DeBeers 05 Hidden Leaves (7 page)

I
was even more sensitive to the possibility my associates, Ralston especially, would see something very unusual in my relationship with her, Consequently.
I
know I leaned too far in the opposite direction, which in itself is revealing behavior to a good analyst
Whenever
I
spoke to Grace in front of others, my voice was sharp, hard, and almost impatient. I tried to be as formal as I could. I avoided her in the cafeteria and barely acknowledged her in the corridors or in the recreational room.
I
wrote lengthy reports about our sessions and had Ralston review them, and, for a short period,
I
did not take her for any walks.
To her credit. Grace understood and never complained.
It
was enough for us to occasionally exchange a warm, knowing look with each other outside my office. She also appreciated the fact that when she was in my office and we were having a therapeutic session, we should do everything in our power to keep it professional. For a while we were able to do that, and perhaps because Grace trusted me even more now, she was more and more forthcoming.
At a session nearly two weeks later, she confessed her nagging guilt for what had happened between her and Kirby Scott, her mother's third husband,
a
man I hope you never encounter. I must admit that when she spoke about him in these sessions. I felt terrible pangs of jealousy, Willow.
"Kirby was and I'm sure still is a very handsome, charming man." she told int. "I couldn't help but fantasize about him. He spent
a
great deal of time with -me, always claiming he was doing his best to get me to become more social. more assured of myself when I was with men. My mother even thought it was nice of him to take such an interest in me. Can you imagine?"
"I guess he was a great con man."
"More than just a con man. The devil himself." she said. She shook her head softly. "He would make it all seem instructional." she told me, a faint smile on her lips.
Was it a smile of irony or a smile of real appreciation and excitement?
I
wondered.
"Why do you smile after saying that?" I asked her, my heart beating with anticipation. There were so many questions I wanted to ask.
And yet how delicate I had to be with her. Willow. How careful about my intonation, my choice of words, my expressions, for how could I do her any good as a therapist if
I
came at her like some jealous new lover?
"I smile because I can't help thinking how charming
and
beguiling he was. Claude. He had a way of sneaking up on me, taking me completely by surprise."
"Explain that."
I
asked. pulling myself together and turning the page of my notebook,
"Before he did something, said something, he would tell me this was how he won the love of a woman, and he would ask me for my reactions as if he were testing himself to see
if
he was still good at what he did. He made me feel as if
I
was part of some love practicing so that I wouldn't think of him touching me as me. especially. Do you know what I mean?" "I think so,"
I
said.
"Then he would take on this very serious expression like
a
Don Juan instructor or something, 'You can be shy. Grace,' he would say. 'Men like
a
woman to have same shyness, but you don't want to appear incapable or so innocent they will feel they are taking advantage of you.' which, of course, was exactly what he was doing, 'Flirt, if you like, but at the end of every promise. Grace,' he would say. 'there has to be some delivery. You don't want men to think of you as a tease. Reward the
man
you love with the warmest part of yourself.'
"He would kiss me and then he would pull back and look as if he was deciding if
I
had done it right.
I
would hold my breath for his judgment. and then he would smile and nod and say something like. 'You are getting the idea.'
"He made me feel like I was becoming a woman,
a
woman in every sense of his definition. a woman like the sort of woman he would marry."
"You were becoming like your mother, then, mature, beautiful, capable?"
"Yes," she said. "Exactly.
I
so wanted to
be
like her. She was independent, strong, and despite all the terrible things that had befallen us, she was able to compete and go on and continue to be strong for the both of us."
"I see." I said.
"Do you. Claude?" Her eyes were filling with tears. "Because
I
can't stop thinking about it."
"You can't blame yourself for what happened because of that. Grace. He had no business coming into your bedroom and doing what he did."
We stared at each other, pages and pages of thoughts falling around us.
"Maybe... maybe I'm no better than he was," I muttered.
She shook her head. "If this is wrong," she said, sniffing back her tears and pulling up her shoulders. "I hope I'm never right."
