Asylum (27 page)

            Before
Chloe could think of anything to say, Diana Adams marched past her.  She
walked, or stomped, with such fierceness, that Chloe was sure she could hear
the muffled clack of those heels as she went.

            Her
mother was reading the wall as she walked, Chloe could tell by how she slowed
as she got closer.  She stopped behind where Dr. Willard stood scribbling away
and barked a short angry laugh.

            “Signing
your work now, are you?” she called back to Chloe.

           
Too
much
, warned the sane voice, the one that made all the rules,
Too much
at once, you’re not able to handle all this.  Leave.  Leave now.

           
She
hates you,
hissed the other
, hated you when you were just a red
screaming baby and it’s grown since then.

            Chloe
agreed with them both.  Still she couldn’t move, her feet had fused with the
carpet.  She watched the show unwillingly, stuck, growing smaller and smaller. 
Sam was talking now.

            “-and
I saw the girl do it, so I’m telling you, Chloe’s got nothing to do with this. 
She was just trying to help,” Sam’s voice was angry, loud.  Dr. Willard seemed
to slowly lose his focus on the wall and realize that another person had walked
onstage.  He stared at the woman absentmindedly, probably trying to detach
himself from the puzzle of names and how they fit together and remember the
words of introduction.  She saved him the trouble.

            “Diana
Adams,” her mother’s hand shot out, demanding formality.  “I’m Chloe’s
mother…”  She glared at him expectantly.

            Dr.Willard
grasped her fingertips lightly.

            “
Dr. James
Willard…psych department,” he said.

            “I
see.  So you’re Chloe’s psychologist here at school then?”  Her eyes focused on
the curling wax moustache first and slowly moved up to the black plaster hair
and downward to his respectable penny loafers.

            “I…well…
in a manner of speaking.  But she’s equally my student as I am her
psychologist…and teacher,” Dr. Willard smiled.

            “And
you’re documenting this?” Debra continued.

            “Of
course!” exclaimed Dr. Willard, mistaking her meaning entirely.  “Yes, it’s
really quite an impressive assembly of names in my corner of the field.  She
must know something!  The girl, I mean.  I’ve seen that symbol before, often. 
She must know what it means.  A group, I’ll wager.  A secret society of some
sort.  This is amazing!  The kind of discovery that will really make them sit
up in my field!  I’ve always suspected something like this, but to actually
have some proof…well it’s…it’s thrilling!”

            Diana
Adams sniffed.  Chloe had long ago decided her sniff was audible disdain.

            Chloe
took a few unwilling steps towards the trio.  Some vague notion of trying to
dispel the scene unfurled against the howling demands of all her voices to
leave, to get out, to run anywhere but there.

            “Is
there someone in charge here?  Someone with some notion of reality that I can
speak with?” demanded Diana.

            Sam
tossed her unused sponge into the bucket and crossed her arms, fixing Diana
with the sarcastic smirk Chloe already knew better than the back of her hand.

            “Nobody
here but us crazies, Chloe’s mom!  Why don’t you go somewhere where you’re
wanted…like uhhhh…I don’t know…is there a social club for witches?  Try Salem. 
Or you could just go to Hell.”

            Chloe
felt her panic rise up and grasp at her throat, effectively closing it.  She was
going to hyperventilate.  She felt a sudden pang of empathy for Jen. 
Run!
 
The sane part demanded.

            She
wouldn’t run, that would look bad, but she would leave.  She would remove
herself long enough to calm down, and if Diana Adams left in the interim, so
much the better.

            “Clo!”
Sam called at her retreating back.  Chloe threw up her hand, holding one finger
up as she went, the universal sign for ‘just give me a minute’.  She could hear
the carpet being stomped to dust behind her as her mother followed.  She walked
faster.

            Diana
Adams caught up with her in the lobby.  Her hand clamped Chloe’s shoulder in a
vise grip.  Determined not to fall under a downpour of accusations, Chloe spun
and ripped herself away.

