“Yes, but—”
“But you feel it’s perfectly acceptable to send my sister into a medical seizure with your non-medical care and then what? Did you think further than that?”
“She hasn’t had a seizure, Ms. Hughes,” Rita said. “Not in days.”
“Not yet.”
“She loves it. She’s vibrant in a way I haven’t seen before.”
“And painting a masterpiece, no less,” Delia said. “I told you, I don’t want a media circus over Thea. I don’t want the entire world watching a beautiful young girl exhibit her brain damage as if she’s some kind of sideshow.”
“We can ensure that no word gets out about her painting,” Rita said. “It’s part of the HIPAA policy. Anyone here who shares her work outside of this facility can face termination or even a lawsuit. I’ll ensure the staff understands that implicitly.”
Delia held Rita’s gaze for a minute, thinking. Then she whirled on me. “And you. Do you understand implicitly?”
I nodded, meeting her gaze. “I do.”
“What do you have to do with this?”
“Jim works with Thea every day,” Rita said carefully. “We are all involved in her care. Allowing Thea to paint makes her extremely happy.”
“She can’t be happy,” Delia said. “She can’t remember happy.”
“Delia,” Rita said in a gentle voice. “Look at her.”
Delia’s eyes softened as she took in her sister. “Well,” she said, after a minute. “We’ll see. I’d like Dr. Stevens to be made aware of this. And it looks like I’ll be driving over for the next few days to keep an eye on Thea. If she has even the slightest of tremors…”
“Delia,” Thea called, taking the earbuds from her ears. No sooner were they free when she froze, an absence seizure shook her. Her first in days. I glared at Delia’s back as she joined her sister.
The only thing that sends Thea into a seizure is you.
“You didn’t have to cover for me,” I said to Rita.
“I think I did,” Rita said. “Delia doesn’t want male attention on her sister. And anyway, I support this.” She motioned at Thea, who was now animatedly discussing her painting. “I wasn’t kidding. In all the years I’ve worked with Thea, I’ve never seen her so happy.”
I took that victory—and my broom—and got back to work. I swept the hallways and the foyer, happy that Jules was off on another smoke break. I made my way to the dining room, where I found Delia Hughes sitting alone at a table near the window, a cup of coffee in front of her. Her gaze on the surrounding forest outside the sanitarium.
She heard my footsteps and turned. “I know you’re behind getting my sister the paints,” she said. “I see how you look at her.”
There was no sense in backing away or running like a coward. I crossed the room and sat at a nearby table, setting the broom over my knees.
“It was my idea,” I said. “Rita covered for me because I know what it looks like.”
“Do you?”
“I just want Thea to be happy. That’s it. Nothing else.”
“I told you, she can’t remember happy.”
“Maybe she can.”
Delia whipped her head to me. “You are not a doctor.”
“No,” I said, my jaw stiffening. “But I’ve seen her word chains.”
“Dr. Stevens says they’re nothing to be concerned about.”
“But—”
“Let me be more clear,” Delia said. “He says there’s nothing they can do about them. Do you understand the distinction?”
She glared, challenging. The orderly’s guess against the neurosurgeon’s professional diagnosis. I tried something else.
“Why do you come here twice a week? An hour and a half from Richmond, each direction. Why?”
Delia scoffed. “Because she’s my sister.”
“You could live on the moon for all she’d remember, right?”
“She needs me. When I visit, she gets…”
“Happy?”
“Upset, Mr. Whelan.” Her voice was bitter. “She has a seizure every time. She’s so happy to see me, her brain short circuits.”
The grief of losing her entire family was written in every hard line of Delia’s face.
“I know everyone thinks I’m too harsh with her care,” she said into my silence, almost to herself. “Too disciplined. Thea was always the fun one. Constantly making dumb jokes, even at the most serious times. She could make everyone smile just by walking into a room. I walked into a room and nobody noticed. She laughed too loudly and cried easily. When our cat was run over by a car, Thea cried enough for the both of us, so I didn’t.”
She straightened and smoothed her skirt. “But that’s okay. Someone had to take care of things. Someone had to be responsible. Someone had to make funeral arrangements for our parents. Someone had to find a place that would take care of Thea. One that wasn’t an ocean away or wouldn’t drain the money within a year. Someone had to do those things, right?”
I nodded.
“And so I’m the bad guy because I don’t want Thea to paint. Because I’m afraid it will bring on seizures. Because I bring on seizures. I hurt her…” She swallowed. “I hurt her with my mere presence.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” I said.
“No? I’m the only person she remembers by name. I’m the only link from her past she’s been able to hold on to. Me and her art.” Delia sniffed and dabbed the corner of her eye with a napkin. “I’m afraid if she paints, it will hurt more than it helps. I’m afraid one day she’ll have a seizure—a final seizure—and then she’ll be gone too.”
Now I felt like shit for not trying to see her point of view. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Sorry you acted without thinking? Or that you were thinking with another part of your anatomy?”
“Never,” I said in a low voice. “I would never.”
“And I have no choice but to believe you,” Delia said, setting down her napkin. “I have to go.”
She shouldered her purse and began to rise.
Speak now or forever hold your peace.
“Ms. Hughes, I think Thea has seizures when she sees you because she remembers her life with you.”
“No,” Delia said. “She can’t.”
“I think she does,” I said as gently as possible. “In her own way.”
Delia stared, frozen, and her hard eyes began to shine. “I… I don’t want her to suffer. I can’t imagine she suffers. If I thought that…” She straightened. “Her neuropsychologist should know whatever you think you know. He makes her treatment plan. He says keeping her calm is right for her.”
“What about doing things that give her a chance?”
“A chance at what?”
“At life.”
“What life?” Delia cried. “She has no life, but she’s alive. And she’s all I have left.” She sneered now. “What do you know about it? You’re an orderly. Go mop a floor and leave my sister alone.”