Willow, when people in love say they feel as if they are moving on
a
cloud. I understand,
I didn't remember getting up and going to her. I was just there and we were kissing each other and holding each other as if the whole world outside and around us had gone away, left us alone to be who we truly were inside ourselves.
"Tonight,"
I
whispered, my lips grazing her cheek, "Tonight I will come to you."

7
My Buoyancy and Joy
.
There is definitely something about falling in

love that turns you into a little boy or a little girl again. Willow. Just like a child impatient with time that drags itself along like an old person indifferent to your anticipation.
I
looked at the clock constantly, trying to will the hour and minute hands to move faster. My stomach felt as if small springs were popping and bouncing inside it. I went to the mirror in my bedroom and checked myself a half dozen times. The only difference between me and an anxious teenager was the constant realization that what
I
was about to do was consummate a love affair, take action that would impact on my life and Grace's forever and ever.
It
should have given me pause. Willow.
It
should have stopped me at the door. But as they say, a team of wild horses pulling in the opposite direction couldn't have done so.

I was almost unable to go. Alberta appeared at my bedroom door. I had showered and shaved and dressed in something I thought made me more attractive, a nice light-blue silk shirt I had worn but once. I was actually toying with my hair,
experimenting with different ways of brushing it, when she was just there. She was in a nightgown.

"What are you doing?" she asked me. "Oh, nothing."
"Why are you s a nicely dressed?"
"Am I? I thought I hadn't worn this shirt since I bought it and--"
"Oh, forget about it," she said, not really interested in any explanation I might give anyway. "I have a terrible headache and nothing is helping tonight. I want one of those pills you give your patients."
I knew she meant Valium.
"I'm not fond of giving those out like aspirins. Alberta."
"Oh, stop being the doctor for one moment and be my husband. I had too much champagne this afternoon. That's all and I need something to help me relax. I'm on pins and needles. The election for president of the Woman's Club is being held tomorrow, and you know I'm running against two other women, neither of whom deserve it nor have worked as hard as I have for the organization."
I stared at her.
"You do remember the election, don't you. Claude? You do remember I was running for president?"
"Oh, yes. I just forgot how soon it was."
"How could you do that?"
"I'm sorry."
"You should have that expression tattooed an your forehead. Claude. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Look. I need to relax," she insisted,
"Okay, okay." I thought a moment and then found some Valium for her. It was a weak dosage, but enough to do what she wanted done. Nevertheless. I felt evil. Willow. I felt as if I was putting her in a fog just so she wouldn't know what I was about to do and would do.
I
gave her the pills and she returned to her own room to sleep and face the results of her Woman's Club election the following day. If she lost, which was in my mind very likely, she would be very difficult.
Since
I
hadn't told Miles anything about my plans, I expected he would be retired for the evening, but he surprised me and appeared the moment I came downstairs and headed toward the front entrance.
"Did
I
forget something on the schedule. Doctor?" he asked.
"Oh, no. Miles. It's something that just came up. It's all right. I'll drive myself back to the clinic."
"It's no problem for me. Doctor.
I
have no pressing engagements." he added.
I was caught in so many deceits and webs of my own making. Willow. Now
I
was even lying to Miles. If I refused his offer, he would be upset. I could see it in his fact. He needed to be needed, and yet, having him drive me made me feel I was making him part of what I was doing, and I thought that was wrong. Feeling cornered, I smiled and nodded and told him to get the car.
I glanced at the stairway, looking up toward Alberta's bedroom and thinking she was falling asleep with never a thought of what I was about to do ever crossing her mind. A part of me wanted to have me march back up those stairs and throw open her door to declare. "Alberta. I am in love with another woman. I cannot continue this pretense."
