Music in the Night (26 page)

14
Out of the Shadows
.
My mind wandered all through dinner that

night. I kept drifting back to the memory of walking with my little sister on the beach toward the boat where my twin brother was waving, beckoning. The images burst like flashbulbs in the backdrop of my empty and dark mind: a tiny smile, a lobster trap being pulled up from the bottom of the sea, castles in the sand, starry nights on the beach, and the deep voice of a man I knew must be my father reading, reciting. It sounded like a chant, and then the woman I knew must be my mother singing a lullaby. My early memories mingled with later ones in a hodgepodge of faces, voices, and sights. I felt like I had fallen into a giant crossword puzzle. I was just another letter searching for the others that joined me to an entire word: family. The letters spun around and around in my head until they spelled out a name.

"What's that?" Lawrence asked. Everyone stopped talking and looked at me.
I turned to him.
"Her name is May."
"Whose name?" Lulu asked.
"My little sister. Her name is May," I said more enthusiastically. "I just can't think of my brother's--"
"Easy," Lawrence said, reaching to touch my hand. "Don't try to remember too much at once."
I looked at his concerned face and nodded.
"It must be exciting for you, though," Mary Beth said, "regaining your past, your identity. Pretty soon, it will all come back to you."
"Yes." I nodded. "Yes, it will. Doctor Southerby was right."
I finished my dinner quickly because I had let most of it get cold while I sat there thinking. After dinner we usually went to the rec room to watch television, read, or play board games. This evening I didn't feel like doing any of those things. I was too excited by the closeness of my memories. I just wanted to sit in a corner by myself and struggle with images and words until I put together more of the puzzle.
Mary Beth, feeling sorry for Lulu, spent more time with her, playing the games with her that Megan used to play.
Lawrence sat across from me reading
A Tale of Two Cities.
He read a lot, and when he talked about some of the books he read, I remembered having read them, too.
"You must have been a good student," he remarked, "to have remembered all the characters."
Now I wondered. Was I a good student? Where did I go to school? Who were my friends? What did I want to become? Not having the answers to the simplest of questions had become more than an irritation. I sat there feeling as if an explosion might happen any time in my mind and send me rushing back to my past. I guess I looked like a hen about to lay an egg, because Lawrence suddenly looked up from his book and laughed.
"I wish you could see the expression on your face, Laura. You look so poised, so tense sitting forward like that. You look like you might jump up and yell 'Eureka!" "
"It's the way I feel. The images keep floating by, circling, circling, drawing closer. I can hear my mother's voice, my father's, too, and I'm beginning to see their faces. It's like a continually growing light is bringing them out of the darkness. Does that make any sense?"
"Yes," he said. "Actually, it makes a lot of sense, Laura. You're one of the really lucky ones here. You're going to get better," he said, "and very soon," he added, not without a little sadness in his voice.
"So will you."
"Yes, I will," he said. "I'd like to meet you again on the outside and do something . . . normal, like take you to a movie or go dancing. Something."
"Me, too," I said, smiling, "but who knows where I live? Maybe it's hundreds, thousands of miles from where you live."
"Distance wouldn't matter to me." He looked at me intently, his eyes burning bright.
Noticing the way he gazed at me made me wonder if I had had a boyfriend before my accident. I knew Lawrence would be disappointed, but that wasn't what kept me from remembering. I realized it had to be something else. But what? Why did my heart start to pound just at the idea?
Suddenly Mary Beth got up and came over to us. One of the younger girls had been talking to her and what she said made her look unhappy.
"Denise says she overheard Billy and another attendant talking about Megan. She says they said Megan's mother is having her transferred to a real nuthouse. From the way they described it, it doesn't sound nice. They called her a straitjacket case." She looked back. "Lulu's very upset. She heard most of it. Now she's just sitting there sucking her thumb. I don't know what to do. I don't want her to end up in the Tower, too."
"Poor kid," Lawrence said. "And poor Megan." "When does she stop being a victim?" I asked aloud.
Lawrence fixed his eyes on me thoughtfully for a moment. "When she wants to," he said.
"You think she wants to be like she is?" Mary Beth asked him angrily.
"I've been doing a lot of reading lately about some of this. Megan feels responsible for what happened to her. She blames herself and she looks for sympathy. It's all she knows how to do at the moment," he said. "The doctors have got to make her see what happened to her was not her fault."
"Maybe you're talking about yourself," Mary Beth snapped, her eyes furious.
