Hysteria

by Elisabeth de Mariaffi

  — Dani!

  She grabbed the handle to her own bedroom door to push through, but her shoulder slammed against it instead. Locked. The knob rattled in her hand.

  — Dani! Are you in there?

  The handle refused to turn properly. It was not a room they ever locked, although there was a copper key, missing now, that normally sat in the latch on the outside of the door. A decorative feature. Heike got down on her knees and called through the keyhole.

  — Dani, are you in there? Are you in Mami’s room?

  She cranked at the knob again, pushing hard against the door. The action felt no different from the way she’d hacked at the reeds with her paddle to free herself, and she again felt trapped by the dark water, the current pulling her in. The room was dropping out; her vision crowded with tiny pinpricks of light. The back of her hand touched her cheek, and she realized she was in tears.

  She lay the hand on the doorknob again and this time it gave way, Eric pulling it open from the other side and now crouching to meet her, help her up, quizzical.

  — Heike. Heike, whatever’s happened?

  He reached out for her hand, lifting her properly to her feet and holding her there. Heike shook her head.

  — Why didn’t you open the door? I was crying to get in.

  Eric’s brow furrowed as though she were telling a story he couldn’t quite understand. Daniel was sitting up against her pillows on the bed. He had something, a toy of some kind, but he looked up as soon as she came into the room.

  — Mami! Mami’s home! He dropped his plaything and crawled forward. Heike rushed toward him and grabbed him up, then sat with him on the bed, her lips in his hair, rocking.

  — Why didn’t you answer me, Dani? Why didn’t you say something when you heard me calling?

  Eric stepped closer, following her in.

  — We played hide-and-seek with you, Daniel said.

  — Yes, I see that, Heike said.

  — Me and Daddy hided in here.

  Heike looked at Eric. He was somewhat neater than earlier in the day, as though he’d spent the afternoon on his own care. If it hadn’t been so late, she’d think he was on his way to the clinic. His shoes were on and polished. There was something curious, gentle, in the way he looked at her.

  — The bedroom door has no lock, Heike, he said.

  — It was locked, she said. You heard me!

  — Heike. Eric crossed over to where she sat on the bed. Do you need something to calm you down? You’re soaking wet. He touched her forehead. You’re raving, Heike. Let me give you something.

  She stood up suddenly, leaving Daniel behind.

  — You already gave me something: you gave me a heart attack. You locked the door! How could you be so cruel?

  He raised a hand and let it fall against his own hip.

  — I just told you, that door doesn’t lock. Calm down now, Heike. Or I could drive you over to the hospital. Would you like that better?

  Heike turned back to Daniel on the bed. He’d picked up his toy again, and now that she looked closer, she saw what it was: the little shepherdess, the Meissen figurine she’d hidden in her drawer. He tilted his hand, left to right to left, walking her along the coverlet.

  Heike dropped onto the bed beside him and reached out to touch the doll.

  — Where did you get this?

  — I finded it, Daniel said. Daddy helped. When we were hiding.

  7.

  Out on the road, the late-afternoon light was unfiltered. Only a thin film of water shimmering off the telephone wires and the puddles in the ditch, deep and almost clean-looking, left a trace of the rain that had come through. The asphalt itself was pale and dry.

  Daniel lay against the bench in the back seat. Eric lit a cigarette, his window down and the wind whipping at the crumbling ash. They had the radio on, and Heike rolled the dial between her thumb and forefinger, looking for something you could dance to. It was warm in the car, and she tucked her dress under her legs so that her skin wouldn’t stick against the vinyl.

  The look on her face when she saw that porcelain figurine, Eric had said. He knew he’d gone too far. He’d brought her a glass of ice water in the bath. Daniel played in the next room so that she could hear him.

  — I had no idea you’d brought anything with you out of Germany, Eric said. You’re full of secrets.

  Heike had sipped at the water and said nothing.

  Then, thinking better of the silence, she set the glass down and tried to smile.

