Admissions (13 page)

“That’s a great story.”

“I loved that job. One of my lowest days, nothing like losing Judy of course, was the day the dairy operation closed up. I watched as the last of the heifers were loaded on the truck for auction. I tell you, I reached in my back pocket, snapped the dirt from my bandana, wiped my nose and eyes, stared down the road until the last puff of dust disappeared over the horizon. And I wasn’t ashamed of crying either, not a bit.”

“Why did they close the farm?”

“Some damn ruling came down from the State, ruined everything. Excuse my language.”

“Oh.”

“I guess they liked me well enough. I started out as a farm hand and in five years, I was supervisin’ the whole thing. Let me tell you, it was A-number one. You could eat off the floor in those barns. And the architecture—you don’t see that anymore. Barreled ceilings suspended by arched maple beams. Every milker knew her own stanchion. When they came in from grazing, they filed in like they were finding their favorite pew for Sunday services. I loved walking down the rows of chewing heads, the mooing and snorting of the old girls as the milking machines hummed and slurped.”

“My grandpa was a dairy farmer. But his barn was just a plain one. I always thought the cows were cute.”

“I never thought of them that way, but you’re right, they are cute, specially the little ones. Like I said, I never loved any job more than that one. After my accident, I did a lot of jobs.”

“Is that what’s wrong with your leg? An accident?”

“Well, not exactly…Oops, there’s the bell. We’ll have to talk another time. Holy moley, time flies.

“Was that the lunch bell? Thanks for talking to me, Carl. I love your stories. Here.” I stand up and extend my hand. “Grab my hand.”

“Thanks. Darn leg. Worse every day.”

“Walking to 50?”

“Yup. Canteen.”

“Hall 9 for me.” I gather up my tools and walk beside Carl, chatting about how the planting season in Traverse City compares to mid-Michigan where I grew up.

Carl and I stop at the back entrance. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Probably tomorrow.”

I come to group late, my t-shirt soaked with sweat, hair plastered to my forehead.

“You’re late, Luanne,” Dr. Murray says.

“Five minutes,” I answer. “I was talking to Carl Reinbold, my supervisor. Sorry.” I wipe my forehead and sit down.

“Just this once. Next time, I’ll have to make note of it in your file.”

“Thanks. It won’t happen again. I was outside, pulling weeds. With Isabel on home leave, I’m falling behind.”

“You work too hard,” Heidi says.

“It’s fun, really.”

“Who wants to start?”

“Five guys attacked me …I got gangbanged,” Heidi blurts out. She brings her hands to her face. “It’s just so hard to say it.”

“Go ahead, Heidi,” Dr. Murray says.

“Bastards. I …I knew one of them.” Heidi sniffs. “Real nice guy, I thought. Can I pick ‘em or what?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, Kurt told me he wanted to party. We were drinking …he said he knew where we could get some good grass, maybe acid. Told me to meet him at the beach. I live in Benton Harbor, near Lake Michigan. That’s where it happened.” Heidi reaches for a tissue. “He was a friend?” Beth asks.

“A friend? He was a party buddy, a guy I’d screwed a few times for drugs.”

“Oh.”

“See, that’s what pisses me off. Just because I’m a whore, don’t mean I don’t have feelings. I can still get raped, ya’ know. They got me high, alright? Then they stripped me naked, held me down while they each took a turn. Five guys.”

“Of course, you have feelings, I didn’t mean that,” Beth says.

Heidi blows her nose. “I know, I know,” she says. “They raped me …And was that enough? No. Some smartass got the idea to shave my head and body. I guess so I’d look like fresh meat. Then a couple of ‘em screwed me again …They left me on the beach …like …like a dead carp or something.” She works to catch her breath as her chest rises and falls in short jerks.

I’m stunned. “I’m so sorry, Heidi. I don’t know what to say.”

“You were a victim of a brutal crime,” Dr. Murray says, her eyes glistening. “I’m so happy you’re still alive. You will make it, Heidi. I promise you.”

“Could somebody else talk?” Heidi asks.

During a long pause, I’m thinking I should try to share something, but my problems seem so small compared to Heidi’s. No, this isn’t a contest. What I want to talk about is important. “Well, I have a letter from Jeff I’d like to share.” I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out a crinkled letter, unfold it, start to read.

