Perfunctory Affection

by Kim Harrison

  “Sure.” Meg sat up straighter, her gaze going out of the wide, double-pained windows to the facility’s peaceful, pastoral grounds. “I can understand that. That’s why I spent three years imagining that Austin was alive.”

  “And now you realize how damaging that was,” Simon prompted, his voice giving away how his exasperation obvious he was to be going over things that they’d discussed before. No one made fast progress in group therapy. It was a place to start and end, not unload the real dirt that they were all buried under.

  “In the long, run, sure.” Meg’s gaze strayed to the shallow pond and the surrounding trees. By rights, she should be sitting there at the white bench with Dr. Jillium for her daily chat, but Dr. Jillium hadn’t shown this morning, and so she was here in group therapy.

  “And Rorry and Haley?” Simon insisted, and Meg mentally rolled her eyes.

  “Were invented to take his place when I began to break away from the delusion,” Meg said to give him a thrill.

  “Very good. Tom, do you have anything to build on that?” the ham-handed therapist said, clearly relieved, and Meg smiled, her gaze still out the window as Rorry stepped out from under the trees. Her smile widened as the lanky man settled himself on the bench beside the pond as if to wait for her, his long legs stretched out almost all the way across the crushed gravel walk and into the grass. Christopher’s ratty dog was with him. The two had apparently made friends now that Christopher was imprisoned behind paper cups and white walls as well.

  Meg sighed, wondering if Rorry could see her through the wire-lined windows. They were both trapped, her in a drug-laced prison, and he in her reality. Why someone hadn’t come back to rescue him gave her hope. Maybe they were waiting for her.

  The creak of the door to the hall pulled Meg’s attention up and away, relief filling her when she realized it was Dr. Jillium.

  “Excuse me, Simon,” the woman said with a smile. “Meg, I’m sorry I’m late. Would you like to stay and finish your session or continue on with me?”

  Immediately Meg stood, her pace fast as she headed for the door and a few moments of escape.

  Laura pulled herself out of her funk, her expression cross. “How come she gets to leave and the rest of us have to sit here listening to Tom whine about his dead wife again?”

  “Laura!” Simon admonished, and Dr. Jillium dropped back into the hallway to hide the hint of a smile. “That is totally out of line.”

  “I’m not the one hogging the entire hour with the same old crap he’s been talking about for the last two years,” Laura accused, and Meg slipped into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind her.

  “Thank you,” Meg said with a grateful sigh. “I thought you weren’t coming today. Simon has about as much finesse as a black Lab.”

  “Which has its uses.” Dr. Jillium matched Meg’s slow step as they headed down the hall. Behind them, Tom was screaming at Laura. Two orderlies had gone in, and Meg was doubly glad to have made an escape. She didn’t need to be a part of anyone’s breakthrough.

  “I’m, ah, sorry for being late,” Dr. Jillium said as she ran her card and they went into a less institutional looking wing. There was carpet on the floor, and the windows opened. “I had an unexpected errand. Do you want to take our usual walk?”

  Meg thought about Rorry outside. Dr. Jillium wouldn’t see him, but she might see the dog. “No. It’s kind of chilly today. Can we talk in your office?”

  “Sure.” Dr. Jillium nodded at the orderly sitting at the nearby desk, and they continued on into the office area. “I’ve got something there to show you, anyway. How was your day yesterday?”

  Meg’s shoulders eased even more. The farther they were from cold white tile and harsh white light, the better she felt. “Fine. Thank you for the access to my paint and canvas.”

  “My pleasure. Do you need anything else?”

  Meg winced, already knowing the answer. “Better light?”

  Dr. Jillium smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Um, how’s Christopher doing?” Meg asked. She’d heard him in the night last week, but he hadn’t been in the cafeteria even once.

  “Meg, you know I can’t talk about my other patients.” Meg gave her a sidelong look, and Dr. Jillium sighed. “Not good. He’s still fixed on the belief that your Rorry and Haley are the same two figures that featured in his delusion.”

  “Mmmm.” Meg’s steps were soft on the carpet, and the real wood trim was comforting. She ran a hand down it as they walked, enjoying the smooth feel.

  “I was hoping that he could join the group by now, but I’m concerned that seeing you would only reinforce his beliefs.”

  Meg nodded. “It’s hard being cooped up all day.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry,” Dr. Jillium said as they turned the corner. There was an orderly break room halfway down the hall, and Meg’s pulse quickened. The guards were never far away. “I’m hoping that I can increase your privileges this week,” Dr. Jillium said as they reached her office and she gestured for Meg to go in. “You’ve made a lot of progress. That you freely admit that Rorry and Haley were constructs to ease the loss of Austin was a big step.”

  But Meg hardly heard. She stood, frozen three steps into Dr. Jillium’s office. Her painting, the one she’d made for Rorry, was sitting propped up in one of the office chairs facing the desk. A sudden sweat made her feel both hot and cold. It was Perfection, the light of sunset still shining on the hills and the veil between their realities, the thinnest.

  “Meg?” Dr. Jillium prompted, and Meg took a gasping breath.

  “W-where,” she croaked out, her voice harsh.

  Dr. Jillium went to the canvas, hoisting it up as if it was just a picture. “It was in your car,” she said, smiling as her eyes appreciatively traced the lines. “I was finally able to get it when they auctioned it off this morning. I thought you might want it. Seeing as you’re painting again.”

