Music in the Night (19 page)

"Good, you're awake," this new nurse said.
She went to the windows and when she turned her back to me, I saw she had a rather prominent birthmark at the base of her skull. Small hairs grew along its perimeter so that it looked like a large black bug had landed there. She opened the curtains wider to let in more sunlight. I could see clear blue sky.
She spun on me, her hands on her hips.
"I'm Mrs. Kleckner," she said. "I'm the head nurse here. Your bathroom has all that you need in it. You'll find a toothbrush, toothpaste, a new hairbrush, soap, and shampoo in the cabinet. Can you get up and give yourself a shower this morning or do I have to take you to the special bathroom for the disabled?"
"I think I can do it myself," I said.
She approached the bed.
"Hold out your hands," she ordered. "Go on."
I did what she asked and she watched them tremble and then turned them over and watched them again.
"Touch the tip of your nose," she commanded. "Do it," she said when I didn't move quickly enough.
After I had done that, she took my pulse, looked at my eyes and then stepped back.
"Do you remember why you were brought here? Do you remember how you were brought here?" she asked before I could answer the first question.
"I came in a car. There was another nurse named Clara. She said I had been with my
grandmother." I looked up. "The nurse kept calling me Lauren, but I don't think my name is Lauren," I said.
"Really? Then what's your name?"
I thought a moment, but I couldn't think of anything that sounded right.
"I know it's not Lauren," I said.
"That's nice. You know it's not Lauren. You know it's not Susan, too. And you know it's not Joyce and you know it's not Matilda, I bet," she rattled with a smirk. "You probably know you're not fifty or sixty or seventy names, but do you know how old you are?"
"How old? I can't remember," I said. "Why can't I remember my own age and my own name?"
My lips started to tremble.
She nodded as if confirming what she thought to be true.
"A shower is the way we begin the day. There are clothes for you in this package," she said, indicating what she had brought in with her. "Underthings, socks, a pair of shoes, a skirt, and a blouse. Other things are being brought for you today. First, I'll show you the cafeteria and you'll have breakfast. After that, you'll meet Doctor Southerby and have your first session. I understand you have some trauma on your arms and legs," she said and drew closer again.
She lifted the blanket away from me.
"Lower those pants," she ordered.
I started to do so and once again, I didn't move quickly enough to satisfy her. She finished lowering them herself and inspected the bruises on my thighs and my calves as well as my hips and ribs.
"You did take a beating," she remarked.
She lifted the shirt over my head so roughly, I cried out. "My arms, my shoulders!"
She held my arm up and inspected the black and blue marks. When she released it, I studied my hands and my forearms, too. My fingers looked scabby where the skin had been peeled away. What could I have done to myself?
"What happened to me?" I moaned, near tears.
"You'll live," she said dryly, lifting the right corner of her mouth so that it put a bulge into her cheek. "This will all go away in time."
"But I don't understand. How did this happen to me?" I asked her.
She didn't smirk exactly. She pressed her lips together, puffed her cheeks out a bit more, and made her eyes small.
"It's your responsibility to tell us," she said. "When you do, you'll be on your way to recovery."
"What's wrong with me?" I asked in a shrill voice. "Why can't I remember anything about myself? No one wants to tell me anything. Please!"
"The doctor will tell you all about that. My job is to get you ready and see after your basic needs first," she said calmly, clearly unmoved by my emotional outburst. Then she fixed her eyes on me. "I'll warn you now," she continued, stepping back and folding her thick arms under her heavy bosom. Her elbows looked dry, the skin scaly like a fish. "This is not a five-star hotel. I don't want to hear complaints about the food or the service or the size of your room. I don't want to hear how we don't have enough to do to entertain you. I'm a nurse, not some camp counselor for wealthy, spoiled children."
"Am I a wealthy, spoiled child?" I fired back. I thought she almost smiled.
"That's something you'll have to learn for yourself. The plan is for you to make your own discoveries about yourself, with our help, of course. That's how you get better. My telling you everything I know about you doesn't help you."
"I don't understand. Where am I?" I asked.
"Where are you? You're in a mental clinic, my dear," she said.
"A mental clinic?"