May 23, l969

 

Dear Luanne-

You seemed really depressed when I saw you last month. I’m sorry I haven’t been up there as much lately. I’ve been working a lot. It doesn’t seem like you’re getting better. I drive all the way up there and you barely talk to me. I tried to give you a kiss last time, and you didn’t even kiss me back. It doesn’t feel like you love me anymore. It’s been very hard for me since you’ve been in the hospital. I’m coming up to visit you June 5th. I hope you’re feeling better. Love, Jeff

“If I’m well, he loves me. If I’m not …”

“I don’t think that’s what he’s saying,” Beth says. “Sounds more like he’s asking if
you
love him.”

“But don’t you see? That’s what he does. He tries to make it about me, my feelings. I don’t even know right now how I feel. I’m sick.”

“Did you kiss him back?” Heidi asks.

“I think so. I don’t remember.”

“Do you love him?”

“Probably. I don’t have many good feelings about anything right now. I’m scared. If I don’t get well pretty soon, I’m afraid he’ll leave me.”

“No, that’s not it,” Autumn says. “He’s just lonely, needs a little reassurance.”

“I guess.” What about my loneliness?

“Just try to get well. You can’t worry about him,” Beth says. “Just tell him you love him. It’ll be okay.”

I don’t really believe Beth. What does she know about marriage? She’s never even had a date. Jeff and I had a great marriage until Alexander got sick. “I hope it’s a nice day. I’d like to take Jeff out on the grounds, just the two of us. Really talk.”

“Must be nice,” Autumn says. “They won’t let me out unless I’m supervised. Nobody wants to babysit me.”

“Maybe if you were willing to share today, Autumn, that might help in getting you off the restricted list,” Dr. Murray says.

“Hey! It sounds like your tryin’ to bribe her. She don’t have to talk if she don’t want to,” Heidi says.

“Of course not. I encourage all of you to share. It helps you recover.”

“That’s okay. I’ll go.”

“You told us about that day. The day Jim came over drunk and became violent. He raped you in front of the children,” Dr. Murray says.

“Yeah. We were on the bed. He was …done with me. Finally he started snoring and I could feel his grip loosen. I eased my wrist out from between his fingers and got up. I grabbed my robe, motioned the kids to back away from the doorway. Once I got out of the bedroom, I whispered to them to go to the neighbor’s house and stay there until I came for them. They didn’t want to leave, but they did what they were told.” Autumn rubs her hands on her thighs, rocks in her seat.

“Please go on.”

“Once the kids were safe, I went to the kitchen counter. I opened the utensil drawer. The poultry shears were right on top. I went back into the bedroom …oh, sweet Jesus …I …I sized up Jim’s chest, and stabbed him with all my might.” Her face went rigid and her eyes clouded over. “That was it. He opened his eyes and said,
you killed me
, and then he died. I keep seeing Jim’s eyes pop open. His voice is so calm.
You killed me
, over and over. I don’t even have to be asleep. He comes into my head, y
ou killed me.
”

“Just try to stay with the pain, Autumn. Don’t be afraid of it,” Dr. Murray reassures her. Autumn cries softly. I feel the horror she’s lived through. Sniffs and coughs around the group make me think others do, too.

“I wish I could’ve killed the bastards who raped me,” Heidi says.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Autumn says. “It was like I was another person or something. I hate myself for doing it. If it weren’t for the kids …”

“You did something violent, Autumn. I understand why you did it, but that’s why you are on restriction. You’re making good progress. It won’t be long.”

“Thank you, Dr. Murray.”

“I’m in the same boat,” Estee says. “I can’t go out unsupervised either. But it’s because I’m on to them.”

“Yeah?” Heidi rolls her eyes.

“I know what’s going on.”

“What?” Beth asks.

“Sending radio beams to the star planets. I can see them at night through my window. They’re coming from behind the old barns.”

“I see.”

“One of these days, I’ll get out on the grounds. I know right where to head.”

“Where?” I ask.

“Goddamn it, don’t you listen? Behind the barns, I told you!”

“Okay, Estee. I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Maybe you’re in on it.”

“Now that’s not true.” I try to calm Estee. I don’t want to see her go back to Hall 5.

“I saw you and that attendant guy.”

“Just now? Outside?”

“Yes. Walking, talking. I saw you through the window.”

