Blue Aspen Page 21
Dr. Verell’s eyes gleamed hungrily. "Yes," she whispered.
"There is a way."
"How?"
Dulcee reached up with both hands, quickly grabbing Dr. Verell’s arms and jerking her to the floor onto her knees. She gave a cry of surprise and tried to twist free from Dulcee’s grasp, but her grip would not break. She was about to call out for help. Dulcee was clasping both of Verell’s hands, pulling them into her chest.
"Please," Dulcee begged in a rasping whisper. "Give it back!"
Their faces were inches from one another. "Give what back?" Dr. Verell asked, trying again to pull away, but Dulcee held her fast.
"My notebook, you Thieving Hag! I need it! I can’t remember, don’t you understand?! The drugs are causing him to fade from my memory. Please, give it back! I’m begging you, not as my doctor, but as a woman. I’m dying without him. Please! Will you give it back?"
Dr. Verell pulled her face back from Dulcee’s and set her chin. "No."
Dulcee’s hold relaxed slightly and Dr. Verell moved to pull her arms free. Dulcee’s hands snatched wildly at them until she had caught her again. Her face now took on all the properties of desperation and her voice turned soft and pleading.
"Ok. You keep it. But I could…I could tell you about it, everything you want to know. I just need some time to think about it, focus, you know. But I need you to take away my medications…or…or…at least decrease the dose. I’m sure if you did that, I could remember some good things, very good things to tell you. What do you say?"
Dr. Verell smiled at Dulcee, and Dulcee took that as enough of a "Yes" to ease her grip again. Dr. Verell jerked her arms away and stood up. She blinked once at Dulcee, still on the floor, and went back to sit at her desk. Dulcee scrambled off the floor, her eyes wild with ecstatic hope. Dr. Verell pulled out a notepad and began scribbling on it.
"I’m sorry, Dulcee," she said coldly. "The only change I’m going to make in your current medications is a dosage increase. You are wildly out of control and forgetting Vincent is good progress. I’m not going to help you regress."
Dr. Verell met Dulcee’s deflated gaze with one of haughty superiority. Dulcee blinked and cocked her head to the side.
"Oh, I see," Dulcee whispered.
Dr. Verell quaked under her skin, afraid for a second she really did see. Dulcee rushed at her, slamming both her fists onto the desk. Dr. Verell jammed the button on her desk to alert the orderlies of an emergency. She pushed her chair away from her desk as Dulcee made to climb over it.
"You think I don’t see?! I SEE!"
Two orderlies charged into the office and pulled Dulcee off the desk. Dr. Verell had her back pressed to the wall, having nowhere else to go, and her hands were out in front of her in defense.
"You won’t give it back because you want him for yourself!" Dulcee screamed as she was dragged from the room. "You want him for yourself! I SEE IT!"
Dr. Verell sat back down, panting. Her nerves thoroughly jangled. She listened to Dulcee’s screams growing more and more muffled as she was taken down the hall and put into solitary.
Dr. Verell slumped in her chair and looked across the office at her brief case leaning against the wall. Dulcee’s notebook was inside it. She knew Dulcee had been utterly right about her. A strong sense of possession filled her whenever she thought about the notebook, and she was in no way disposed to give it up to anyone. It was hers.
When Dr. Verell returned home that evening, the house was empty and dark. It looked as though Jon hadn’t been there for hours. She was relived he was not at home. Weary from the events of the day, and the mental trauma she was suffering, Dr. Verell felt like just going to bed. She knew Jon would be home eventually, after he was done spending time with his girlfriend.
After eating dinner and taking a shower, she went to her office and turned on her computer. She searched real estate listings for a while before deciding to look in on Dulcee. She could do this by logging onto the hospital’s digital video recorder. Live feed cameras monitored all the hospital rooms and solitary cells. Having gained access to the footage with her security code, Dr. Verell was able to look down on Dulcee in her cell.
Solitary was nothing more than a box with one Plexiglas wall, making it anything but private. Dulcee was lying still, face up on the bed, which was the only furniture in the room. Her eyes were half-open, but she was undoubtedly asleep. Looking carefully, Dr. Verell made sure she was still breathing. She was heavily sedated.
Going back in fast reverse, she watched the footage from the last few hours. Dulcee had fought fiercely against the orderlies. She banged the Plexiglas with her arms and screamed until the drugs hit her blood stream. Then she sat on the bed, rocking back and forth and crying. She mumbled and whispered to herself and at one time hit herself in the head.
Dr. Verell sighed and logged off. The whole situation was her fault. She shouldn’t have done what she did to Dulcee. She just wanted to know what it felt like to be consumed by another person, that’s all.
Dr. Verell lay awake, staring at the ceiling for a long time that night. She thought about what she wanted, she thought about Jon and what he must be doing, and she thought about Dulcee’s drugged, half-closed eyes. She began to think maybe it was better to never love at all. Love was a great risk that caused many complications. If only she could continue to be satisfied with loving herself more than anyone or anything.
