As Doctor Scanlon had explained, later that day I was taken for tests. Electrodes were placed on my head and machines read my brain waves. Doctor Scanlon's interns supervised and studied the results, although no one told me what they were. I was simply brought back to my room and put to bed. When I complained, Mrs. Roundchild permitted me to sit in a chair for a while, as long as I didn't walk around or try to leave the room.
I sat there all day, thinking about my memories, feeling the details fill in, the colors and shapes growing richer and richer with each passing minute. It was as if my recollections, which began as simple line drawings, were now being painted by a wonderful artist. Not only did pictures and words return, but aromas, scents, and tastes did as well. More than ever, I wanted my mother. I cried for her all day, but no one listened. Every time Mrs. Roundchild or one of the interns appeared, they offered me promises, punctuating every hope with "Soon."
Soon was not soon enough, I thought. Only right now was soon enough. Because I became more vocal in my demands, Mrs. Roundchild had me returned to bed and strapped in again. She called Doctor Scanlon and then came back to my room to inform me that he wanted me to take my medication earlier than usual tonight. She said he claimed I was about to make a dramatic breakthrough. Once again, they held up the promise that this would all be over. . . soon.
I took the pills after dinner and immediately fell asleep. In moments I was drifting on the sea. I was in the sailboat and Robert was smiling with pride at his ability to guide us over the waves. We were heading for a cove. It was coming back to me with the promise of love and all that lay just around the bend.
.
In my dreams I saw Robert and this girl who appeared to be me pull the sailboat onto the shore quickly and, laughing and teasing each other, go up the beach. I saw her fall to the sand and then I saw him fall first to his knees, and then to all fours above her. He gazed down at her, his eyes full of love, and he reached out to touch her hair, her cheek, to let her hold his fingers to her lips so she could kiss the tips of them. The girl moaned and the boy leaned over to kiss her softly on the lips, moving his mouth up her face, over her cheeks to her closed eyes.
For a while, he touched her only with his lips. He held himself above her, moving to her forehead, her hair, and then back to her lips before moving to her neck and then, ever so gently, lifting up her shirt.
In the distance the clouds began to gather. Neither the boy nor the girl noticed the change in the wind, the hectic and nervous cries of the birds, or the lift of the water as the tide rushed in faster, higher. They were completely entranced with each other, mesmerized, lost in the whisper of their own voices pledging endless love, promising.
I saw them undress, peel their clothes away quickly, but not roughly. Naked beneath the sky, they held each other first gently, and then desperately, wanting their lovemaking to be bigger, greater, more intense than it had ever been before. And it was.
Exhausted, they collapsed against each other, held each other tight. With this exquisite exhaustion came contentment. They closed their eyes and remained entwined, soon falling asleep. I tried to cry out a warning, but they couldn't hear me.
The sky darkened. The wind grew stronger. The water rose and fell with a slam against the rocks, and the small sailboat was washed away from shore. By the time they finally woke, the boat was out to sea.
Suddenly, I was no longer a third party, an observer. I was on the beach, shouting. Robert was swimming desperately for the boat. I saw it all and rushed forward to help him. That was when the darkness fell again, slamming my memory closed, ripping the sounds away, leaving me in a terrifying silence.
"Robert," I called. I started to swing my arms about madly until I felt someone holding me and opened my eyes to see Lawrence at my side.
"Laura, Laura," he cried.
I reached up for him and he embraced me.
"Were you having another bad dream?" he asked. "Maybe the medicine is causing your nightmares."
"I don't know," I sobbed. "I've got to get out of here, Lawrence. They don't really want to help me. They just keep giving me drugs that make me sleep and keep me weak. I want to go home, Lawrence. I know who my parents are and I know where I live. I remember almost everything! I've got to go home right away."
"You want to leave the clinic now? Tonight?" he asked.
"Yes, desperately. They're turning me into some sort of guinea pig, using me for a study. They want to prolong my treatment for as long as they can. I know they do. I want to go home. Help me, please," I begged.