He gazed up at her.
"Maybe," he admitted and then looked at me. "Maybe I'm talking about all of us."
I shuddered and looked around at all the other patients. Someone from the outside sticking their head in the doorway to gaze at us might not easily understand how troubled most of us were. For the moment, everyone looked as normal as anyone on the outside--playing cards, games, watching television and laughing, talking, and reading.
It struck me how difficult it was to know about someone simply by looking at them. Maybe it took years and years before anyone really knew anyone. Lawrence was growing more and more attached to me, but what if all that I remembered would devastate him? What if I were exactly like the people he despised? Would my true self, my identity, come rushing back over me and wipe away any identity I had established with him? He and I were truly strangers, a pair of lost souls who happened to meet for a while and soon had to return to our bodies, and those bodies might not be so attracted to each other afterward, I thought.
"I feel like going outside," I said and stood up.
Mary Beth and Lawrence looked at each other and then smiled.
"What? Why are you two looking at me like that?"
"You can't go outside now," Mary Beth said. "The doors are locked, and if you tried to open them, the alarms would go off."
"We
are
prisoners here," I moaned. "All I want to do is walk in the garden, look up at the stars, feel the night air.
What's so terrible about that? Why won't they let us out at night?"
"It's dark," Mary Beth said. "They can't keep watch over you as easily."
I flopped back into my chair, sullen, my arms wrapped around me.
"I could get you outside," Lawrence whispered. Mary Beth widened her eyes.
"No, Lawrence. You'll get into big trouble."
"How?" I asked.
"The cafeteria staff is gone by now. They go in and out through a side entrance off the kitchen. It's not locked and there's no alarm on it."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
He hesitated and then leaned toward me.
"I did it once. I thought I was going to run away, but the moment I stepped out the door, I froze," he confessed. We were silent a moment.
"I'm going back to Lulu," Mary Beth said. The conversation was obviously frightening her. Lawrence watched her return to the table before he continued.
"I know how she feels. When darkness falls and the doors are locked, the outside of the building feels and looks like the outside world. It's as if the boundaries of this place shrink. She's not ready to return, so she's even afraid of the thought of going out at night," he explained.
"You know a lot about everyone, Lawrence. You could study and become a doctor yourself," I said. I really meant it. He blushed at the compliment.
"It's just that I spend a lot of time in the library. Most of the people here don't know what's available." He leaned toward me again. "There's even a book by the head doctor, Doctor Scanlon," he said.
"Causes of Family Dysfunction.
After I read it, I thought he was using my family as his resource material for the book."
I knew he was waiting for me to comment, but I couldn't stop this feeling of restlessness. It felt like a hive of bees was buzzing inside me. I had to see the stars, feel the night air.
"Will you take me to the kitchen?" I asked finally. "Really?"
"I want to go outside and look up at the stars. I think it might help me. There's something about the stars. . . . Something that's teasing my memory," I explained. "It would mean a lot to me."
He grew serious.
"All right," he said after a moment's thought, "we'll do it." He gazed at the attendants. "You go out first so we don't look suspicious. Go to the bathroom, wait a minute, and then come out. be down the hail and if it's all clear to the cafeteria, I'll wave you on. Are you sure you want to do this? They could send you or me or both of us upstairs and you know what that could mean," he added.
"I don't want to get you into trouble, Lawrence. Maybe you should just tell me where it is instead of showing me."
"No," he insisted. "I want to do this for you. Go ahead. Go to the bathroom and give me a minute."
I still hesitated. He nodded toward the door, urging me on. I looked at the attendants and then rose as quietly as I could. Nevertheless, one of the attendants gazed at me as I approached the door. I smiled at her and mouthed the word "bathroom." She smiled back at me and I left the room. I waited just as Lawrence had told me and then I stepped out of the bathroom. The hallway was empty, but up toward the cafeteria, Lawrence appeared, stepping out of a doorway. He gestured for me to hurry.
I practically ran to him and we went through the doorway and then into the cafeteria. All the lights were out now, but there was enough of a glow from the lights outside to silhouette all the tables and chairs so we didn't bump into anything and make any noise. Lawrence moved quickly to the kitchen doors, then held up his hand for me to stop and be still as he listened. He slowly opened the doors.
There was a small light on over the stove. From what we could see, there was no one around.
"This way," he whispered. We walked through the kitchen to the pantry and then to a small hallway. "That's it," he said, nodding at a metal door at the end of the hallway.