  — How long was Dani awake before I got home?

  — Oh, I don’t know. Twenty minutes? Not long. We had a little time together.

  — Did he show you his drawing?

  — What do you mean?

  — This morning, while I was making breakfast, he was very busy drawing at the kitchen table. He made a Mickey Mouse. You should see it; it’s so cute. He’s really very good for his age.

  The corner of Eric’s lips curled up, just on one side. Amused by her.

  — That’s funny. He told me you sent him outside to play with Rita this morning.

  — Why would I do that?

  — He said he wanted to stay inside, but you shooed him out the door. Are you sure you’re remembering correctly?

  — Of course I remember. Don’t be silly.

  Heike had picked up the glass again and held it against her lips, not drinking from it. Eric reached out and tucked her hair behind one ear.

  — Maybe you’re thinking of a different day. You’re more delicate than you know. We have to take care of you, he said.

  He’d suggested a little dinner out, just the three of them. An apology, he said, for riding her so hard all day long.

  She was surprised when they passed through Ithaca without stopping.

  — It’s early yet, Eric said. He passed her his cigarette to hold and she relit it for him with the red ember of the car lighter. She was looking out the window at the houses, white and wooden and barely set back from the road. There’s a particular taste to a cigarette lit for the second time.

  They were between the lakes. He’d bought himself a new hat a few days earlier and fit it onto his head in front of the hall mirror before they left, admiring the angle of it. When it was satisfactory, he’d pulled his billfold from his pocket and counted out twenty-five dollars.

  — Here, he said. Why don’t you buy yourself a new dress. Or two of them. Pair of party shoes. He held the bills out for her to take. I just want you to be happy, he said.

  Heike folded the money in her hand, two tens and a five. Eric took a last look at himself. He’d caught her eye in the mirror:

  — I only spent fifteen on the hat, you know.

  She nodded, and closed the hand tighter.

  These houses belonged to poor people, Heike decided now. Landlocked little properties with zigzag fences, pretending to be farms, and the people in them mechanics or cashiers or girls like Rita. Now and then you could see a vegetable plot set to one side, where the fence rails were missing or fallen down. There was a dog lying out on a tether in one driveway, lapping at a puddle, and at the next, another dog, loose, chased along beside the car, its paws battering the rough shoulder of the road. The dogs looked matted and forgotten, and she wondered if they were fed properly or just sent out into the woods. Eric was talking to her. The dog chasing them turned back. They had reached the end of his domain.

  It wasn’t the hangover so much as the gambling, Eric said. It made him reckless. It made him feel like he could spit on the world. He’d meant to bring her some flowers, but perhaps the new dress would do.

  — Why are we going to the hospital? Heike still held the cigarette, but it was burnt down to the filter now and she threw it out the window. She’d recognized the turn near the bottom of Seneca and sat up a bit smarter, remembering his earlier remark. Almost a threat. His new jovial mood too hard to trust.

  Eric pulled a case out of his breast pocket and flipped it open with one hand, offering her a new
cigarette to light.

  — For me, he said.

  He let the cigarette case slip onto her lap. Heike gave the lighter a slow push to heat it up. The lake spread out ahead of them, and if she leaned just slightly out the window, she imagined she could still see Cayuga in the rear-view mirror. Or the light off the water, anyway.

  — I’ve been waiting for a certain package to arrive, Eric said. Research chemicals.

  — Yes, you told me. Remember? Your little bottles. But it wasn’t what you wanted?

  — Wrong stuff. Interesting, but no, not what I wanted. The details would bore you. I’m afraid that’s why I was such a bear all day. The hospital pharmacist is a skinflint, but there’s another doctor. Someone I knew in the army. I just need enough to finish this project, and then maybe we’ll go back to the city, yes?

  — Back to New York? What for?

  Eric switched hands on the steering wheel and reached over to pat her knee.