Jon came home very late that night. He sat up in bed a long time, watching his wife sleeping. A man of his caliber did not let go of things easily. Patricia had always been a possession to him, one he was very proud of. She was young and sexy, a real trophy. Now he felt he no longer needed or wanted her. He had found fulfillment with another woman, and his desire was to marry her. Jon didn’t know if Patricia knew about Amy, or any of the other women he had over the years. He figured she had probably had conquests of her own. But feeling guilty, he was determined to take care of her as best he could. Jon planned to make sure Patricia was well provided for, for the rest of her life. She made plenty of her own money, but he decided to give her a large gift. He was grateful to her for being his wife all these years, and she had been a good wife, considering she never loved him.
The next evening was the Cotes’ dinner party. The morning and afternoon leading up to it passed without great consequence. It was Dr. Verell’s day off and she was thankful not to have to see Dulcee, especially after what had happened the day before.
She and Jon had breakfast together, though they didn’t talk much. Then Jon headed off to his office down town and Patricia decided to go shopping. She had a grand time looking at things. She didn’t buy anything, but was making a mental note of the things she saw that she would like to put in her own place, when she got one.
After perusing furniture and house wares for a few hours, her thoughts then shifted to what she was going to wear to the party that night. She found a dress shop she liked and began trying on prospects. Her choices were somewhat different today than they would have been in the past. Other men had always envied Jon when he showed up places with Patricia on his arm, but she had never blatantly sought that kind of attention. However, as she was deciding what to wear that evening, her mind was set on attracting the attentions of other men.
Dr. Verell returned home with her new dress and shoes for the evening. Jon was not home yet, though she expected him soon. She began to get ready for the party, but as she finished her hair a sinking feeling came over her, and she felt ill. What was she doing? Was she going to go to a party as Mrs. Jon Verell looking for dates?
Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she felt ashamed. She took off her new dress and put the shoes back in their box just before Jon arrived home. She threw on some jeans and a sweatshirt before Jon came upstairs. He stopped in the doorway at the sight of her. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, looking down.
"Did you forget about the party?" he asked.
"No. I didn’t forget. I’m just not going."
Jon took a deep breath and went to sit down beside her. He reached over and grabbed her hand. She knew this was it.
"You’re finished playing this game, too, aren’t you?" he asked quietly.
She nodded mutely. "I’m glad that you’ve found someone you can love."
He tensed momentarily. "I didn’t think you knew about Amy. I’m sorry if I hurt you."
She laughed a tense little giggle. "You didn’t, Jon."
He chuckled lightly also, and then became serious again. "I’m going to take good care of you, Pat, I promise. You shall have a good deal more than the allotted sum in alimony, and I want to buy you a house."
"Oh, Jon, you don’t have to do all that."
"I want to. I've been honored to have you as my wife, Patricia. And I’m sure you will find love as well. You deserve the best of everything, don’t accept any less." He sighed and kissed her hand before getting to his feet. "Well, My Dear, I have a party that I cannot miss."
He smiled, straightened his tie, and left the room. She listened as he left the house and thought to herself, I won’t accept any less than the best!
Another large and loud rainstorm rolled in as Dr. Verell started packing up her clothes. She felt she was beginning a catharsis. Tears began to roll down her cheeks and it felt good. It was over. The whole farce of her marriage was over. She was free to seek love if she wanted, and she was still young and attractive.
After she tired of packing, Dr. Verell went back to her computer and logged into the hospital again to check on Dulcee. She was still in solitary and she looked terrible. Her hair was all over the place and her clothes were hanging off her body in places. She was sitting on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at nothing. Logging off, Dr. Verell thought she should make a fresh attempt with Dulcee. How could she make Dulcee return to reality? The medications she was on were helping clear away some of the fantasy, but with that came great sorrow and feeling of loss.
Dr. Verell left her office and decided to go to bed, with Dulcee’s notebook tucked under her arm.
Dulcee was aching all over her body and slightly in her brain. A caged animal, that was what they had reduced her to. People were watching her, waiting for her to entertain them. It was just like the nightmare she had about being in a glass box, tormented by faceless people in white coats. Dulcee sat there reflecting, her eyes open not seeing anything at all, when something caught her attention.
All the time she had been in solitary there had been an orderly standing guard, but none of them had paid her any attention, until now. Trying to focus her blurry eyes, Dulcee held the gaze of someone she had never seen before. It was impossible to miss that he was very good looking, younger and smaller than most of the other orderlies. He had big dark brown eyes and almost white blond hair. He looked like a surfer. Despite his attractive features, Dulcee could not help being repelled by him, and not just because she was in love with Vincent. She was prey. He wanted her. His eyes bathed every inch of her with his overt lust, and she had nowhere to hide from it.
Dulcee shivered, seeing the darkness in his eyes. He was the personification of all that she hated in men. Dulcee furrowed her brow and gave him a dirty look. She shifted with unease and he laughed at the discomfort he had created inside her. Dulcee was enraged at his laughter. He winked at her and then turned and walked down the hall.
