“Yeah.”
“Except all my dishes went crashing to the floor. That’s been my day.”
Joe seems introspective now, as this information seems to hit him as it did me earlier. He takes several slow, quiet breaths and then puts his hands on my upper arms, causing me to look in his eyes.
They’re so close.
Those beautiful cobalt eyes. This is the man I feel something intense for, not the polished lawyer back in that room. And yet, knowing I married him, I’ve vowed some sort of commitment to him.
Haven’t I?
Do I still owe him that?
Has he abandoned me here?
“Do you love him?” Joe must have been reading my mind—or else it’s just so obvious on my face.
“I must have at one time, right?”
“Do you love him now?”
“How can I, Joe? I don’t even know him. But…”
He kisses me on the forehead. “I know.”
Does he? Does he know we can’t do again what we did last night?
Before I can ask, he has another question for me. “So what else did you learn about yourself?”
“I know why I’m here. I tried to commit suicide.” Joe nods but says nothing. “I tried to overdose on pills.”
“Dublin.” The voice behind me sounds somewhat familiar. Joe lets go of my arms and I turn to see the tech who led me out of the visitor room earlier. “Time to leave.”
I turn my head back to Joe, wondering if he’s in trouble. He says to me, “See you at lunch, I guess.”
It isn’t until I watch him walk out the door that I then notice a second tech in my room, someone I’ve never seen before. No, it’s not a tech. It’s a nurse.
With a cart.
He says, “Have a seat, Anna.”
It’s not like I have a chair in here. I don’t question him, though, because he seems quite serious.
Turning, I sit on the bed and now I’m feeling nervous. The nurse says, “Hold out your arm.”
I obey, sticking out both my arms, wondering at first what’s going on until the nurse grabs a small square from the cart. He rips open a package and then dabs the crook of my arm with a tiny cloth that sterilizes my skin with alcohol.
Oh, God, no. Now I know what this means.
“What are you doing?”
The nurse then picks up the syringe and looks me straight in the eye. “You haven’t been taking your medicine, Anna.”
How the hell did they find out? Did I leave something somewhere? Did the toilets clogging this morning reveal what I’d been doing?
And how did they know it was me?
But I can’t say a word. Instead, as the needle approaches my arm, I pull back. It’s then that I understand why the tech is there, because he’s on the bed behind me, and he holds me tightly, especially my arm, and in seconds, I feel the sting of the needle entering my flesh.
Quickly followed by sleep.
*
When I awaken, I’m on a gurney. I feel groggy now. My mouth is dry; my throat is sore.
My head is pounding.
And I just want to sleep.
Soon, the tech is helping me move from the gurney into my bed and I allow myself to be cradled in deep sleep.
This is what I need.
*
When I wake up again, it’s dark.
What is that noise?
“Anna? Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Joe.”
“Joe?” It takes me a second. “Oh, Joe.”
“How are you?”
“I don’t know. I feel really strange.” Still groggy. Lethargic. Heavy.
“Do you know what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“After they made me leave your room yesterday, they took you for ECT.”
“ECT?”
“Yeah, shock therapy stuff. Do you remember that?”
“No,” I say, sitting up in bed. I want to ask more questions, but I don’t even know what I want to ask. What I should ask.
“They figured out you haven’t been taking your meds.”
“But how?” This starts to come back to me. “I thought I’d been careful.”
“Did you maybe say something to your husband?”
“What? My husband? What are you talking about?”
I feel Joe’s weight as he sits on the bed. “Don’t you remember? You met your husband yesterday.”
“I did?” After a second, I try to sit up, but I’m too tired. “I’m married?”
“You don’t remember any of that?”
“No. What did I say?”
“You just told me you were married and have two kids. Oh, and that you’re here because you tried committing suicide.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. That’s what you told me.”
This feels so bizarre. Like the other day, I feel like I have a huge hole in my memory—and, based on what Joe’s telling me, I definitely do.
I am so grateful for him right now, but there’s only one way to describe how I feel: mind fucked.
“I’ll let you sleep now. But we’ll talk more tomorrow.” He gets off the bed again. “We might have to be a little more cautious, though. Something’s going on around here.”
Indeed.
*
The next morning, I feel completely out of it. When Rose appears, she is still kind, but she’s accompanied by someone else.
With a cart.
If I had any energy, I’d be afraid.
But I’m too out of it.
The woman with the cart isn’t coming at me with a syringe, though. Instead, she has a cup of pills that she hands to me. I stare for a moment at the sky blue gloves she’s wearing. I like that color.
“Anna, honey, take your pills,” Rose says, sounding sweet and kind as always. I look in her dark eyes and try to smile but my mouth won’t move that way. She’s always been so nice to me.
Finally, I get my hand to move, pinching the tiny paper cup between my finger and thumb. Somewhere in the cobwebs in my brain, I remember I don’t actually want to take them, and I hear Joe’s voice in my head: You shove them between your teeth and cheek.
My mouth feels coated in dust, so I say, “Can I have some water, please?”
The med tech snaps, “After you swallow your pills.”
She’s a bitch. Even in my altered state of mind, I know this. If I had more gumption, I’d ask who ruined her day. “I can’t swallow them without water.”
“Oh, we have another princess. Isn’t that nice?”
I can’t even frown. Not that it would matter. My emotions don’t seem to run that deep right now.
But she seems to relent, because she is actually prepared. A mauve pitcher of water and a stack of small plastic cups are on her cart, so I halfway wonder why giving me something to drink is such a big deal—but these thoughts are exhausting, using up most of my mental energy, so I let it go.
As she pours the water, I put the plastic cup up to my lips, because I need to start moving those pills into that pocket beside my teeth. I hope I’m as subtle as I think, but I don’t know for certain. By the time the woman hands me the water, I’ve got three pills hidden, but two are still sitting on my tongue. When I tip the water cup, I’m able to fit one more on the other side, but one pill I’m going to have to swallow.