And vet there was another part of me that still couldn't believe I would do what
I
was setting out to do. Even when I was sitting in the vehicle and we were driving to the clinic. I heard this voice within me taunting, You can't do this, Claude De Beers. You are only fooling
^-
yourself You
will embarrass yourself You will fall on your face and in front of the whole staff and even some Patients, Tell Miles to turn back.. Turn back before it too late.
If those words were there, my tongue refused to form them. I closed my eyes and thought only of Grace. Grace waiting for me in her room. Grace trembling with expectation and with hope, keeping the demons outside her door, staring away any shadows, closing her own ears to any warnings.
Of course. I wondered if she loved me out of a terrible need born from her mental problems or if she loved me as purely and as overwhelmingly as I loved her, Shouldn't I be able to tell? You 're an analyst, analyze, I told myself. In my heart
I
knew
I
was too much in love, too compromised even to attempt such an objective evaluation.
More to the point. did I want even to consider the question? I wanted her and that overwhelmed everything else, even her own state of mind, Was I horrible. Willow? Was
I
terrible to think such thoughts?
Drive on, Miles, I thought. Take Brie to My love, to ray destiny and all else be damned.
Maybe it was because of the excitement boiling inside me, or maybe it was more what I wished than what was, but when
I
looked up at the night sky, it seemed to be particularly full of stars, so crowded with the twinkling specks they looked as if they might bump into each other. The Big Dipper was never clearer. I vowed that I would forget nothing about this night. I would memorize the heavens so that afterward, every time I thought about this evening. I would see that sky and I would feel the same electric excitation and joy.
"I'll be in the recreation room." Miles told me after we parked and I started for the front entrance of the clinic.
"What? Oh. yes,"
I
said. "Good."
Can you believe it. Willow? I actually forgot he was there, walking just behind me. My mind was so focused on Grace. Self-conscious now. I slowed down, pulled myself back, and tried to look more like the doctor than an anxious lover.
Nadine Gordon was not on duty that evening, thankfully. Suzanne Cohen, a much gentler nurse, younger, but just as competent, was in the recreation room speaking softly to
a
new patient of ours. whom
I
will call Palmer. He was a twelve-year-old boy who had been acting out more and more seriously, finally setting fire to his own home. Ralston had taken the lead therapist position with him. He was. I will admit, better with teenagers than I was. In any case Suzanne did not notice my entrance, but would of course realize I was there as soon as Miles appeared.
I went to my office and busied myself with some reports. anticipating Suzanne coming around to see if there was anything in particular
I
needed from her. Less then ten minutes later she appeared.
"Everything is fine." I told her. "Please, just go about your usual duties. Suzanne."
"I thought I should tell you that Grace Montgomery retired early tonight," she said. "I thought she looked more distracted than she has these past few weeks. She didn't eat very well at dinner. either."
"Oh? Well, I'll try to stop by to see her. Thanks. Suzanne."
She stood there for a moment longer. My heart was ticking away like a time bomb. Had Grace done something, said something about us?
"Very good. Doctor. I'll be at my station should you need me for anything."
"Thank you." I said, still holding my breath until she actually left my office.
I closed the files and sat back. The reasonable doctor part of me began its final pleas, its final attempt at turning me back.
Just put everything away here, Claude. Find Miles and go home,
I heard the voice inside me advise.
Before it's too late, forever too late, go home, Claude. Go home.
When I stood up and walked to my office door. I actually did not know which way I would go. Willow. I thought of that famous poem by Robert Frost. You know, the one about someone stopping at a fork in the road and choosing one direction over the other and Frost concluding it made all the difference. How many forks in the road do we come to in our lives? I wondered. How many choices do we make that truly affect everything else ahead of us?
And that made all the difference.
I
kept thinking as
I
walked toward the patient dormitory and Grace's room, where I knew she waited for me.
She had the small lamp lit on her nightstand, and she was in bed. reading. She looked up when I entered, but she said nothing. I stood there gazing at her. What was the magic that held me so firmly, orbiting her every gesture, every smile, longing to touch her hair, kiss her lips, hold her close to my heart? Was it all some chemical, physical thing or is there truly such a thing as soul mates? I wondered and still do. I laughed to myself thinking how surprised my colleagues would be if I ever so much as brought up such a question for discussion at one of our seminars.