            “Why
didn’t you go home?” she demanded.

            “I
was worried!  I told you I was worried, and it turns out I was right!  You’re
starting all over again with it, aren’t you?  Same story, new town.” Diana
hissed.

            “What
do you want?” Chloe asked miserably.

            “I
stayed…I stayed because I wanted you to listen to me.  I wanted to talk to
you…but not with that boy around.  He’s not good for you.  He’s controlling
you, using you.  He’s trying to turn you against your family.  We’re the only
people that really care about you, and they only really want one thing at this
age…but you haven’t figured that out yet have you?”

            “Seth
wants…to be a forester, or maybe a hockey player…is that what you mean?” Chloe
smiled innocently, poking at her.  This was the same old dance…slap for slap…it
was shocking how quickly she fell back into it.

            “Cute. 
Very cute, little girl,” Diana whispered threateningly, “You know what I mean.”

            Chloe
shrugged.

            “Come
home,” Diana demanded.

            “Because
you miss me so much?” Chloe forced a laugh.  “I always knew, deep down, that I
was your favorite.”

            Her
mother nodded slowly, faking acceptance.  She put on her hurt face, it was
another step in the dance.

            “If
you want to blame me for all your problems, I understand.  That’s what children
do after all.  I’m not perfect, I know that…but I have tried.  Maybe you’ll
understand someday, when you’ve got children.  You want the best for them, and
it breaks your heart when you see them going down the wrong path.”  Diana gazed
at the floor…seemingly sad.

           
Stay
strong
, warned sanity.

           
But
she wants her mommy to love her soooo much, doesn’t she?
laughed the other.

            “I’m
fine…really.  I’m okay here…I like it,” Chloe insisted.

            “If
you come home, we’ll try harder,” Diana promised,  “We’ll go to counseling
together…as a family.  If your father hadn‘t left-- if he hadn’t…he was a sick
man, Chloe.  A sick, crazy man, and I couldn’t help him.  No one could.  And
when he left, he was so far into his own world that I think it was the safest
thing for all of us. You were so young, I didn’t think it could have affected you. 
I didn’t want to believe that you were the same.  It’s impossible that you
could remember, you were just too…too young, I didn’t want to see it.  I didn’t
want to go through it again.  And why you?  Your sisters saw it, they remember
him.  And they’ve always been so well-adjusted….”

            What
has started to melt inside Chloe instantly refroze.

            “And
I must have been faking, because they’re such wonderful perfect geniuses…I must
have just wanted to find a way to get attention!” Chloe filled in.

            Diana’s
face reddened, whether it was from rage or embarrassment, Chloe couldn’t tell.

            “Come
home,” Diana asked again.

            “No,”
Chloe decided.

            “And
you’re determined not to come home for Christmas?” Debra asked.

            “Determined,”
Chloe agreed.

            “Will
you come home for the summer?  I have things I want to tell you. Things about
your father, stuff I should have told you a long time ago, but I thought I was
doing what was in your best interest.”

            Chloe
stared at her mother for a long time.  There was so much she could have said. 
Her mother watched her, that plastic face of hers unreadable.  When she finally
spoke, she did it without thinking, without measuring her words.

            “I
love you,” she said in a low voice, “I don’t always like you, but I love you. 
We went wrong somewhere.  Sometimes…I think it’s my fault.  Most of the time I
think it’s yours…but I love you.  It wasn’t all bad.  Not every day.  There are
times when I see you in me.  Things that you taught me.  Times when I stand up
for myself…”

            Diana
nodded.

            “Are
you hungry?” she asked.  “It’s so isolated up here, so small.  I think I saw a
restaurant in town when I was driving around the campus.  It had a sign that
said “Eat” outside it, so I think it was a restaurant.”

            “This
is the U.P. Mom,” Chloe replied, “We don’t have Applebee’s’.  We’ve got ‘the
Eat’ and ‘Good Food” and “Eat Here”, and they all serve pasties.”

