine.” Heidi puts her arm around my shoulder.
“Does this sweater cover my butt? Jeans are so big.” I hike up my Levis.
“A belt would help.”
“A belt on jeans, can you imagine that? It doesn’t seem that long ago I eased them to my thighs, fell back onto the bed, shimmied them past my hips, sucked in my breath, and zipped up. I loved how I looked in those tight jeans.”
“Jeff probably did, too.” Heidi said.
“Yeah …now look at me.”
“You look fine, really.”
“Thanks.” I give Heidi a hug. She’s a good friend, but I can’t tell her I dread the visit, she’ll think I’m crazy.
Jeff charges to his feet when Nurse Judy and I come through the door of the visitors’ room. He holds out his arms. I stagger, my peripheral vision falls away. I feel dizzy, hot. Jeff’s face blurs, his smile, pain-filled eyes fragment, then blackness.
“Lu, Luanne, you all right?” Jeff catches me before I hit the linoleum. Nurse Judy takes my hand, turns my wrist, presses her finger on my vein as she tracks the second hand on her watch.
“Her pulse is racing. Let’s get her over to the couch.” Nurse Judy takes one arm, Jeff the other.
Slowly, I come back. “I’m okay, really …just a little too excited.” I turn toward Jeff, “Hi.”
“Hi.” He holds my hand, face ashen, beads of perspiration across his forehead.
“Sorry.” Damn, this is what I feared.
“You okay,
Similar Books