He thought a moment. I pressed my fingers around his hand firmly.
"Okay, Laura," he said. "I'll help you, if that's what you really want to do."
"Thank you, Lawrence. Thank you."
I undid the strap around my waist and ripped the blanket away. Lawrence undid the strap around my legs and I started to get out of bed.
"Wait," he said. "Let me think first."
"There's no time to think. Get me out of here, Lawrence. Please."
"You need clothes, Laura. You can't go outside like that," he said. "I know. When we get downstairs, we'll go to your old room and get something for you to wear and then we'll go to the door off the kitchen, the one I showed you," he said.
"Yes, yes. But we've got to hurry."
"We've got to be careful," he corrected. "If we're caught, they're sure to take more drastic measures with both of us." He went to the door and peered out. "It looks clear," he said.
I swung my feet over the side of the bed and stood. For a moment I swayed and nearly fell, but I steadied myself quickly. He came to me to take my arm, and we both went to the door. He looked again.
"When we go out, we go around the corner and take the first door on the left, Laura. We'll go down the stairway and stop at the bottom floor so I can check the corridor again. I've done this enough times already to be an expert. Don't worry," he added.
I nodded, eager.
Lawrence took my hand and led me from the mom to the doorway. We slipped away quickly and started down the steps. My head was spinning, but I didn't let on how dizzy I was until I slipped on the landing and he had to catch and hold me.
"You're so weak, Laura. How can you leave the clinic?" "I can do it, Lawrence. Once I'm away and out in fresh air, I'll be fine
-
He held me for another indecisive moment, and then he guided me down the next flight of steps, until we were at the bottom floor and he was checking the hallway. After a few moments, he nodded and we scurried out and down the hallway to the residential area. Minutes later, we were in my old bedroom. We didn't put on the lights for fear of attracting attention. I went to the closet and found a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, but there were no shoes or sneakers. I had to wear my slippers.
Lawrence remained at the doorway with his back to me as I dressed.
I paused by the small table and looked at the journal! had been keeping for Doctor Southerby. No one had bothered giving it to Doctor Scanlon. I was tempted to take it with me, but hesitated. I didn't want any reminders of this place, if I could help it, I thought. I wanted to leave this place behind me for good.
"I'm ready," I announced.
Lawrence looked at me and shook his head. He didn't move.
"What?" I asked.
"I can't let you do this by yourself, Laura. I'm going to go with you."
"You're going to leave the clinic, too?"
"Yes," he said. I could almost feel him trembling in the dark. Lawrence had told me that he hadn't been off the grounds for years.
"You don't have to do that, Lawrence."
"I want to," he said.
He watched the corridor and indicated I should be still. Seconds later, we heard talking and through the crack in the doorway saw Billy and Arnie walk down the corridor. They paused near my door. Billy whispered something to Arnie and they broke out into laughter as they continued down the hallway, disappearing around the corner.
"Now," Lawrence said, and
we shot out and hurried down the hallway to the cafeteria. Just before we reached the kitchen, the doors opened and a janitor stepped out pushing a pail on rollers. He didn't look right or left or he would have seen us with our backs against the wall, watching him go through the cafeteria and out into the hall. We waited.
I looked at Lawrence. He seemed suddenly frozen against the wall.
"Shouldn't we go now?" I asked him. He nodded, but he didn't move.
"Maybe you should go back, Laura. I don't know if this is the right thing to do. No," he concluded. "It isn't. I shouldn't have done this. Please, let's go back," he said. He was trembling badly, and even in the subdued light, I saw how white his complexion had turned.
"No, I can't go back. I have to leave," I said. I started away and entered the kitchen myself. Moments later, Lawrence was behind me.
"How will you get home?" he asked when we confronted the metal door.
"I don't know."
"You don't even know which way to go. Laura, this is wrong," he said, seizing my arm to hold me back. "Laura. ."
His voice seemed to die away after he pronounced my name, the word falling lower and lower as if everything he was saying were being said from the top of a deep well and I was on the very bottom. I felt like I was shrinking.