"Thank you," I said. I approached the door slowly and then looked back at him.
"They're going to start looking for you soon, Laura. When they don't find you in the bathroom, there's going to be trouble."
"If they ask, tell them I went to my room for something," I said. "I won't be long."
"I'd like to come with you," he said, but he seemed incapable of taking another step forward. "It's just that . ."
"It's all right. You've done enough, Lawrence. Go back before you're missed, too. I'll be fine," I said.
I reached for the door. When I opened it, I hesitated, afraid there might be an alarm he didn't know about, but nothing happened except the cool night air came rushing in at me.
"If you don't come right back--"
"I will. I promise," I said.
I could see that he was shaking. He wanted to pierce that invisible border so much. I stepped out and closed the door behind me quickly to end his suffering as much as to give myself the courage. For a moment, I simply stood there, listening to the sounds of the night. Then I walked away from the building so I could get away from all the lights.
It was a night filled with stars, clear and sharp so that the constellations were easy to locate. My eyes traced the length of the Big Dipper. The mere sight of the luminous dots sparkling above me took my breath away. I had to sit. I didn't even notice the coolness anymore. Words, pictures, and thoughts were rushing at me like shooting stars themselves, approaching and then veering away just when I was about to
understand something or see something clearly.
I closed my eyes and sat back, my arms stretched out, my hands open, palms up, waiting to be touched, to accept my identity and everything that would follow. I thought I felt another hand in mine and I could hear a voice, a young man's voice, whispering, his lips so close I could almost feel them brushing against my ear.
I moaned. His face began to rise out of the black pit of forgetfulness, first his eyes and then his lips and then--
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I heard and opened my eyes to see Billy standing there, smoking a cigarette. He had a wry smile on his face. "Huh?"
"Nothing," I said.
"How did you get out here?" he asked sharply.
"I just wanted to see the stars," I said. I started to stand and he stepped toward me, flicked his cigarette, and continued to move until he was between me and the building.
"Tell me how you got out," he demanded.
"I just found a door that wasn't locked and walked out," I said. He was close enough so that I could see his eyes narrow suspiciously.
"Just found a door, huh? Are you sure you didn't come out here to meet someone? Huh? Someone named Arnie by any chance?"
"What? Who?" I said, shaking my head.
"Arnie's had his eye on you."
"I'm not meeting anyone. I don't even know who Arnie is," I insisted and tried to go around him, but he stepped quickly into my path.
"I know how you young girls can get, locked up like this, away from your boyfriends," he continued, drawing closer. I retreated a few steps. "Arnie's a joke. I know how to treat my girls." The right corner of his mouth rose into an impish, lusty smile.
He reached out and put his hands on my waist.
"Let me show you," he said, pulling me toward him and bringing his lips toward my mouth. I turned away just in time and started to struggle as his hands moved over my ribs toward my breasts.
"Let me go!"
"Come on. There's nothing really wrong with you," he said, trying to get me to turn my mouth to his. "You're the prettiest girl here. I've been watching you ever since you arrived here, and I know you've been looking at me, too. Come on," he urged, cupping my breast with one hand while the other lifted my skirt.
I squirmed and struggled.
"If you don't cooperate, I'll turn you in," he threatened. "I'll get you and whoever helped you into big trouble. You'll end up in a straitjacket like Megan. Stop fighting," he insisted. "Stop it!"
I was afraid so I stopped squirming and his hand moved up my leg, over my panties, his fingers tracing the trim along the edge and then he lifted them away. I sobbed as he ran his fingers over me.
"You're sweet," he said, putting the tip of his tongue in my ear.
"Please," I pleaded.
"I'm not going to hurt you. You'll like this," he said, moving me back to the bench. I could sense he was undoing his trousers with his left hand as his right continued to move over my breast and then moved to undo the buttons of my blouse, Slipping in to struggle with my bra.
"You're beautiful, so beautiful," he muttered.
I started to cry and to pull away again.
"Laura, don't make me angry," he said, stopping my resistance.
Suddenly, both of his hands were under my skirt. He pulled my panties down as he nudged me onto the bench. I was afraid to scream. I thought I would faint and then . . . someone whispered my name. Although the voice wasn't loud, it was close.
"Laura!" Billy froze, still holding his hands on my thighs. "Laura, you better come back inside." "Who the hell's that? Lawrence?"