"One of the best in the state, if not
the
best, and very exclusive, too. Now, take your shower. be back in twenty minutes and I expect to see you dressed and ready for breakfast. There's no reason why you can't do it all for yourself. I have a few patients on this floor who really do need my assistance and I must get to them now."
My lips started to tremble. I thought my whole body would soon start to shudder uncontrollably. She saw something was about to happen and stepped closer.
"Get hold of yourself," she ordered. She put her hands on my upper arms and shook me. "I don't permit any of my patients to sit in their rooms and feel sorry for themselves. The quicker you get better, the quicker you get out of here," she said, "and make room for someone else who really needs us. Shower," she concluded, pivoted on her soft shoes, and marched out of the room, closing the door behind her.
I took a deep breath.
Remember, I
chanted.
Try, try to remember. Please. If you remember, you can go home.
I squeezed my eyes closed and searched my brain, but it was as if my shouts for help were locked in a small part of my mind, shut up and smothered. I looked down at my hands and my feet, seeking some mark, something that would stir a memory. Nothing happened.
I sighed with frustration, rose, took off the shirt and pants, and went into the bathroom. There was a mirror over the small sink. I stared at my face, bringing my fingers to my lips, my nose, even touching my eyes. I was like a blind person trying to identify someone through my fingers, but what I felt, what I found rang no bells. I leaned in to look very closely at my reflection. I was looking at the face of a complete stranger. It was as if I had been dropped into someone else's body.
"Who are you?" I asked the image in the mirror and waited.
Suddenly, I heard a roaring in my ears. A memory flashed, the memory of holding a seashell to my ear and listening.
The ocean is in there,
someone was saying. I sensed I was just a little girl.
Look inside. Do you see it?
I closed my eyes. There were smiling faces and there was laughter and there was the ocean in the seashell. Everyone who looked at me smiled.
"Who am I?" I screamed at them, but they just continued to smile, "WHO AM I?"
I directed my screaming at the image in the mirror and the image just screamed back. I don't know how long that went on before Mrs. Kleckner returned. She spun me around with those strong hands of hers and then she slapped me sharply across the face and I stopped.
"What are you doing? You frightened some of my other patients."
"I don't remember my name," I wailed. "I don't know who that is in the mirror. I'm afraid. I feel like I'm dangling in space. It's terrifying!" I cried.
"Don't be ridiculous. You're safe here. You're not dangling. Now, didn't I tell you to take a shower and get dressed? You'll see the doctor this morning and your therapy will begin. Now, get into the shower," she said and reached over to turn it one "Go on, get in and stop this nonsense now. No one is going to pamper you. You have to cure yourself and help yourself."
She glared at me.
"It will go better for you if you cooperate," she said, not cloaking her threats.
I ground the tears away and stepped into the shower, adjusting the water so it wasn't as scalding hot as she had it. She waited a moment and then left me alone. '
Despite the shower, I felt deeply exhausted after drying off. It took great effort to dress, get on my socks and shoes. Where did this clothing come from? I wondered. Was it mine? Everything did fit well.
The door opened again and Mrs. Kleckner stood there inspecting me.
"Good," she said. "Come along. I'll show you the eating facilities now and tomorrow morning, you'll get yourself up and to breakfast on your own, understand? Do you understand?" she repeated when I didn't answer quickly enough
"Yes," I said.
"This way." She turned and I joined her. We walked down the corridor toward the stairway. A tall, dark-haired girl was there ahead of us. She didn't glance our way, but instead bounced happily down the steps, waving her hands as if she were sweeping cobwebs away from her head.
Mrs. Kleckner sighed deeply and shook her head, but she said nothing. We started down the stairs. The dark-haired girl was already down and away. I was moving too slowly to satisfy Mrs. Kleckner, so when we reached the bottom of the stairs, she seized my hand and jerked me along.
"It's time to wake up," she declared and forced me to stride step for step alongside her until we reached a large doorway, from which I could hear dishes and silverware clinking and voices in a low but continuous murmur, punctuated by some laughter. When we turned into the doorway and entered the cafeteria, everyone stopped talking and looked at us.
There were a little more than a dozen people, all looking relatively my age, whatever that exact age was. The dark-haired girl who had been sweeping the air around her as she descended the steps broke into a long, shrill laugh. She was at the counter getting her food from a sweet-looking elderly lady in a white uniform.
