Self-Defence

'Desk.'

'At your desk. Good. Now tell me what you're doing at your desk.'

She tightened her face; then it loosened very slowly.

'Simkins… Manufacturing… accounts receivable.'

'Doing the books on Simkins Manufacturing. Is it a big job?'

Right finger.

'A big accounting job. How do the books look?'

Pause. Her brows knitted. 'Sloppy.'

'Sloppy.'

Right finger.

'But that doesn't bother you, because you're just watching it, you're not experiencing it.'

Her brow relaxed.

'Good. Do you want to stay there for a while, working?'

Left finger. Smile.

'No?'

'Boring.'

'Okay, let's go to another year. Take a deep breath, count to three, and we'll return to our calendar on the screen. One. Two. Three.'

***

I took her back in time, gradually, careful to avoid the summer in Boston. She remembered her sixteenth summer, playing gin rummy with a cleaning maid in her summer school dorm room, no other children around. Twelve was similar isolation, reading Jane Eyre in a room with a single bed. As she felt herself younger, her posture loosened and her voice got higher, more tentative, displaying an occasional stammer.

I brought her back to the age of eight- a summer at yet another boarding school. Riding horseback with the headmistress but unable to remember any other children.

No mention of Puck or any other family member.

The loneliness she'd grown up with became more vivid. I felt sad and made sure to keep that out of my voice.

She sat very low in the chair, nearly supine, ankles crossed, knees slightly apart, a fingertip on her lip.

I changed the date on the calendar to August 14. Took her back to age six. Her eyes moved very fast and her voice assumed a slight whine as she told me about losing a favorite doll.

Breathing deeply and peacefully.

'Okay,' I said, 'now let's flip two more pages, Lucy. You're four years old.'

Her breath caught and she knuckled her eyes.

'Deeper relaxed, Lucy. So, so peaceful. Watching the screen, so it doesn't have to bother you.'

Her hands fell to her lap. Her legs spread more, the feet turned on their side.

'Four years old,' I said. 'What are you watching?'

Silence.

'Lucy?'

'House.' Very soft, very high, almost a squeak.

'Watching a house on the screen.'

'Uh-hu-uh.'

'A nice house?'

Silence. 'House.'

'Okay. Do you want to keep watching that house?'

Left finger.

'You want to watch something else?'

Silence. Confusion. Then: 'Dark.'

'It's dark outside.'

'Go out.'

'You want to watch yourself going out.'

'Lights. Far… go out.'

'It's dark and you want to go to the lights.'

'Uh-hu-uh.'

'Have you been sleeping?'

'Uh-hu-uh.'

'You can also tell me 'yes' with your finger.'

Right finger.

'Very good. So you're in the house and you want to go out. Why don't you just tell me in your own words what's going on.'

She fidgeted and touched her nose. Sniffed and blinked and opened her eyes. But she wasn't seeing me.

They closed again.

'Sleep… walk. Sleep… walk. Door… wood. Out… out, out… out…

She grimaced. Her breath quickened and her chest heaved.

'Relax, Lucy. Deeper and deeper relaxed, remembering what you need to remember, seeing what you need to see… Good, very good. Just keep breathing deeply. No matter what you see or hear or touch or smell or remember, you'll stay deeper and deeper relaxed, watching yourself from the TV room, so safe and calm and in control… good. Okay, go on.'

'Out… lights. People yelling.' Puzzled look. 'Not my fault…'

'Deeper and deeper relaxed.'

She sighed and her head drooped. Said something I couldn't hear.

I moved my chair right next to hers. A carotid pulse was beating slow and steady. Her cheeks were pink. I touched the top of her hand. Warm. Her fingers curled around mine and squeezed.

'Walk,' she said. 'Trees- pretty.'

She said nothing for a long time, but her eyes kept moving and her head bobbed.

Walking in place.

Her head moved from side to side.

Taking in the scenery?

Suddenly, I felt her hand go cold.

'What is it, Lucy?'

'Father.'

'You see Father on the screen?'

Long pause as she gripped my hand. Then her right index finger rose but the rest of her fingers stayed clamped.

'Deeper and deeper relaxed, Lucy.'

Slow breathing, but louder and harsher.

'You can leave this place, Lucy. You can turn off the TV any time you want to.'

She made a growling sound, and the left finger stayed up in the air for several seconds.

'You want to stay here.'

Right finger.

'Okay, that's fine. Go ahead, do what you want to do and tell me what you want to tell me.'

A long silence. 'Father… men… carrying lady. Pretty. Like Mama… dark… hair. Pretty… carrying.'

More silence. The pulse in her neck quickened.

I said, 'Other men, too.'

Right finger.

'How many?'