"Laura. . . don't go. Laura . . come back."
"Yes, Robert," I said. "I'm coming back."
"What? Laura, it's me. Lawrence."
I went to the door.
"Laura! Wait!"
I pushed the door open and stepped out into the night, and then, I heard him calling again.
"Laura, come back! Come back!"
"Yes," I said. "I'm coming, Robert.Ill be there soon."
I turned and started around the building. Above me, the sky was thick with clouds. There were no stars, no promises for tomorrow.
I stumbled, but ignored the pain. I could hear his voice in the wind. Sometimes it was loud and sometimes it sounded far, far away.
"Laura, wait. Where are you going? You can't get to the highway that way. Laura."
Lawrence grabbed me at the elbow and spun me around.
"Laura, what are you doing? You lost your slipper back there," he said and gave it to me. I stared at it a moment and then at him.
"I'm not going back," I said. "Tell my grandmother I'm not going to give him up."
"What? You're not making any sense, Laura. Aren't you cold?" he asked, embracing himself. He looked around us. The weeping willow trees shook in the wind. "That wind is wild tonight. There's a storm brewing."
"Of course there's a storm brewing," I said, "but that won't stop us. You can tell her I said that."
I slipped my foot into the slipper and continued down the path, past the benches and the gardens.
"Tell whom? Laura, you're not making any sense. Laura!" he shouted.
Someone inside the building heard him. A light went on and then another. I heard doors opening and voices calling out into the night. It drove me on faster. I was running down the hill now, slipping and sliding, losing the slippers again, but not slowing down. Something inside me told me not to slow down for an instant or it would be too late.
And besides, he was calling louder and more desperately each time.
"I'm coming, Robert. I'm coming, my darling Robert," I cried into the darkness.
Ahead of me, the ocean thundered as the waves slammed against the rocks and the sea spray flew into the night. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, but shapes were still only silhouettes. Some of the rocks had been stroked so long by the water, they gleamed like jewels in the night.
I fell and scraped my arm on a rock. It stung, but I didn't pay any attention to the pain. Instead, I got back to my feet as quickly as I could and listened. His voice was gone. The ocean was drowning him out.
"Robert!" I screamed.
"Laura! Where are you?" The voice seemed to come from behind me, but then I heard it again, this time from directly in front of me. "Laura. I'm here. Laura!"
"Yes, yes, Robert. I'm here."
I moved more carefully over the smaller rocks, until I reached the water and the tide slapped at my legs. Concentrating hard, I could see the boat rising and falling. The small mast was broken and lay over the side, the sail soaked. I started into the water.
"Robert!" I called. "Robert!"
The boat lifted again, only this time it came down on its side and then turned completely over, and after it had, I saw him, bobbing in the water, his arm up.
"Laura . . ."
"Robert, I'm coming. Wait."
He disappeared for a moment. I charged ahead, the water now up to my waist.
"Laura!" I heard someone scream behind me, but I didn't turn back. That was Grandmother Olivia's trick to get me to give him up. Don't look back, I thought, or you'll be like Lot's wife and turn into a pillar of salt.
I started to swim toward the boat. His head reappeared and then that arm slowly emerged from the dark water, just as it had many times before in my dreams. I tried to shout to him as I swam, but it was difficult because the water slammed into my face and I swallowed some, gagging for a moment. The waves lifted and threw me back, but I continued, swimming as furiously as I could now. I wasn't far from the boat.
His head lifted slowly and his eyes--even in the darkness without a moon and stars--his eyes were luminous and full of love.
"Robert, my darling," I called to him and swam and swam and swam. When I looked up, the boat wasn't any closer. Was it just the strong tide keeping me back?
My arms ached. My clothing weighed me down. I treaded water and stripped off my jeans and then my shirt. The tide carried off its bounty quickly and I turned back to my swimming, putting all my strength into every stroke. I felt myself lift and fall with the water and when I looked out again, there was the boat, but not any closer.