  — Don’t worry, everything’s fine. Look, I’m cheered up! You can go for a little walk in the gardens. You and Dani. Then we’ll drive back into Ithaca for supper. What do you want, a steak?

  He pulled up next to an outbuilding. They could see the main hall from where they sat.

  — All gone in to have their dinner, Eric said. You’d think the place was abandoned.

  He let the engine die.

  — What’s in there? Heike said.

  — Nothing. Workshop building.

  — A workshop. Like for crafts? Or real working? She twisted around to look at Daniel in the back seat. His eyes were closed, and she could see movement under the lids. Dreaming. He had a stuffed bear in one hand, half-tucked under his leg for safekeeping.

  The grounds stretched out warm and glowing in the low evening light. Eric had told her once how they used to keep patients chained up in the basement. Like a French prison, he said, and now it was all Heike could think of when she looked at the place.

  She tapped a finger against the cigarette case.

  — Eric? Let’s go. Dani is already sleeping, and it will be hard to wake him up for dinner.

  Eric seemed suddenly at peace, intent on watching the sunset behind the hall. The lighter popped out and he reached for his cigarette, the paper browning at the edges with his inhale.

  — There he is.

  Eric hunched into the windshield. Heike followed his gaze. There was a man walking across the field, toward the building. The light was still strong enough behind him, his silhouette curving at the shoulders. An old man.

  — Who is that? she said.

  — Marek.

  — And he is a doctor?

  — Patient.

  The man moved steadily along, his head down, following the walking path.

  — What’s wrong with him?

  — Nothing.

  Eric’s body relaxed and he leaned on the steering wheel with one arm.

  — What do you mean?

  — Nothing, Eric said. I like to watch him.

  — Why don’t you let him go? Heike squinted.

  — He’s been here since the twenties, Eric said. Or earlier. Must’ve been sick sometime. I asked him if he came here after the war, and he said he fought for the Kaiser. Older than you think.

  — So he’s German?

  Eric didn’t answer. He held up one hand, thumb out, like a painter judging perspective. Heike realized what he was really doing: blocking the old man out. Erasing him.

  — They call it the bughouse, he said. And there he is, cutting his little path every day like an ant in an ant farm. He closed the hand and brought it away from his eyes, as though he were checking to see if the old man was still there. Spend your life under some other man’s thumb, he said.

  The heavy door swung open and Marek disappeared into the building.

  — Surely you have to send him home. You say he’s not mad.

  Eric started the motor again, and the car crawled down the drive toward the main parking lot. He tipped a little ash out the window.

  — What’s home? He says he fought for the Kaiser; maybe he worked at Kaiser Deli in Brooklyn. How should I know? Some of them get brought in by train, all the way from California. He eased into a spot and killed the motor. Madness follows you like a dog, he said. These people, who knows where they’re from. That’s why we say committed. No way out once you’re in.

  Heike leaned down to tuck her purse under her seat, pausing there for a moment to look at him. She reached back and gave Daniel’s leg a little shake.

  — Dani. Hey. Naptime’s over.

  Daniel kicked his feet in a kind of protest, but his eyes opened. Eric took a last look through the windshield for Marek, but the field was empty. He leaned back and tapped the rear-view so he could see himself and adjusted the new hat.

  — Besides, Eric said. He digs all the graves. What would we do without him?

  HEIKE OPENED THE BACK DOOR of the car, and Daniel swung his legs toward her. He’d kicked off his sandals on the ride. He wiggled his toes.

  — Daniel, stop. Let Mami buckle your shoes.

  But he wiggled some more, until Heike grabbed the toes with one hand and jammed the sandal on with the other.

  — I want to go with Daddy.

  Eric was off across the lot already, two hundred feet away, his briefcase swinging.

  — No, we go for a little walk. Then supper. What do you want to eat? You want some ice cream?

  — I want a shrimp, Daniel said. I want shrimps in a cup with cold sauce.