  Meg forced her arms down from around her waist, fear creeping out from the dark places in her soul. “No,” she whispered, and Dr. Jillium turned, a tight, knowing expression in her eyes. “I don’t want it,” Meg said forcefully. “You can have it.”

  Dr. Jillium set the canvas down, her motions slow in regret. “They’re not real, Meg. I know they feel as if they are, but they aren’t.”

  “They are!” Meg shouted, then turned away, hands on her head as she wished she could take it back. “Rorry is out there right now,” she said softly, unable to stop herself. “Why should I wallow in lies? I’m not the one having trouble with the truth. I saw him this morning. He’s there with Christopher’s old dog.”

  Dr. Jillium turned to her window, set to look out over the parking lot. “I don’t see them.”

  “He’s not in the parking lot,” Meg said as if Dr. Jillium was being stupid, then lowered her voice. “He was at the lake. It’s the frogs and spiders,” she said, knowing how foolish that sounded but unable to stop herself. “I can’t tell if he attracts them, or if he just likes the same things they do. I think he’s waiting for me.”

  Dr. Jillium went to stand behind her desk. “I’m sorry, Meg. I want to increase your meds this week.”

  Anger flared, and Meg forced her hands to unclench. “I don’t need more meds,” she said softly. “I need to get out of here. He’s waiting for me. I saved him, and they changed their minds. They want me to go. They’ll let me in, and you have no right to keep me here.”

  “Meg, why don’t you sit down.”

  “Why? I’m not being unreasonable,” Meg said, and Dr. Jillium’s lips pressed. “I just want to leave. I’m a prisoner here, and you know it!” The last was a shout, and Meg held up a hand in apology. “Sorry, sorry,” she said, but Dr. Jillium was already reaching for the desk intercom.

  “Chuck? Can you come in here for a moment?” she said as she thumbed the button.

  “Chuck? Really?” Meg said bitterly, knowing all the really good orderlies on a first-name basis. “I’m not losing it, Dr. J.
I’m as sane as you. The Fitrecepon changed how I see things. That’s what it’s supposed to do, and you want to increase my sedation? Make me a drooling idiot so you don’t have to face reality? I know what’s real. I’ve seen it! It’s out there!”

  The door opened, and Meg turned as the large black man came in, his white orderly uniform hiding a syringe somewhere. “Hi, Meg.”

  “You stay out of this, Chuck,” Meg warned, a hand raised as she backed to the windows.

  “I’m trying to help you,” Dr. Jillium said, but it was clearly a ploy to distract her, and Meg didn’t take her eyes off Chuck.

  “Come on, Meg,” the large man said soothingly. “Don’t make me stick you.”

  Meg kept backing up, wishing the windows were open. “Try it,” she threatened, her eyes going to Dr. Jillium. “I dare you to try the Fitrecepon yourself, Dr. J,” she said. “You’ll see them too. And then you’ll have to believe in Perfection and let me out.” Her back hit the corner, and she felt the bookcase, not daring to throw a volume at Chuck. He was that big. “I saved Rorry. They’ll let me in now. They want me!”

  Chuck moved at her last panicked outcry, and Meg lurched to get away, shrieking as he snagged her easily. “They’re out there!” she shouted as he spun her into a submission hold. “I’ve seen them!” she added as he yanked the top off his syringe, and then she yelped as he jammed it into her. “Damn you, Chuck!” she swore. “I’m not crazy!”

  “I know you aren’t Miss Meg,” he said in his slow drawl, and Meg slumped as everything seemed to go warm and soft. The meds were taking hold, dampening her, making nothing seem important.

  “I’m not crazy,” she said, hearing her words begin to slur as her strength left her and she sagged in Chuck’s arms. “You think I’m crazy, but they are there. An entire world of them. Take the Fitrecepon, Dr. J. Try it.” Exhaling, Meg closed her eyes, her last image of her canvas. “And then you’ll have to believe in Perfection.”

  Slumping in Chuck’s grip, Meg went silent, grateful that the drugs had relieved her of the onus of telling the truth. “She’s down,” she heard Chuck say, and then she felt herself lifted, cradled in his thick, beefy arms to be carried back to her room. She’d be lucky now if she got out into the garden again by spring. Son of a bitch…

  “Thank you, Chuck,” Dr. Jillium said, and a flicker of annoyance rose and fell in Meg at the woman’s grateful satisfaction. “I was afraid that her recent progress was only a front. I thought her picture might shake the truth from her.”

  It did, Meg tried to say, but the thought never reached her lips.

  “Can you get her back to her room?”

  “Yep.” Meg felt her head loll as Chuck shifted her weight. “That is an amazing painting,” he said, his deep voice rumbling through Meg. “She really did it?”

  “Yes. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” Dr. Jillium said, and Meg tried to laugh, the sound coming out as a rasping gurgle. She’d get out of here. She had to. Rorry was waiting. He’d take her with him. Dr. J had tricked her with the picture, but she’d be smarter next time. Maybe she and Christopher could escape together, and then she’d leave him in some alley to find Perfection alone.

  “I’ve always said that it’s only the most troubled and imperfect of us that can make the most perfect things,” Chuck said as he carried her back to her room.

  And Meg, vowing to keep her big mouth shut next time, agreed.

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  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty