“Isn’t it a wonderful morning?” her mother said. “I sleep so much better here than I did in the city.”
“Me, too,” her father said. “It’s the clear air and the silence.”
“Yes, I love how peaceful it is at night,” Elaine Freeman said. Justine stared at her mother. Weren’t they both complaining about how hard it was to get used to that silence just the other day? Her mother had even joked about recording the city street noises.
She looked out the window. The sky was completely overcast. In fact, it looked as though it might rain. Yet neither of them seemed to notice the dreariness.
She brought a napkin to her mouth and pressed the vitamin out and into it. Then she crumpled it up quickly and dropped it in the wastebasket on her way to the cereal cupboard.
She listened to her parents making plans to meet for lunch in New York, heard the happy, almost musical tone in their voices as they spoke, and studied the enthusiasm in their faces—the way their eyes widened and their smiles flashed. It was almost as if they were being phony with one another, putting on an act to impress each other. She was a little disgusted by it, but she said nothing.
She ate quietly and listened. Finally, her silence caught her mother’s attention.
“Why so quiet this morning, Justine? Aren’t you feeling well? Didn’t you sleep well?”
Her father stopped sipping his coffee and studied her, waiting for her answer. She looked from one to the other and sensed they were very interested in her response. They wanted reinforcement; they wanted to know all was wonderful. She recalled Lois telling her how she pretended now, how important it was not to let anyone know she was different.
Her words echoed through Justine’s brain. Our parents, our friends will know something’s wrong, and if they find out, they’ll tell Dr. Lawrence…I’m afraid.
“Oh, yes,” Justine said, imitating their enthusiastic expressions. “I had a wonderful sleep. I was just listening to you. Sounds like you’re going to have a nice day.”
“Hopefully,” her mother said. “Already I feel so secure here, so relaxed, that the thought of leaving it, even for a day of pleasure in the city, makes me nervous.” She giggled.
“I’m sure you’ll have fun in New York,” Justine said, unable to keep the envy from her voice. She had wanted to go to the city. She wanted to now; she wanted to spend time with Mindy and some of her old friends. It was all coming back to her.
“And you’ll have a nice day in school. I’ll be home before you,” she added, “so don’t worry.”
“Oh, that’s all right. You don’t have to rush back. I…I’m thinking of joining the school newspaper,” she said quickly, “and there’s an organizational meeting after school.”
“That’s wonderful, Justine,” her father said. “You were never interested in such a thing before, though I always thought you had some writing talent.”
Justine shrugged. She couldn’t remember her father ever saying such a thing.
“It doesn’t matter what you do after school, honey,” Elaine said. “It’s important that you find someone here when you come home. We’re not going to be one of those latchkey families,” she added, and she and Justine’s father laughed as though she had just delivered the punch line to a private joke.
“I used to come home to an empty apartment often in the city.” Justine said. Her words broke their mood, and she regretted them immediately.
Her father’s smile evaporated and her mother looked as though she had cursed her.
“I mean…”
“You don’t have to remind us about our past mistakes,” Elaine said. “It was wrong then, especially considering where we lived.”
“Where we lived?”
“In New York!” her mother said, her eyes even wider. She looked like someone under electric shock treatment. Her entire face was distorted, her nostrils widening, her mouth stretching.
“But we lived in a good neighborhood,” Justine protested.
“No neighborhood in New York is safe,” her father said. “I didn’t need Dr. Lawrence to remind me of that.”
The mention of the doctor triggered Elaine.
“And the doctor’s right. Why are so many young people lost today? Because they don’t have a sense of family, a cohesion at home,” she replied. “Children should know when their parents will be home, when they’ll eat, when they have to do chores, and when they can talk about things with their parents. There should be no confusion and no doubt. You’d be surprised at how important this is for young people today,” she added.
Justine thought her mother sounded like a tape recording. She just stared at her.
Suddenly, her mother’s face started to crumple. “How many times have I failed to plan dinner because I was off to a matinee or out with some friends to see a new art exhibit? What about all those nights I left you and Daddy home alone? Have I ever sat down with you and planned out your work schedule, the way Christy Duke does with her boys?”
“Now, now, Elaine,” Kevin said, reaching across the table to put his hand over hers. “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
“I expected your father to do many of those things,” she said, refusing to be interrupted, “but it was an unfair expectation. He’s worked hard to build his career and provide a good life for us.”
She paused and took a breath, pulling herself up in the chair. Then her gaze turned to her daughter, but Justine saw no warmth in her mother’s pale blue eyes.
“As Dr. Lawrence says, most of the problems with teenagers today come about because parents don’t define their roles. Their children get confused and disorientated, set adrift in the world,” she added.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then her father sat back, smiling.
“Well,” he said. “This is going to be a wonderful day. The weather’s great; we’re all up, and there’s a smile on my face for the whole human race.”
Her mother laughed, and the mood swung back to the cheerful family breakfast. The radical change in moods was frightening. It was as though her parents had become a pair of schizophrenics. She watched them for a few moments, took some spoonfuls of cereal, then brought her dishes to the sink.