  She tugged his hand, and he hopped down out of the car. The door swung its wide arc and shut heavily. They stood there for a moment, holding hands and watching Eric walk away. He climbed the steps to the main door, and then he was gone.

  — Now, Heike said. Which way do we go? She pointed ahead to where two trails cut through the grass. Daniel let go of her hand and ran up between them. Heike followed, the soles of her shoes sliding a little on the wet path. She swung her arms up into the air.

  — Look out! Here comes the monster! The monster is chasing you!

  Daniel shrieked and disappeared behind a bank of shrubs. They played at this for a while, Heike hurrying along behind him whenever he got too far away. On either side of them were lilacs, out of bloom now, arched and leafy. She could see the orchard from where she stood, and the farm to the south of that. The path was not quite paved but beaten down with time and had been layered with gravel, although not recently, Heike thought. The grounds were maintained in a good-enough way by the patients themselves, who worked for free as part of their rehabilitation.

  It’s good for them to have an occupation: Eric’s explanation when he’d first told her of the practice. Plenty of fresh air to be had working the gardens and livestock. (And in the sewing room? And the slaughterhouse? Also fresh air? Heike said. This made Eric sulk, and he’d ignored her for the rest of the evening. At bedtime he’d held her gently from behind and pushed her thighs apart with one hand, moving into her fast and hard and leaning close to whisper that her kind of people should never make jokes about work camps. Arbeit macht frei, Heike. Don’t forget what you come from. Don’t forget what you did.)

  Daniel disappeared into a lilac bush and suddenly cried out:

  — I’m stuck!

  Heike pressed a branch down and held it with her foot while he climbed out and ran on to the next one. The branches were full and green, and she combed at the leaves with one hand and wondered if the flowers had been white or purple in the spring.

  — The little one is full from energy.

  The voice surprised her. She turned toward it, and the branch jerked up from under Heike’s foot, thwacking sharply back into place. She stepped back. The old man, Marek, stood a few feet away from her. He was not much taller than Heike. Mostly bald, with a whitening fringe of hair over his ears and a thick grey moustache. Apart from a few deep lines, his age didn’t show. He wore a striped shirt, buttoned to the collar, and a dark jacket over top, also buttoned. His arms hung at hi
s sides.

  — It’s not so often we can see children here, he said. His English was practiced but broken.

  — My husband is a doctor, Heike said. She gestured with an arm toward the main hall. We are just visiting. Then, testing him: Mein Mann ist hier Arzt. Hier im Spital.

  Marek tilted his head back in understanding but didn’t say anything in German or English, and Heike wondered if she’d set him on edge. Or if Eric was wrong about him: his mind was gone. Daniel was calling to her, and she let him call, watching Marek’s face.

  — You live here? she said.

  — Ja, hier, hier.

  — Hier im Spital? In the hospital?

  Marek shook his head. He lifted a hand and looked at her almost affectionately, as though she also were a child, then pointed out into the field, away from the farm, out past the workshop building where Eric had first stopped the car.

  — Im Spital nicht, nicht. Nicht! Meine Wohnung. I’ hab’ meine eigene Wohnung g’baut, i’ selbst.

  He had his own house. Heike looked around, following his gaze.

  — Where is your house? Here?

  But Marek had stopped talking. He rocked back on his heels and put his hands in his pockets. Heike checked on Daniel over her shoulder. He was crouched low in the grass, playing with something there.

  — A little friend, ja? Noch ein Kamerad, das Kindlein da?

  Heike turned back to Marek. His meaning was a little lost to her. She wondered how often he got a chance to speak to another person, someone from outside.

  He gestured again with a hand, this time toward Daniel and then back to Heike, adding a slight bow of the head in her direction: A little friend.

  — Nein, nein, no friend. He’s my own, my son. She touched her belly. Mein Sohn, mein eigenes Baby.

  The old man’s eyes clouded for a moment, as though he were perplexed, but then he crossed his arms and his mouth opened to laugh. He tipped his head in Daniel’s direction: