even. As my eyes grow accustomed to the light, I can see that it’s a young girl, thin, with spiky auburn hair, bending and shimmying, barely avoiding the furniture. Her arms are raised above her head, and her fingers are wiggling. She is clearly in high spirits. Manic, I would even say. But not a healthy state. Someone agitated beyond her ability to control it.
Hello? I ask.
She stops twirling and is suddenly at my bedside. She takes one of my hands but remains standing despite the chair next to her.
Mom! Oh Mom, you’re awake! She stops and looks at my face. Mom, it’s Fiona. Your . . . oh, never mind. I stopped by to say hi. Her words come out staccato—even now she can barely control her limbs, she is in such a state, waving and gesturing as she speaks. I’m sorry I haven’t been here this week—it’s been midterms. But now I have some time off. And I’m going to take a little break. Only a week, then classes start again. But I’m flying out this afternoon. Five days in paradise! Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch. I know you don’t talk on the phone anymore, but I’ll check in with Laura twice a day. And Dr. Tsien has agreed to keep an eye on you while I’m gone.
She is trying to keep a somber face as she tells me this, but the edges of her lips keep tugging up. Still, I would diagnose her state as one of fevered, rather than healthy, excitement.
I believe I should call in a consult, I say. I’m concerned. But your condition is not in my area of expertise.
The young woman gives off a little shriek of laughter. Borderline hysterical.
Oh, Mom, she says. Always the clinician.
Then she takes a breath, runs her hands down the sides of her body, smoothes out her dress. She sits down next to me.
I’m sorry, she says. It’s a combination of excitement and relief. Some time off to enjoy the fruits of my labors, which as you know I very rarely take. But it hit me yesterday:Why not? And so I booked a trip to the Bahamas. You and Dad took us to New Providence a couple of times, remember? I’m not going back there. I’ve been doing a little too much revisiting of the past. And the future is so grim. You. Mark on the verge of going under. I don’t want to think about these things. So it’s five days of now. Which is something you should understand.
I’m having trouble holding on to her words. Her face is slipping away.
Yes, just go back to sleep. It’s late. I didn’t mean to wake you, just wanted to say good-bye. And it’s only a few days. I’ll be back next Wednesday and will come by Thursday. They have my contact info here.
She gets up to go, still electric with energy.
Bye, Mom. I’ll see you again before you even realize I’m gone. She gives a little snort of laughter as she says it, and then the door bangs and my room is empty.
I need to get to the hospital. I was paged. Where are my clothes. My shoes. I just have time to splash some water on my face, I’ll grab a cup of coffee at the Tip Top diner on Fullerton. Now. My purse and car keys.
Jennifer? Why are you up? It’s three o’clock in the morning. My goodness, you’re dressed oddly. Where are you going?
No time to chat. There’s a trauma coming in.
A young woman, in light green scrubs speaks soothingly. No need to hurry. We’ve got everything under control. The emergency has been taken care of. I’m not convinced. Her name tag reads simply erica. No letters after it, no credentials. A bit slovenly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Asleep on the job? It hardly seems possible. Still some of the urgency is dissipating. I am beginning to wonder why I am standing here, with a red skirt over my nightgown and a wool scarf around my head and neck.
I heard a noise, I say.
Did you? The only thing I heard was you thumping around.
No, it was outside. A car door slamming.
There isn’t any downstairs here, sweetie. Just the one level.
Dr. White.
Excuse me?
It’s Dr. White.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean anything by it. You’re really a sweet lady, that’s why!
It was Mark, I think. He keeps coming by. Asking for money. I don’t know why he’d come over now, in the middle of the night. Only to leave again without saying anything. I tried to wake up James, but he sleeps so soundly. When I went to the window, all I saw was a figure heading down the street, walking quickly.
Dr. White, you were having a dream.
No. I heard the door slam. The footsteps. The figure.
I know. Now time to go back to sleep.
I can’t. I’m up now.
Dr. White, there’s nowhere to go.
I need to walk. If I can’t walk, I will scream. You will regret it.
Okay, okay. No need for that. Just behave yourself. Don’t get me in trouble.
No, I just need to walk. See? Just walk.