            “Can
I buy you a pastie then?”

           
Chloe wondered
if it was one of those times.  One of those junctures where some seemingly
small decision might end up changing the course of a person’s life.  The two
women stared at one another.  To Chloe, it was the chance (maybe) to sit across
the table from one another as equals, as women.  Either that, or to pick up the
weight again.  The burden of being the daughter of a woman with something to
prove to the world.   For Chloe, the metronome of decision swung slowly…back
and forth, back and forth.  It froze momentarily, dead center, and then fell
heavily to one side.

            “I
have somewhere I’m supposed to be right now.  I’ve got to go.  I’m late,” Chloe
said.  She began backing towards the doors.

            “You’ll
come home for the summer though and you‘ll call, once a week at least?” Debra
repeated.

            “I’ll
come home for the summer.  I won’t tell you I’ll stay, I’ll come home. BUT…you
have to tell me about Dad.  I want to know about him.  I’ve got to go now,
really, I’m late.” Chloe said, backing towards the doors.

            Outside
it was snowing.  Chloe walked, not making any decision on a destination.  The
roads were deserted.  She had no coat, just the heavyweight BHC hooded
sweatshirt she had planned on wearing to the game, and her new hat. 

            She
stuffed her hands into the front pocket of the hoodie and laced her fingers
together to keep them warm.  She followed the sidewalk north of Kirkbride,
passing Goodman-Harker Hall and then past darkened buildings used for
classrooms and offices, heading back towards the center of campus.

            So
Mel was possessed by a ghost, she admitted to herself in the dark.  It could be
that in helping with researching the building, she had run across some of the
history of other asylums, maybe even run across a name or two…unlikely but
possible.  Combine that with drinking and maybe…maybe…but no.  No.  Could Sam
have brought Mel and Jen into the library basement, to help look through the
collection there, done it without telling her?  But why would she do that?  To
scare her?  The only other logical possibility, right?  Sam concocted the whole
thing.  A set-up to scare Chloe back into foam-at-the-mouth insanity.

            The
thought stopped Chloe‘s feet.  She shook her head violently and forced herself
to resume walking.  That would be paranoia.  It would be really unhealthy to
think that way.  Mel was possessed by whatever was still walking around
Kirkbride Hall, unseen.  That, she had to admit, was what was most logical. 
They knew it wanted to communicate with them.  That’s why they were spending so
much time trying to figure it out.  Or, really, having Jen and Melanie work on
it, because she and Sam were spending most of their spare time in the basement
of the library, and now, the two researches were linked.  The name George
Townsend…first in that old newspaper article Jen had given her, and then on
their list from Dr. Willard.  An escaped patient that had tried to burn down
their hall.  He was the likeliest suspect for the ghost.  She had been afraid
in the old bell tower, when she and Sam were playing with the Ouija board, and
even after that, when the writing appeared on the walls, but since then, since
they had given him a name and a story, she hadn’t really felt any fear.  Even
with the little things that had happened in the room.  The lights, things
falling off shelves, it didn’t seem malicious, just a reminder that he was
there, that he wanted to be known.  But possession on the other hand…well that
was bad…or maybe, desperate? Was he able to posses her because she was drunk,
or was it because she was using the Ouija board, or did he need both?  He could
have done it to either of them then, couldn’t he?  Back in the bell tower, they
were drinking vodka and talking and playing Ouija, why didn’t he do it then? 
Had something changed?  Was there something that was driving him harder, making
him more desperate to be understood?

            “Understand!”
she whispered out loud.  That was what it had said.  Understand, it had
demanded.  Something about waiting too, right?  Something had changed,
something made it more determined.  Or maybe they just weren’t moving fast
enough, because what could really change for the dead?  How could the efforts
of the living really affect them?  There was the fact that his name had shown
up on their list just before the incident.  In fact, when she thought about it,
it seemed more than logical to assume that about the same time they discovered
the name on their list, Mel and Jen were playing Ouija.  It could always be
coincidence, of course.