“I’ll take care of that,” her mother said. “You go finish getting ready for school. You don’t want to be late.”
“Want me to drive you, princess?” her father asked. She looked at him. She did want him to drive her, but she knew the other kids would be waiting at the bottom of the hill and none of them got rides from their parents. Also, she realized Michael Duke would be with her father; she couldn’t talk to him alone.
“No, we all walk to school together,” she replied.
“That’s right,” he said. “I forgot. What a great idea.”
“Wonderful children,” Elaine said. “Sticking together like that, giving each other a sense of identity. Everyone isn’t obsessed with himself as people often are in the city,” she added.
Kevin nodded. “Amen to that,” he said.
Justine excused herself and went up to her room to get her books and brush her hair one last time. Her hand was shaking as she did so and for a moment, she thought she would start to cry. Then, she suddenly heard that tiny ringing in her ear again. What was that? she wondered.
She looked out the window to see if there was anything out there that could have caused it—men working on electrical wires or telephone lines. But there was no one outside. It was as quiet as ever, only…only didn’t it look a little more dreary this morning? It was probably because of the overcast sky, she concluded.
She took a deep breath and went back downstairs. Her parents were saying good-bye to one another, acting as though they wouldn’t see one another for months.
She interrupted them with her good-bye, then hurried out to meet the others at the gate.
Janet Bernie looked up approvingly, noting that Justine was on time this morning. Although Justine sensed that Brad wanted her to walk alongside him again, s
he held back, hoping to make contact with Lois. She saw Brad’s disappointment as he started walking, and the group followed.
Lois studied her out of the corner of her eyes, looking for some sign. Justine did not forget the secret they shared. She did sense that she had more control of herself and her thoughts. Memories weren’t as vague as they were yesterday. She felt more like she did the day she’d arrived.
Finally, she pretended to drop a book, and Lois stopped to wait for her as she picked it up. They had a brief moment without the others around them.
“I didn’t take it,” she whispered.
Lois smiled and closed her eyes.
“And I’m beginning to see what you mean,” she added.
They quickly joined the others. Janet had already stopped to see what was holding them up. When Justine stole a quick glance at Lois, she saw her face beaming with hope, but she also caught her look of warning.
“Isn’t it a wonderful day?” she asked Brad, whose face lost its look of disappointment instantly. “I can’t wait to get to school,” she added, and everyone around her began to chatter about their homework, their classes, and their teachers.
Their conversation reeked of sweetness and purity. Despite Justine’s effort to indulge them, inside she was sneering. Every word rejuvenated her former dissatisfaction with these new friends. As they all walked along, the conversation and the laughter of the kids from Elysian Fields seemed stupid, inane.
Lois caught the change in her face. She stepped closer to her, subtly leading her a few feet away from the others. The only one who seemed to care at the moment was Brad, who kept glancing back at Justine.
“Don’t say anything. Just nod,” Lois said. “You feel different this morning, don’t you?” Justine nodded. “And you dislike these kids even more than you remember.” Justine nodded again, more emphatically this time. “You won’t want to hurry back as much after school,” Lois said. “But we’ve got to be careful. Just do what you did yesterday. Don’t give them any idea you feel differently about them.”
“But…”
“We’ll talk later. But we can’t arouse suspicion,” Lois said quickly and stepped forward to move up beside Janet Bernie.
“I can’t wait to see how Mr. Borris likes my diagrams. I’ve got every one right,” she bragged to Janet and the others.
“So do I,” Janet said.
Justine dropped a few steps farther behind. Lois’s abrupt change in behavior was unnerving, but she understood her motives. She looked back toward Elysian Fields, thinking about her parents again. She shuddered in anticipation of what it was going to be like when she returned home.
Although she was more in control of herself, she was more confused than ever. She couldn’t deny the vague fear that maybe the vitamins were good, that perhaps she shouldn’t have stopped taking them.
Where was all this danger that Lois kept suggesting? Did Lois really know what she was talking about? she wondered.
He was surprised to wake up and find himself unbound. If fact, it took him awhile to realize where he was. He was like someone who had been away for a very long time, so long that once familiar surroundings were now strange. He rose slowly and sat at the edge of his bed for a few moments, looking down at his legs. He had the impression that they had been sewed back on. He raised his arms to test his control of his limbs. Even his arms felt as if they had been reattached. And yet, a memory lingered: a vision of himself armless and legless.
It was all too vivid to just have been a nightmare. He could clearly recall someone coming into his room and putting him in a flat, rectangular basket with handles on the sides. She carried him from room to room. She washed him, dressed him, fed him, and then put him back in the bed.
Or was it a crib?
Could it be that he remembered being a baby? What about all the rest of it? The stuff that happened afterward, up until now? Why couldn’t he remember any of that?
The nurse stepped into his room, her arms folded under her bosom, her hands under her elbows. She stared at him a moment, and then bit on the inside of her left cheek as she shook her head.