"Robert, I can't lose you. I won't lose you. Don't let them take you from me. Please."
Miraculously, he appeared only inches away, his head emerging from the sea, his arms out toward me. I stretched until our hands joined.
"Robert--"
"Laura," he said. "My Laura."
I felt him draw me closer to him until his arms were around me. The water didn't matter anymore. I didn't feel how cold it was or how rough it was. In his arms I felt safe and warm. We kissed.
"I waited for you," he said. "I knew you would come back to me, so I waited for you."
"I'm so glad, Robert. I'm so happy."
I turned toward the shore. Someone was waving madly. He was up to his waist and waving.
"Let's go back," I said, "together."
"No, Laura. We can't go back," Robert said. "Come . . ." He gestured with his head toward the overturned sailboat.
"Oh," I said. I smiled, understanding.
We swam together for a few moments and then I reached forward to touch the boat. Robert did, too. We turned to each other and we brought out lips together and kissed as the darkness swept in over us.
But I was happy, as happy as I had once been.
I was with my love.
Forever.
Epilogue
.
The black Rolls-Royce climbed the hill to the
clinic slowly, rising over the crest of the knoll. The automobile came to a stop in front of the main entrance as the sun was covered by a long, dark cloud. The driver got out and quickly opened the door for Olivia Logan. He reached in to take her at the elbow, but she shook him off.
"I'm all right, Raymond," she snapped. She paused after emerging and looked at the building as if it were alive and the windows now glittering like mirrors were the dozens of eyes greeting her.
"Just wait right here," she ordered and made her way to the steps.
Raymond watched her obediently for a few moments before getting back into the Rolls. He reached for his newspaper and lowered the back of the seat.
Before Olivia Logan reached the entrance, the door opened and Doctor Scanlon, with Mrs. Kleckner on
one side and Mrs. Roundchild on the other, stepped forward to greet her. She paused and looked at them, her eyes full of contempt and accusation. The three seemed to wilt; Herbert Scanlon, the most. It was as if his clothes were growing on his body. His shirt collar widened and he pressed the knot of his tie between his right thumb and forefinger before reaching out to take Olivia's hand.
"Where is she?" Olivia asked.
"We have her in the infirmary. I'm sorry," Doctor Scanlon began. "I--"
Olivia put up her black-gloved hand, palm forward. "Save your explanations for later," she said. "Take me to her."
The three separated, Mm. Roundchild stepping back so Olivia could enter the building.
There wasn't anyone in the lobby. The patients were all at lunch. Olivia paused, struck by the silence, and then continued as Herbert Scanlon directed her to another doorway and the corridor beyond. The two nurses trailed behind, neither looking at the other, neither saying a word.
"The patients are all in the dining room," Doctor Scanlon said.
"Except one," Olivia remarked.
He glanced back at his nurses and continued walking. When they reached the end of the corridor, they turned right at a door labeled,,Infirmary. Dr. Scanlon opened it and stepped back for Olivia to enter. The nurse, wearing a nametag, Suzanne Cohen, rose so quickly from her desk chair it looked like she had been sitting on springs. She looked at Doctor Scanlon, her face gray with concern.
"This is Mrs. Logan," he said. "She's here to see Laura."
"Oh yes," the infirmary nurse said. "I'm so sorry," she added.
Olivia closed her eyes and shook her head.
"I'm not interested in hearing apologies," she replied. Sue Cohen glanced at Doctor Scanlon and saw from the expression on his face that she should move quickly.
"This way," she said, and led them through the small lobby to a rear door and down a short hall, on either side of which were examination rooms, radiology, a laboratory, and at the very end, a room that fortunately was used rarely. It had no label on the door, but everyone who worked there knew it to be their morgue.
She opened the door and stepped back.
Olivia approached slowly and gazed in at the steel gurney covered with a sheet, on which lay the body of her granddaughter. The room had no particular odor. It seemed aseptic, devoid of any character, or light.
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