by Tenaya Jayne
When Lyle returned to his apartment, he spent over an hour collecting his thoughts, and writing down what he thought he might say. He went online to check the balance in his bank account, seeing how much he had to spare, and calculating how much the favor would probably cost him. When he felt ready, he took a deep breath, and called the front desk at the hospital.
"Good morning. Thank you for calling Aspen Grove Psychiatric Hospital. This is Tina, how may I help you?" Tina said the falsely polite words very quickly, considering that she had a full mouth of food.
Lyle felt relieved that Tina had answered. He considered her the daffiest broad he had ever met, and it was unlikely she would remember he had called at all, if anyone ever asked.
"Hi, yeah Tina, it’s Lyle Archer."
"Oh, hey, Lyle. What do you need?" she asked, relaxing her manner.
"I just need to know if Perry is going to be working tonight. Could you give a quick look at the chart, please?" Lyle asked casually.
"No problem. Hold please."
Lyle sighed in irritation. She had him on hold for three whole minutes. He knew she didn’t have any other calls, and the chart was hanging right in front of her. She was taking the time to finish her food.
"Yes," she said when she came back on the line, her mouth full again. "Perry is working tonight."
"Thanks Tina." He quickly hung up before she could ask him why he wanted to know.
Perry worked the night shift and was paid very well to sit on his fat butt and stare at the monitors. He alerted Dr. Phelps when anything was out of the ordinary, or called for the orderlies when a patient was out of control. He was a dirty, middle-aged man, who really enjoyed his job, especially when he got to see someone dressing, picking their nose, and things of that nature. This was the slime ball Lyle had to pay off.
Glancing over at the clock, Lyle knew better than to call Perry at eleven a.m. He was asleep for sure, and the last thing Lyle wanted was to make him mad. Having some time to kill and feeling jumpy, Lyle set his alarm again and went back to bed.
Dulcee was feeling better than she had in a very long time. She had taken a shower, fixed her hair, and ate a large breakfast. She was peaceful and cheery. The hospital buzzed all around her in its usual machinery, but she didn’t feel a part of it. It didn’t matter to her in the least what happened today, as long as the plan was working. She felt like a child on the last day of school. Nothing could dampen her spirits. It was only a matter of time.
Dr. Verell was in her office battling her nervous agitation. Dulcee’s notebook, which she knew almost verbatim by now, was resting safely in the top drawer of her desk. She had arrived at work early and had been thoroughly told off by Jean for not answering her calls, or coming to the door when she had come to check on her. Dr. Verell had only replied that she was very sick and didn’t want to give the flu to her friend, and that she didn’t return her calls because she had lost her voice.
Jean didn't believe her and had stomped away hurt and angry. This made Dr. Verell feel extremely wretched, but she pushed it down, deciding she would deal with Jean later. She had the feeling that something big was about to happen, and she was sure that a tiff with Jean was not it.
Dr. Verell sent for Dulcee. There was most certainly something different about today. She could feel it. Dulcee came into the office, an orderly at her side. She held her head high and sat down gracefully. Dr. Verell was shaken by her calm demeanor and especially by the smile on her face.
"Good Morning, Dr. Verell. Had a nice week off?" Dulcee inquired as though she was a friend, and the two of them were sitting down to tea.
Dr. Verell cleared her throat. "Uh, no. I was sick with the flu."
"Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. You do feel better now though? I don’t want to catch what you’ve got," Dulcee chuckled. "And of course, it’s very rude to expose your friends and co-workers to germs, you know."
Dr. Verell scowled. Dulcee’s pleasant attitude was condescending, and she felt a prick of irritation; she was the doctor after all.
"How have you been in the last week, Dulcee?"
"Oh, just peachy! Vincent came to visit me, and we had the best time," she said, smiling.
"What do you mean he came to visit you? He came to the hospital?"
"Well, I’m in the hospital, aren’t I? I think with your impressive education," Dulcee waved her hand around at the diplomas, and awards hung on the wall, "that you can figure that one out."
Dr. Verell’s scowl increased in severity. "What I meant was, did he arrive here and sit in the rec. room with you, or did you and he visit in your dreams?"
"What do you think, Doc?"
"Well, I think that you’ve had an episode. I think that you are not striving for your own recovery, and I think that…"
Dulcee cut her off, now dropping her false politeness and speaking over her. "I think that you are full of crap!"
Dr. Verell shut her mouth and blinked in shock.
"Would you like to know more of what I think?" Dulcee asked aggressively.
"Yes," she said quietly. "But only if you are going to be honest. I want the truth from you."
"If the truth is what you seek, then you must be truthful in return. If I give you my truth, then you must give me yours. Agreed?" Dulcee asked, raising her eyebrows.
"Agreed."
"And," Dulcee added, "You will speak to me as your equal and not as your patient."
"All right. Who starts?"