5. Enter Lyle Archer stage left
"You bring darkness, it becomes night,
and all the beasts of the forest come creeping out." Psalms 104:20
Dr. Verell woke up the next morning to the sound of growling thunder and a grey sky. She felt wretchedly tired, not having slept much. She had invited Dulcee’s notebook to sink its claws into her again, reading and re-reading certain parts until her identity slid away, and in her mind, she was Dulcee. She was Dulcee in Vincent’s arms. Dulcee in the solarium, Dulcee flying, Dulcee consumed in Vincent’s fire, in his eyes, in his lips. It was heaven to be Dulcee, even when she was in pain.
Dr. Verell dragged herself out of bed and groggily got ready for work.
Dulcee had suffered though a terrible night. She fought against the drugs to stay awake, nervous because of the new orderly, who never seemed to stop watching her. Even when he wasn’t standing outside her cell, she could feel his eyes on her. She was powerless to escape his lust that permeated through the Plexiglas that caged her. Not only did his presence unsettle her, his demeanor frightened her. She didn’t want to go to sleep, afraid he would come into her cell. By the time morning had come he was gone, his shift over.
The dead-eyed nurse came in to give Dulcee her medication, and found her fast asleep. She had to wake her up to give her the pills. Dulcee took them quickly and went right back to sleep. The nurse shrugged and left.
Dr. Verell was sitting in the staff lounge, drinking her fourth cup of coffee. Jean and Carl both came in around the same time. They filled their mugs and joined her.
Dr. Verell muttered, "Morning," to her friends through a large yawn.
"Wow, what happened to you? Wild night?" Carl asked.
Dr. Verell shook her head as she downed the dregs at the bottom of her cup. She didn’t really feel like talking.
"Well then?" Jean persisted. "Tell us. Why do you look half dead?"
Dr. Verell thought for a moment, she was not going to admit to anyone what really kept her awake last night. "Jon and I decided to file for divorce last night. We discussed it and we both agreed. So, I had a hard time sleeping. I had a lot on my mind."
She said this so quickly that Carl and Jean’s eyes widened and they both looked as though she had shouted. They just sat there blinking at her for a second. Then recovering himself, Carl said, "I’m sorry to hear that, Pat. Let me know if I can do anything to help."
He reached across the table and grabbed her hand, giving it a little squeeze. It shocked her and the shock was plain on her face. She looked Carl in the eyes and saw the thinly veiled advance he was making. Had things been different, maybe she could have considered Carl as a candidate for a relationship, at least enough for one dinner date. But it wouldn’t have mattered who was gripping her hand, she was too far gone. All she could think of when she looked in his eyes was, he’s not Vincent.
Carl had not expected her to have such a dead look in her eyes when he offered his help. She stared at him as though he had spoken to her in a foreign language. He let go of her hand, stood up, filled his mug, and exited the lounge looking awkward.
Jean chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I think he might want to ask you out."
"Shut up," Dr. Verell retorted. She was angry with herself for thinking what she had. Vincent wasn’t real.
"Okay," Jean said through a smile. "You just wait and see, once this gets out, the offers will come flying in."
"Yeah, right. I am so desirable. Men have just been waiting for this day to come." she said sarcastically.
"You know, for being so learned, you don’t know anything about men. You’re hot. I’ve seen the way men respond to being around you. Speaking of which, you want to go out clubbing with me on Saturday night? Welcome you into the dating pool?"
"Ha! Yeah, I’ll put that one under a feasibility study and get back to you."
Outside the hospital, Lyle Archer was sitting in his car, smoking a cigarette. His first shift since being hired was over. He hadn’t known working for the nut house would provide him with such intriguing possibilities. His dark mind was smoldering with thoughts of Dulcee Elders. He hoped she wouldn't be released before he had a chance to take advantage of her. Beneath the mask of depression and medication she wore, Lyle could see something he hadn’t really seen before. Sure Dulcee excited him physically, but there was more to her that interested him. He had looked at Dulcee a long time that night, and looking at her was like looking at the remains of a priceless object that had been smashed on the floor. Even so, what was left of her was worth more than all the women he had been with combined. He could tell she was sp
ecial, unique.
When Dulcee finally woke up, it was late morning. No one had disturbed her slumber, but seeing that she was awake, the nurse and one orderly came into her cell. She was taken to shower and then released back into the main workings of the hospital. Her time in solitary was over. She moved slowly back to her regular room, unhappy at the thought of another session with Dr. Verell. She decided that from now on she would control herself, to avoid being put back in solitary. Shortly after returning to her room, another over-developed orderly came to fetch her.
"There’s a call for you from your Uncle," he stated flatly.
Dulcee went quietly with the orderly to the almost empty room where patients received phone calls. She hadn’t been in there before, not having any phone calls as yet. Dulcee was a little shocked by the level of control deemed necessary just for phone calls. Once she really considered it though, she could see how for some patients it could be terribly problematic.