Music in the Night (20 page)

"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"I'm just waiting to see if he's still here. They claim," she said, widening her eyes and hoisting her eyebrows, "that they fired him yesterday."
"Who?"
"Garson Taylor, one of the attendants. He tried to rape me," Megan said.
"Really?"
"Of course, really," she snapped. "What do you think, I'm making it up? Well,
do
you?" she drove at me, her face full of fire, her eyes wide.
"No, I'm . . I'm sorry. I was just surprised by what you said."
"Well don't be surprised. Be alert. All the men here have one thing on their minds and you don't have to take two guesses to figure out what it is either," she said. "When they look at you, they're looking through your clothes."
"That's terrible."
"Tell me about it." She considered me a moment. "Maybe you were raped," she said. "And it was so traumatic, it caused you to forget everything. That's very common." She nodded, firmly convinced in her diagnosis.
I stopped eating and gazed at her. I started to shake my head.
"Why are you shaking your head? You said you don't remember anything. I bet that's it. Right, Lulu?" she asked the young girl. The small girl nodded.
"Yes, Megan," she said obediently. Megan looked satisfied.
"Her name isn't really Lulu. I named her that," Megan explained with a smile. "That's because she's a real lulu. Right, Lulu?"
The small girl laughed.
"My daddy's coming to see me today," she said.
"Oh, will you stop? She's been saying that for two years.
Her father doesn't even write her letters," Megan said. "You would think she'd understand, face reality by now."
"Yes, he does."
"Okay, Lulu. Believe what you want. Fathers are the biggest liars of all anyway," Megan said. "Can you remember your father?" she asked me.
"No," I said.
"He's the one who raped you then," Megan threw back at me.
I nearly choked on my eggs.
"I never said I was raped."
"Of course you didn't, but it's a very logical reason why you can't remember." She leaned over to whisper. "Be very careful after you've gone to bed. They all have keys to our doors," she said, leaning back, "that is how Garson Taylor got into my room. Fortunately, I was able to shout loudly enough to bring others. He claimed he wasn't even in my room. Can you imagine?"
She looked about nervously again and then turned back to me, her haunted eyes wide and full of alarm.
"If he's still here we're all in danger, especially a new girl like you. Watch the doctors, too," she added.
"The doctors? Why?"
"They like to touch you here all the time," she said, touching her small breasts, "and pretend it's necessary."
She stared at me and then bit down on her lower lip so hard, I thought she would draw blood.
"You'll be all right," she said. "We'll all be all right. Someday. Right, Lulu?"
"What? Yes. My daddy's coming today," she told me. "He's going to take me home."
"I'm happy for you," I said.
"Oh, spunks," Megan said. "Let's go to the rec room. We can listen to some music and talk."
"We can just leave and go there?" I asked.
"We can do anything we want," she declared. "We're paying the rent. At least you know this much about yourself, Laura: You're rich."
"I am?"
"Of course you are, stupid. It costs about forty thousand dollars a year to stay here."
I sat back, amazed.
"I didn't realize," I said. "I--"
"Just don't let any of them take advantage of you. You don't have to put up with any of it." She gazed at the door. "If he's still working here, I'm going to raise holy hell," she said. Then she gazed at my plate. "Finish your breakfast. We've got things to talk about," she ordered. "I've got to make you aware of all the dangers!"

11
Return to the Land
of the Living
.
I
didn't get the chance to spend time with

Megan after breakfast because as soon as I was finished and rose from the table, Mrs. Kleckner approached me to tell me Doctor Southerby was Waiting for me.

Megan seized my wrist as I turned to follow Mrs. Kleckner out of the cafeteria.
"He's the worst," she whispered, "because he's young and unmarried. Watch yourself."
I nodded as if to thank her for her warning and she relaxed her grip on me so I could walk after Mrs. Kleckner. We went to the right and down the corridor to an office on the left. A pleasant-looking dark-haired woman of no more than forty looked up from her desk and smiled as we entered. She wore a dark green dress and had pretty pearl earrings that matched a pearl necklace on a gold chain. She looked as perfectly put together as a mannequin in a showcase window. Not a strand of her hair was out of place, but she had a warmth to her smile that made me feel welcome.