"Well, you’re the one with the questions, Doc. You start."
"Why did you just say that? That I am full of crap, I mean?"
Dulcee rolled her eyes. "Is that what you really care about? You want to know my opinion of you as a doctor?"
"Of course I want to know," she said.
"Fine. I know squat about being a psychiatrist, I’m not one, and I’ve never had one before you. But I’m sure you have not acted with me the way you do with your other patients. You display jealously and cattiness, as if you were a teenager. You have an unprofessional manner that I don’t appreciate. I don’t see you caring what happens to me at all. All I can see is that you want to steal Vincent from me. I know you will argue that you want me to give up my fantasies, but that is not the truth. You want him for yourself. That is what I believe. So, what do you have to say about that?" Dulcee folded her arms across her chest, feeling relived to have said it.
Dr. Verell sighed, realizing Dulcee spoke the truth, but she wasn't going to admit it if she could help it, even though she promised to tell the truth in return.
"I’m sorry you feel that way, Dulcee."
Dulcee grunted in response.
"It’s true that I have not been very professional. I apologize for that. I have never had a patient with a case like yours before, and I'm going through a divorce. I think I’m a little confused right now about relationships. Can you understand that?" She was unable to stop herself from speaking down to Dulcee, as though she were a five-year-old.
Dulcee felt a surge of anger flare up inside her, but she took a calming breath, determined not to get thrown into solitary.
"I see," Dulcee said, pursing her lips. "What I understand is that you are not keeping your end of the bargain, Doc. You said that you would tell the truth. I can see into your deceitful heart! So, if you would like to ask me a real question, please do so."
Dr. Verell looked as if Dulcee had just slapped her. She put her head in her hands for a moment, realizing that this was not going to be as easy as she had hoped. She was pinned between feeling, at least in some respects, superior, and at the same time hopelessly inferior. Jealousy buzzed like electricity inside her every pore. Dulcee’s Vincent was pure, his purity a reflection of what he saw in her. Verell’s apparition of Vincent had done her the same service. Showed her what lies within. Could it have been real?
When Dr. Verell spoke, her voice was low and she looked scared. She had to ask, terrified, yet driven to have an answer.
"Okay. Have you ever dreamed about me
?"
Dulcee blinked at her a few times and then sneered. "Are you a lesbian?"
"No. That's not what I…"
"Is that why you are getting a divorce?"
"No."
"Having romantic thoughts about me, are you? I wonder what that would do to your career, if I accused you of making advances toward me."
Dr. Verell slammed her fist down on the desk and stood up. "STOP IT! Stop it right now or I’ll put you in solitary and up your meds so high you’ll be drooling!"
Dulcee shut up instantly and wiped the smug expression from her face.
"You might not care what I think, Missy, but I still have the power here."
"Fine. Are we done for today?" Dulcee asked indignantly.
"No," Dr. Verell said tersely, sitting back down.
The two women stared at each other, both incensed. Dulcee was edgy and Dr. Verell was panting. She waited for Dr. Verell to breathe normally again before she said anything else.
"My dreams are sacred to me. They are personal. I won’t share them with you, but I will tell you this one thing…I wouldn’t say that I have dreamed about you, but I have seen you in a dream, just once. And it was only a glimpse, that’s all."
"Thank you for answering my question. Will you tell me, if you can remember when it was that you glimpsed me in your dream?"
"Actually, it was just about a week ago, give or take a day."
Dr. Verell felt winded, and her hands were shaking. She knew it was the same night that she had seen Dulcee in her dream. She felt such an overwhelming stab of fear that the words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them,
"You’re mad," she whispered.
Dulcee licked her lips, thinking how best to respond.
"Well, there it is," she said slowly.
Dr. Verell looked horrified. She regretted what she had just said and she listened to Dulcee without interrupting her.
"Maybe I am mad, but you share in my madness. So do many other women. My whole life, from the moment I was born, has been a disappointment. A long, tiring ride of neglect and abuse. Maybe madness was my only option, my only chance at having the things I was denied. Women turn to fantasies for the same reason men turn to porn. Reality simply isn’t good enough. Reality won’t satisfy for long. Isn’t that why your marriage failed? You sat up nights next to your balding, snoring husband, wishing he was someone else. Don’t deny it, I know it’s true. That’s why you want Vincent. You say I’m mad, I say you’re jealous. Even if you have dreamed about him, it wasn’t really him. Just so you know that. The Vincent you dreamed about is just your own creation, not my Vincent."
Dr. Verell swallowed and could only manage to whisper. "I’m not so sure of that."
Angry fire flashed through Dulcee’s eyes, but she kept her voice neutral. "We’re finished here."
Dr. Verell glared at Dulcee, feeling borderline violent toward her. She thought about drawing it out and making her sit there, but she knew that no matter what else she might say, it was over. Dulcee would give no more reply.
