…and suddenly it was 3:30.
Already? No… Dread time again.
In the bathroom she stopped brushing herhair, took a breath, and peered into the shower stall still misted from theirshowers. No young girl’s face in residence on the walls; there hadn’t been one earlierwhen she showered either, thank goodness. This morning’s dream was quiteenough, the red teddy bear still swirled in the blue current of her dream. It troubledher bad, wouldn’t go away.
She picked up her brush again. In themirror, suddenly, like a flash or a dream, she saw Sasha reach to her throughthe water, and sadly take the teddy bear. Liddy blinked; blinked hard as shesaw them both sweep away in the current.
The heart rocketed, the heart, the heart…
She put her brush down; leaned both handson the sink. Accept it, she told herself, fighting tears. They’ve been thereall along: the frightening images, the slow banging of the heart, theconstricted feeling in the chest. They ease off a bit when the hands are busy, roarback when they’re not, but they’re always there, waiting. You can hide fromanything but your mind.
She went back to the bedroom, got out thatred T-shirt again, held it too long with her hands trembling.
Then checked the time, grabbed her purse,and ran out slamming the door. The hallway echoed the slam. The elevator had alittle girl in it, who gripped her mother’s hand tighter and stared at Liddy,round-eyed. The child had her obsessing about teddy bears. The mother noticed,and asked kindly, “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, thanks!” Liddy said too loudly.
In the lobby she realized she’d forgottento lock up. Took the damned elevator back up, re-opened the door, set the slidebolt to snap closed, then keyed home the second lock.
Her hands shook worse.
I’m a total mess, she thought, signalingfor a cab.
18
Alex Minton frowned fora second time. “On the glass?” he said. “You saw the face on the glass?”
“Yes, after I sprayed.” Liddy hated thetremor in her voice. “And on the misted shower stall before that, both since mylast visit. Then this morning the dream.”
He looked like he’d stepped out of aMaurice Sendak story, built like a soft-bodied bear, with glasses that made hisface look like an owl and a short, trimmed beard. Now he took off his glassesand started wiping them, which was a bad sign; it meant he’d just heardsomething he couldn’t figure.
“You said your nightmares were lessening,”he said, looking up again.
“I said they were getting further apart,but when they do happen they’re more upsetting.” Liddy clamped her lipstogether, then exhaled in a rush. “The apparitions and my sketch resemble thatmissing girl Sasha Perry. It’s like I’m seeing a ghost.”
Minton scribbled a note. What? Giveher more pills? His note taking was something else Liddy noticed he did when heseemed at a loss for pronouncements. She’d laid it all out for him, emphasizingher friend’s idea that maybe she’d seen Sasha’s picture on the news in her hospitalroom; remembered it subconsciously because it was another trauma.
“Could that be it, do you think?” Liddyleaned forward.
Minton raised his eyebrows a little. “Verypossibly,” he said. “In fact, I think you’ve identified what we shrinks callthe ‘diversion cause’ - which, plainly put, is something that is actually easierfor the psyche to deal with than the real issue.” He stopped to think for amoment. “Some repressed memories are so terrifying that one is unable toremember, let alone face. The work you must do going forward is, first,identify the real root cause, and second, deal with that.”
“I think the real root cause is the factthat I got run over and my head creamed and only recently remembered where mysock drawer is.” Liddy felt her jaw muscles tighten.
Minton chuckled indulgently, made another note.It occurred to Liddy that until this latest, long pronouncement of his she’dbeen doing most of the talking. He’d stated a generalization – great – but hedidn’t know what to do with her. She’d heard of people going twenty years to apsychiatrist and getting nowhere.
The red teddy bear he thought was“possibly” a hopeful sign: a comfort toy bringing the psyche back to a safeplace. But why a red teddy bear? Again, he thought, it might connectwith that Steinbeck story – and she really did love it, didn’t she? That’s whyshe never forgot it, another re-connecting with childhood self-comfort.
“But why would the red teddy bear be wet?”Liddy pressed, getting frustrated. “Soaking wet under water?”
Minton frowned and wrote a note; then tooka long time wiping his glasses. “Perhaps we should discuss that on our nextvisit.”
Liddy stared down at her hands.
He inquired – as he had every last time - ifher husband was still being supportive.
Yes, very.
And was the marriage good?
Yes, she answered, as she had before.
“Most important, has your husband-”
“Paul.”
“Ah yes. Has Paul helped you remember what,exactly, happened on the night of the accident? How it happened?What caused you to run out like that?”
Dammit, he’d asked that each time too –emphasizing the same words. Each time she’d answered as best she could and now suddenlyfelt annoyed; these sessions were starting to sound like the same script readover and over. Okay, she told herself, he was trying to see if there was anyupdate, anything further that either she or Paul remembered.
Liddy clasped her hands together, hard,wanting to crack her knuckles or something. “Same as what you’ve already got. We’dbeen drinking, and we fought. Mainly, Paul says, I was upset because he was soobsessed with his work, always getting home late, and I felt neglected.”
“That’s what Paul says?”
“Yes and it was true. Still is althoughhe’s better, he’s been coming home a bit earlier these days – nights, rather -despite being under the gun for a research project deadline.”
“Had you fought about his work obsessionbefore?”
“I had complained, but…well, respected whathe’s doing. It will be a big breakthrough if they can pull this off.”
“Ah yes, you mentioned he has a research partner.”
Liddy shrugged yes. Anticipated the nextquestion and