"Quiet," Mrs. Kleckner cried. The dark-haired girl stopped with such abruptness, I couldn't help but be impressed with Mrs. Kleckner's authority. All eyes were on us now. There was a boy close by who didn't look much more than ten or eleven, gazing at me with a small smile on his lips. Sitting at his table was a tall, very thin girl with hair the color of ripe apricots. She had big dark eyes and a mouth with soft, perfect lips. Her cheekbones were clearly visible under her tissuelike skin, which was pale and thin enough to pass for transparent. I saw how thin her arms were, too. Despite her fragile appearance, she sat straight and firm and looked at me with a soft, friendly air.
Across from her, his eyes down, was a handsome young man with hair as dark and shiny as black pearl. He wore it brushed neatly on the sides and long down the back of his neck. For a moment I thought of someone else. A name almost appeared, but when this boy flashed a quick, timid look at me, I forgot the face in my memory and smiled back at him.
"We have a new resident," Mrs. Kleckner said.
"Hooray for her," a chubby boy with blond hair cried. The two boys at his table laughed, but then stopped as if they could turn it on and off like a television set, their faces moving from comedy to tragedy in a split second.
"That's enough of that, Carlton," Mrs. Kleckner chastised. He laughed silently, his cheeks jiggling, and then he suddenly looked as if he were going to cry. I glanced at Mrs. Kleckner, who didn't seem to notice or care.
"Her name," she continued, "is Laura?'
I turned and looked at her, seeing a small smile on her face. All along she knew I had been right. The other nurse had mistakenly called me Lauren and not Laura, but I had been unable to remember. However, even though I sensed Laura was my real name, I couldn't connect it with anything else, especially a surname.
"I want you all to make her feel at home here," Mrs. Kleckner added.
"Home sweet home," someone in the back muttered.
The dark-haired girl by the counter suddenly spun around and then spun around again as if she were dancing a ballet. One of the attendants nearby moved quickly to her side and seized her hand. He spoke to her quietly and she gazed at the floor.
When I looked to the right, I noticed a female attendant hand-feeding a boy who looked at least twelve or thirteen. She encouraged him to feed himself, but he merely stared ahead, opening his mouth and chewing mechanically as she scooped the food into it and then wiped his lips.
"Go to the counter and get what you want," Mrs. Kleckner said. "There's juice, cereals, and eggs, if you like. Mrs. Anderson is our cook. She can make some special things for you if your requests are reasonable and she has enough notice. You can sit anywhere you like," she added.
I crossed the cafeteria, feeling all eyes upon me. The dark-haired girl had been moved along and sat with the attendant at her side. She sipped on a glass of orange juice and stared ahead.
"Hello, Laura," Mrs. Anderson said. She had a wonderfully happy smile, her eyes bright and cheery. "Would you like some scrambled eggs this morning?"
"Yes," I said. "Thank you."
I suddenly realized that I was very hungry. I chose grapefruit juice and plucked a roll from the basket. Mrs. Anderson scooped the eggs onto a plate and put a piece of melon beside them.
"Enjoy your first breakfast with us," she said.
"Thank you."
I took the plate, put it on my tray, and turned. Many of the other residents were still staring at me, but a number had gone back to their own breakfasts and conversations. Some looked absolutely terrified that I would stop at their tables as I made my way through the room.
"Sit here. You'll be safe," a pretty red-haired girl said. There was another, shorter and youngerlooking girl with her. The younger girl wore a jeans skirt and a frilly white blouse. Her blond hair was tied in two long, thick pigtails.
"Thank you," I said and took the empty seat at their table.
"My name's Megan Paxton," the red-haired girl said. She had a button nose and a small mouth. Her eyes darted about as if she expected trouble.
"I'm Laura," I said, confident of that little bit of information.
"Laura what?" the younger girl asked. She looked like a doll because of her tiny features.
"I can't remember my full name," I said. "I can't remember anything," I admitted, as if that were a crime and this was a jail instead of a clinic.
"Around here, that's an advantage," Megan said. "You're lucky," she said dryly. "I can't forget anything. When did you arrive?"
"Some time last night. I think," I said "It all still seems fuzzy in my head.
^-
I drank my juice.
Megan darted her eyes about again. I began to look in the directions she was surveying to see if there was something I should notice, too.