Dr. Verell felt enraged at herself for messing up the chance she had. She nodded curtly and Dulcee got up and left the office. She was met at the door by the orderly who brought her in, and grabbing her by the arm, he escorted her back to her room.
The heavy metal door of Dulcee’s room closed slowly behind the orderly. She leaned against it and slid down to the floor. The anger she felt was starting to fade. What did it matter anyway? If luck was with her, she would never have to see Dr. Verell again.
Dulcee sat on the cold floor, thinking on that pleasant thought. The clock ticked slowly on, drawing her nearer to Vincent. She sighed, impatient. Something caught her attention. In the shadow under her bed, something was glimmering. She scooted over to her bed and reached under it.
"Oh! I love you, Vincent!" Dulcee sobbed, as she extracted her snow globe. "Thank you."
Dr. Verell sat stone still for a long time after Dulcee left. She pulled the notebook from her desk and placed it in front of her. For the first time, she looked at it with loathing. Dr. Verell canceled the rest of her day and went home, knowing that her behavior in the last few weeks had drawn the attention of the hospital director, and her job was hanging in the balance. But she left all the same, sure that she could not finish her day. Reckless was too stingy a word.
Another two hours passed and Lyle awoke from his nap, alert and anxious. It was almost time to call Perry. Lyle made some coffee, ate a candy bar, and collected his thoughts before picking up the phone. He was nervous and his pulse was gaining in speed as he dialed the number, even though he was sure this was going to be no problem. The phone rang three times before Perry picked it up.
"Yeah," Perry answered lazily, his phone manners as eloquent as his hygiene.
"Hey, Perry. It’s Lyle," he was trying as hard as he could to sound relaxed.
"Oh, wuz up, Sucka?" Perry piped up, always trying to sound younger than he was.
Lyle quickly conformed to his grungy, half-drunk attitude.
"Hey man, you won’t believe how big I scored."
"Oh yeah?" inquired Perry, his interest piquing "Who was she? Was she hot?"
"Well, I haven’t had her yet."
"Come on, Man! You got me all interested for nothing. That figures though, who would go for you, anyway?" Perry chuckled at his own weak wit.
Lyle rolled his eyes. As if Perry could talk, he thought, but all was going just right so far.
"Listen," Lyle cut in over Perry’s continuing laughter. "It’s gonna happen tonight!"
Perry quit laughing. "Aren’t you working tonight?"
"Yes."
Lyle could almost hear the gears turning in Perry’s head.
"Who are you getting it on with at the hospital?" Perry asked mockingly. "Drooling Diane or Repeat Everything You Say Rachel?"
Lyle gave a little false chuckle. "You’re gonna stop laughing in a second."
"Sure I will, Stud to the psycho ward!" Perry’s laughter was almost choking him.
Lyle waited. He wanted his full attention.
"Perry."
"Yeah, what?" he asked, laughter still in his voice.
"Dulcee."
Lyle smiled with satisfaction at the pronounced silence on the other end of the phone, waiting for the explosion.
"No way!" Perry erupted into the phone. "For real?"
"Yeah, for real. But look man, I need your help so we don’t get caught."
"Hey, that’s cool. No problem. Bring me a case of beer and fifty bucks and we’ll call it even. And just so you know, you better not be all worried about your privacy because I’m telling you right now, I’m gonna watch."
Lyle sighed, irritated at Perry’s open indecency. "Deal."
"Alright then," Perry said in closing.
"Yeah, later."
Lyle hung up the phone and took a deep breath, he was drenched in sweat and his nerves felt rattled, but it had worked. Lyle looked over at the clock, his shift started in three hours.
When evening feathered its way across the sky, Dr. Verell could be found passed out on her couch. When she had arrived home from work, she sat in her car, parked in the driveway for nearly an hour. She stared up at the house she had called home since she was nineteen, but it didn't belong to her anymore. Some other woman would claim it, just as that same woman had claimed her husband. Everything about the house would change from its closet contents, to the landscaping in the front yard, maybe there might even be children.
When that thought crossed her mind she put her hand on her stomach. There would never be a child there. She sighed and shook her head, feeling stupid. There was no place for her, she no longer belonged in that big house, she had no family, and she was about to lose her job. She let these thoughts and feelings overwhelm her. When she finally entered the house, she went right for the liquor cabinet without even removing her coat, and began to drink herself to sleep.
The evening sky was purple and green. All the storm clo
uds had traveled on and everything was clean and fresh outside. The hospital was in its "settle down for bed time" mode. Everyone had eaten and been given their medications and were now getting cozy in front of the TV. Dulcee didn’t go to the rec. room with all the others. She sat in her room, clinging to her snow globe, and waiting.
The light outside her window was fading into darkness. She listened to her every breath, felt her heart beating, sending blood through her body. There was still time to change her mind. She hadn't passed the point of no return.