“That’s Carl Reinbold, the gardening supervisor. Nurse Judy’s husband.”

“Oh my god. They got Nurse Judy, Luanne. Now they’re after you.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be careful.”

Estee swings her head to glance over her shoulder. “You can’t be too careful.”

Chapter 25

I
recognize him immediately, even from the back. Jeff stands looking out the west windows on the far side of the visitors’ room, his hands crammed into the pockets of his Levis. Jeff loves summer and it shows. His hair is longer and sun streaked. When he turns, with his dark tan and the blond highlights in his mustache, he’s handsome in a surfer sort of way. I feel a tingle. I walk up beside him, put my hand on his waist.

“Hi.” He gives me a quick hug. “You look great. Wow, you seem so much better, Lu.”

“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks go red. I feel safe, almost childlike, standing in the nook his arm makes around my shoulder. “I thought we could walk around the grounds while we visited.”

“Well, yeah, sure. It’s a beautiful day. Is that allowed?”

“Yes. I’ve earned privileges since you were here last, a ground pass.” I smile up at him as we walk side-by-side toward the nurses’ station, close but not touching. We stop and I pick up two passes. The attendant unlocks the door and holds it open for us.

Since spring arrived, I’ve spent as much time outdoors as I can. No matter how many times I stand at the open doorway, I always close my eyes briefly, take a deep breath. The sun is high in the sky by the time we step off the porch. Jeff slides his aviator sunglasses on.

We stroll along the walkway under the large oaks, a warm breeze turns the leaves. Colorful finches glide on the air currents, chirp loudly as they dive for winterberries. I proudly point out my gardening masterpieces as Jeff and I make our way through the grounds toward the Willow Lake reflecting pool.

Jeff brings me up to date on what the family is doing, gossip about our friends, reports on the Vietnam War. Danny Ortez, one of my favorite dance partners in high school, has been killed. I think back to three years ago when Jeff received his draft notice. He could have been over there, even killed in the war, but he was granted an eleventh-hour 3A deferment when Alexander was born. Jeff always mentions the war as if he thinks about it often, as if he has to remind himself he’s safe. Is he safe? Could they take him now that Alexander’s gone?

“Luanne, there’s something I have to tell you.”

“Okay.” I straighten on the bench, turn toward him, bracing for any news that might be bad. He faces the pond as if he is addressing the ducks.

“I had to sell the house.”

“What? Why didn’t you talk to me?” I slump back on the bench like a rag doll.

“It just happened. Dad was worried, and I agree with him, that the neighborhood was going downhill.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper.

“We needed the money to help pay the hospital bills, Luanne.”

“Where are you living?”

“I got a little apartment in a complex out by the mall. It’s a lot cheaper, just a studio.”

“Where’s Alexander’s stuff?” Panic burns through my body. The last thing I remember of home is closing the door to Alexander’s room. Now I feel as if I’m floating in space, with no connection to anything.

“I packed up everything. I had to.”

“I …don’t understand. How could you sell my home out from under me? Dr. Murray and I talked …talked about how you and I need to pack up Alexander’s things together. I guess I won’t get that chance.” I stare past the pond into the blurry distance.

“I’m sorry. Six months now …you barely speak to me. You still don’t remember things …I’m just trying to survive, Lu.”

“I know, I know.”

“Do you even love me anymore?” He rubs his hands up and down his thighs.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time to ask me that.”

“Is there anything else you’re upset with me about, Lu?”

“Other than selling my house without telling me? No.”

“I filed for divorce.”

“Okay.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“What am I supposed to say? You put me in here, now you’re leaving.”

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if you’ll ever come home. I said I filed. Things could still work out between us.”

“I don’t know how.”

“I talked to a friend at work and she said I need to think of myself, my own survival.”

“She?”

“Yeah, a girl on the line. She’s nobody, a casual friend. I’ve been totally faithful.”

He sounds a bit too self righteous. “I see.” My heart bangs in my chest. We sit silently and stare out over the glassy pool. I search my mind for something to say, but I can’t focus. I leave my body. “I guess I’d better get back.”

“Okay.” He stands up immediately. We walk along the front of Building 50, toward the visitors’ parking lot.

“You don’t have to come back with me. Why don’t you just give me your pass, then you can get right in your car and leave.” I put out my hand, palm up.