“Why did you take off your pajama top and tie it around your waist, and why did you take off your pajama bottom and put your arm through the leg?” she asked. He looked down at himself. She was right.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Must have been some night,” she said. She came over to him and pulled the confused garments off his body.
“I forgot what happened to me since I was a baby,” he said.
“You didn’t forget. You just don’t want to remember. You’re reading about it all and you’re trying not to think of yourself as 001. The doctor expected that.”
“The doctor?”
“Your father, or don’t you remember you still have a father?”
“My father,” he repeated and turned to his television set. “Sure. He’s on channel three, right? Turn him on.”
“He’s not on television this morning. This morning he’s making a live appearance,” she said dryly as she threw an armful of clothes at him. “You remember which part goes where, or do I have to dress you?”
He looked at the underwear. It was coming back to him slowly. Carefully, he put on his briefs, and then pulled the T-shirt over his head.
“Wonderful,” she said. She looked at the hospital gown hanging on the inside of his closet door, and then shook her head. “Today you will get dressed like a normal person. Your father wants to take you out again.”
“Take you out again,” he repeated. Or was that his other self who said it, said it out of envy? He looked around, but there was no one else there.
He held up a pair of gray slacks and a short-sleeved, light blue shirt and she nodded. “What he expects to do with you, I’ll never know,” she said. “Your brains are scrambled eggs.”
“Scrambled eggs?”
“Oh, never mind.”
He stood up to dress himself. But when he put his shirt on as though it were a straitjacket, she had to reverse it.
She gave him a pair of dark gray socks. He studied them for a moment, and then put them on his feet, pulling them vigorously over his toes. She stood by, smiling. He stepped into his black, soft leather loafers and looked up proudly.
“I’m hungry,” he said, somewhat confused. “I mean, I’m supposed to be, right?”
“Considering it’s morning, yes. That’s quite normal. You’ll have breakfast, and then your father’s taking you out.”
He nodded and followed her to the kitchen.
When she brought the food to him, the definition of hunger came roaring back over him. He literally attacked his food, stabbing and poking the eggs, crushing the bread in his fist before stuffing it into his mouth. With an expression of amusement on her face, she watched him.
After a while, he began to handle the food and utensils in a more mannerly fashion. “It’s coming back,” he said. “Everything’s coming back.”
“You don’t want that,” she said. “Take my advice, pick and choose carefully.”
“All right. How old am I?”
“You’re twenty.”
“And my name is Eugene?” She nodded. “Eugene…what? Don’t I have a second name?”
“You do, but maybe you don’t want to remember it.”
“I do.”
“All right. Lawrence. Eugene Lawrence.”
“Eugene Lawrence,” he repeated, and then turned to the right and stared as if a ribbon of memories were floating by. There were voices, voices in an echo chamber.
“Eugene,” he heard. “Eugene…let go now, boy. You’ve got to let go, Eugene.”
“Easy with him.”
“Eugene, you’ve got to let go.”
“I’ve got to let go,” he said to the nurse.
“Oh, shit.” She grimaced. “Don’t tell me what you’re talking about now.”
“Let go, Eugene.”
“I can’t.”
He turned to the nurse.
“I can’t let go.”
“So, don’t let go. Jesus. Where is your father? He’s never late.”
“Eugene, you can’t keep holding on,” he heard. He needed to find the source of the voice. Suddenly there were more voices, coming at him from every direction. He spun around in his seat, turning in the direction from which each statement originated.
“Just get him out of there.”
“Don’t worry about it, just get him out.”
“Eugene, we’re taking you out. Don’t you want to let go?”
“Eugene, move your leg just a little more.”
“Try to let go.”
“Eugene.”
“Eugene Lawrence, can you hear what I’m saying?”
“Eugene.”
He put his hands over his ears. “Tell them to shut up.”
“Oh, great,” the nurse said, slamming down her coffee cup.
“I can’t stand it,” he said.
“This is great,” she repeated. She rushed out of the kitchen and returned quickly with a syringe.
He clasped his hands on his lap, squeezing the fingers against one another so tightly, he nearly snapped his wrists. He saw her approaching.
“No!”
“Eugene, take it easy.”
“Let go.”
“Move your leg just a little.”
“We’re taking you out.”
“You’ve got to let go.”
“Christ, what are we supposed to do?”
“Easy,” the nurse said. She rubbed his arm with a wad of cotton soaked in alcohol.
“No! Don’t cut off my arms. I’ll try to let go.”
“You’ve got to let go.”
“Move your leg just a little.”
“Lift him out. Forget it.”
“You lift him.”
“Eugene Lawrence, can you hear us?”
“Relax,” the nurse said. She poked him with the needle and his arm fell off, but the hand wouldn’t let go.
“He’s still holding on.”
“Christ, they don’t pay me enough for this. His arms are like vises. Help me, will ya.”
Perfect Little Angels Page 13