"Mrs. Broadhaven, this is our new patient," Mrs. Kleckner declared.
"Yes. Doctor Southerby is waiting to see you, Laura," she said to me and rose from her desk.
Despite Megan's warning, I was eager to meet the doctor, eager to find out what was wrong with me and finally be cured.
"When you're finished here, maybe Mrs. Broadhaven will show you around the clinic," Mrs. Kleckner said, nodding at Doctor Southerby's secretary. Mrs. Kleckner's tone made it clear it wasn't a request as much as it was an order.
"I'll be very happy to," Mrs. Broadhaven said, apparently not bothered by the sharpness in Mrs. Kleckner's voice. She went to the door to the inner office, smiling at me as she turned and waited.
I took a deep breath and followed her. Hopefully, the answers to all my questions and the light to wash away the darkness lay behind that office door.
"This is our new patient, Doctor Southerby," she announced as soon as she stepped in.
Even though Megan had warned me, I was rather surprised at how young the doctor looked. He rose immediately from behind his dark cherry wood desk, a desk so large it looked like it was wrapped around him. Everything on it was neatly organized with folders in a neat pile and an open pad before him. On the wall behind him hung his framed diplomas and awards. There were two large windows behind his desk that looked out at the grounds. I saw the weeping willow trees I had seen silhouetted in the dark the night before. Everything looked green and plush today.
"Good morning," Doctor Southerby said. "Please. Come right in." His voice was deeper than I would have expected and he had a Southern accent. His light brown hair was trimmed short at the sides, but with a small pompadour at the front.
"Please," he said quickly, nodding at the chair in front of his desk, "make yourself comfortable. Thank you, Mrs. Broadhaven," he told his secretary.
She gave me a smile of reassurance and left, closing the door softly behind her. Doctor Southerby turned back to me.
He had turquoise eyes that radiated a warmth and friendliness that immediately put me at ease. His smile brightened them even more.
Not a very tall man, perhaps only five feet ten, he nevertheless projected a strong, firm demeanor with his shoulders back, his handshake assertive, definite. He had a firm, straight mouth and a taut jawline. In his dark gray suit, light blue shirt and matching tie with a jeweled tie clip, he appeared very distinguished and confident despite his youthful look.
He returned to his chair behind the desk.
"Did you get some rest last night?" he asked. "I always find it hard to sleep well in a new place, myself."
"I was so exhausted I didn't have time to think about it," I said and he laughed.
"Most likely, most likely," he said. "Well, let me introduce myself properly." He leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together. "I am Doctor Henry Southerby and I will be in charge of your case."
He spoke calmly, relaxed, while I felt like butterflies with their wings on fire were circling madly in my stomach. I could barely sit still,
"What is my case? Why am I here? What happened to me? Why can't I remember the simplest things about myself?" I blurted out all at once. "I couldn't even remember my real name! I still can't remember my surname."
The high notes of hysteria in my voice didn't seem to faze him. He simply nodded, gently.
"I can understand your anxiety," he said, "and I want to put you at ease as quickly as I can. That way, you'll recover faster. It would be best," he continued, "if you remember things on your own. My simply filling up the empty spaces won't be enough. For one, you might reject the information again and then we could be worse off than we are now."
"Reject the information? I don't understand," I said, shaking my head. The calmer he was, the more anxious I felt. "Why did I reject such important information about myself, my name, my family, where I live? It's terrifying. Am I crazy? Is that why I'm here? What's wrong with me?" I pursued, my voice so shrill it hurt my own ears.
"I assure you that what's wrong with you at the moment won't last. And once you are cured, there's very little chance this will happen again," he replied in a mellow voice. It didn't satisfy me, however.
"What will not happen? What do I have, a disease? What?" I asked. He couldn't talk fast enough for me.
"From what I understand about your situation, I feel safe in a preliminary diagnosis of psychogenic amnesia," he said, although he looked uncomfortable about committing himself so quickly.
"I know what amnesia is," I said, shaking my head, "but that other word--"
"Psychogenic simply means your amnesia probably isn't due to any organic mental disorder. There's no physical reason for you to be unable to remember things. You didn't suffer any injury to your brain; physical injury, that is. There are no drugs or alcohol involved. You're not an epileptic, and," he said with a smile, "you're not pretending to be forgetful."
"What happened then? What's caused this?"
"What's happened is you have experienced a very traumatic event, an event of such emotional and psychological magnitude that your brain has shut down its memory chambers to prevent you from suffering," he said softly, leaning over the desk toward me. "It's really a self-defense mechanism the mind employs and is not uncommon in situations such as yours.
"This trauma arose from an event that overwhelmed your coping mechanism. Another term for this today is dissociative amnesia, the inability to recall important personal information."
"What was it?" I asked, my heart pounding. "What was the traumatic event?"
"It's important you remember that on your own, Laura," he said.
"Laura, but Laura what? What's my full name?" I demanded. "Tell me."
He nodded.
"Your full name is Laura Logan," he said. Then he stared at me for a moment. "What does that do for you, hearing your full name? Do you remember any more about yourself? Close your eyes and repeat your name. Go on," he urged.
I did so and then I shook my head.
"I don't remember anything," I wailed. "I can't," I cried more desperately.
"You will," he promised me. "I'll take you back gradually until it all rushes into your consciousness again. If you're just patient and--"
I shook my head.
"I can't stand it!" I cried. "I look in the mirror and feel like I'm looking at someone else. It's horrible. I'm walking around on pins, and needles. My head keeps echoing with questions, over and over and--"
"Easy, Laura. Don't upset yourself," he said, but the tears were already flowing down my cheeks, burning as they traversed my face and dripped off my chin. I shook my head violently, shook it so hard, it revived the ache in my neck.
"No, no, no. I want to be cured
now! I want
to remember
now!
Tell me everything. Tell
me
why I'm like this!" I screamed at him.
He stood up.
"Easy, Laura. Please. You're just upsetting yourself and making it all that much more difficult for us to help you here,"
"I don't want to be here. I want to be. . where do I want to be? I don't even know that!" I shouted. I gazed down at my arms, the black and blue marks still vivid. "Look at me. What happened? Tell me everything! Please, tell me," I begged and then I rose and looked about the office, looked for an avenue of escape. I felt like running and running until I couldn't run anymore.
He was around his desk instantly and at my side. "Laura, relax now. Sit calmly. Come on," he said, putting his hand on my arm gently but firmly.
Megan's terrified face flashed before me.
"He's the worst," she whispered.
Who were these people who knew more about me than I knew about myself but kept it secret? What was going on?
"NO!" I screamed again. I pushed him away and then I heard a terrible ringing in my head. I pressed my palms to my ears. Someone was shouting
Laura.
There was water everywhere, water rushing over me until I couldn't hear my name anymore.
"N00000!" I cried and then, all went black.
I woke on a gurney in a treatment room someplace in the building. The walls and the ceiling were stark white. Mrs. Kleckner was at my side and Doctor Southerby was on a telephone, talking softly to someone when I opened my eyes.
"She's regaining consciousness, Doctor," Mrs. Kleckner declared. I started to sit up, but she put her hand on my shoulder. "Just relax for a while," she commanded. "Doctor?"
He cradled the receiver and approached.
"How are you feeling now, Laura?"
"My head hurts," I said with a grimace. The pain felt like a metal band being tightened from one temple to the other. "We'll give you something for that," he said.
"What happened?"
"You got too excited." He smiled. "You know how a circuit breaker works?"
I thought. Yes, I did know, but I had no idea why. "Yes."
"Well, the mind works the same way. When it gets overloaded, it shuts down. Now you see why I've got to get you to relax first before I can help you?" he asked. "I want you to learn to trust me, Laura. Only then can I help you, and I want to help you," he said firmly. He held my hand and gazed down at me, his eyes washing over my face and then fixing on mine. "Do you believe me?"
I nodded, but not with enough confidence to please him. He smiled nevertheless.
"In time you will and then you'll cure yourself, Laura. This unfortunate situation won't be long. I promise," he said. "Really." He patted my hand.
I wanted to believe him. He was saying the things I wanted to hear.
"Sit up now and take this pill," he said, indicating the pill Mrs. Kleckner was waiting to give me. She placed it in my mouth and gave me some water. I drank and swallowed.
"For now," Doctor Southerby continued, "I'd like you to return to your room, get some more rest, and then we'll talk again."
"I want to talk now," I insisted.
"I know you do, but I don't want to chance any recurrences of what just happened. You're very fragile right now, Laura, more fragile than you can imagine. You need to rest up a bit so you can go about your recovery with full strength. Trust me about this. I promise," he said, "you won't be here a minute more than you have to be." He nodded at Mrs. Kleckner.
"Try to stand up now, Laura," she said.
I sat up and my head began to spin so rapidly, I actually lost my breath for a moment and thought I was going to black out again.
"Easy, easy," Doctor Southerby said. "You better wheel her over," he told Mrs. Kleckner. Moments later they both eased me into a wheelchair. I lay my head back and felt myself being moved out of the treatment room. I kept my eyes closed all the way back to my room.
Once there, Mrs. Kleckner helped me into bed.
"Just rest," she said. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while."
"I
want to go back to Doctor Southerby's office and get my treatment," I moaned. "I want this to be over."
"You will go back," she said sternly, "but you heard the doctor. He wants you to be rested, stronger, otherwise he's just wasting his time and his time is very important. He doesn't only work here with the privileged. He works at another clinic, too."
"The privileged?"
What was privileged about being here, about being disturbed and sick? I wanted to ask. I tried to open my eyes, but whatever they gave me made my eyelids feel so heavy. In moments, I was asleep.
I woke when I felt my whole body shaking. Megan Paxton was at my bedside, tugging on my hand. She looked at the door and then back at me.
"What happened?" I muttered. My eyes felt like cobwebs had been built over them. My eyelids remained glued shut.
"They gave you something," she whispered. "You've got to be careful. One of them can come in here and rape you while you're asleep," she said. "They did that to me. Stay awake," she warned. "Or sleep with one eye open."
"I'm so tired," I muttered. She shook me again.
"Stay awake," she ordered.
"What are you doing in here?" I heard and forced my lids open enough to see Mrs. Kleckner in the doorway. "Come out of there immediately, Megan," she commanded, her hands on her hips.
"I'm just seeing how she is. What's the big deal?"
"You know you're not supposed to go into anyone else's room without permission from me. Now come out and let her rest, Meg.: 1. Now!" she insisted.
"Stay awake," she whispered to me as she left.
My eyes shut closed again and when I woke the next time, Megan's presence in my room seemed more like a dream. I felt groggy, but I wanted to get up and move about, so I lifted myself from the bed and went into the bathroom. I washed my face in water as cold as I could get it and that helped some. When I came out of the bathroom, I found Mrs. Kleckner waiting.
"I see you got yourself up. That's good. How do you feel?" she asked.
"Weak, but I don't want to sleep anymore," I added quickly, afraid she had another pill waiting.
"Very well. As long as you feel up to it, I'll show you about the facility myself then," she said.
"When do I see Doctor Southerby again?"
"Tomorrow," she said. "He had to leave the clinic for other appointments. If you're strong enough, you can go to the recreation room and meet some of the other patients. It's good for you to interact with other people. Doctor Southerby left strict orders about that. He doesn't want you hibernating in this room."
"I don't want to hibernate. I'd like to get some fresh air, too," I said.
"I'll see that one of the attendants takes you out before dinner," she told me.
"Dinner? What about lunch?" I asked. She laughed, a short laugh that sounded more like a cough.
"You slept through lunch. There's tea and crackers or cookies in the recreation room, if you like, and soft drinks in the refrigerator. Come along," she said and I started after her, my steps not as steady as I would have liked. She noticed and held my arm in the corridor.