I moved slowly to the side of her bed, neither of us saving a word yet. I think we were both hoping to keep the entire encounter dreamlike, ethereal, perhaps so we could live with it afterward, pretend it was still part of a fantasy.
She closed her book slowly and laid it on the nightstand. I went to my knees and lowered my head gently against her breasts, and she touched my hair. Finally I found some words.
"I wanted to be here so much, to come to you so much, I ache," I said.
With her hands beneath my chin, she lifted my head so we could look into each other's eyes, and then she urged me toward her so our lips would touch, just graze at first and then make demands on each other. That kiss was long and wonderful.
I
felt myself gliding down some very soft slope. She shifted over in her bed, and I prepared myself to be beside her.
We were like two teenagers first discovering the wonder of our bodies and the power that came from each touch, each kiss. Every moment was new, the unwrapping of another amazing gift of life and of love. We were both so absorbed in each other's warmth and desire, neither of us thought about tomorrow. There were no consequences. There was no price to pay, no repentance to be sought. Nothing mattered more than the moment.
"I have never made love like this," I whispered.
"How can that be?" she wanted to know, "You're married."
"With my wife it's mechanical. It's a
performance. Neither of us has ever been ourselves. I have no words to explain this. Grace, no textbook to turn to so that I can find a description of my feelings for you. I am like an atheist who has found there is a God, there is something more than what we can touch and see, hear and taste."
She turned into me and we held each other and made love to each other and found ourselves deeper and deeper within each other's very being. I was with her for hours, losing all sense of time or place. Finally she fell asleep in my arms. and I released her gently and got dressed, I can't tell you how painful it was to leave her bedside that night. Willow. Twice
I
turned back to touch her, to kiss her. Her eyelids barely twitched. She had fallen asleep with this most wonderful, yes, angelic smile on her lips. She never looked more content, more secure and happy with herself than she did at that moment. It made me feel as if
I
had truly done a wonderful thing, not only for myself. but for her and for whatever we were together.
The act of love does create a new entity. Willow, if it is with someone you truly do love. You become so merged, so much a part of each other that there is a birth. I and you become we, and that.
I
thought then. and
I
think still, is a real miracle and not one that any textbook can explain.
Finally, like one tearing free of powerful chains, I managed to get the strength to leave her. I stepped into the quiet, brightly lit hallway, the harshness of the illumination shocking me back to my reality. I glanced at my watch and was astounded at how long
I
had been with Grace.
I hurried down to the recreation room and found Miles asleep on the sofa, the television blinking like a hypnotist's light, throwing shadows on the walls. For a moment I was at a loss about what to do. Wake him, of course, but how did I explain this late hour? Where was the night staff? I nudged him and he opened his eyes, gazed at me in confusion for a moment, and then sat up quickly.
"Oh. Doctor, sorry," he said, grinding the sleep out of his eyes.
"Let's go home. Miles,"
I
said quickly.
"What time is it?" he asked and looked at his watch, "Well, I'll be darned," he muttered.
I
was already out in the hallway.
I
was in flight, hoping none of the staff would see me and wonder why
I
was still there. Miles trailed behind, muttering to himself.
I
could hear the law murmur of
conversation coming from the cafeteria. When we passed the doorway, I did not look in and hoped no one was looking out. Moments later I was in my automobile.
Miles got in quickly and started the engine.
"This was a late one for you. Dr. De Beers," he commented. To be honest. Miles," I said. "I dozed off myself."
"Oh," he said and nodded. "No problem. But I've been telling you that you're working too hard." he chastised.
"You might be right," I said.
My house was as quiet as the clinic had been. Alberta was long asleep. I thought as I made my way up the stairs. The Valium surely relaxed her enough. She rarely checked to see if I was in my bedroom anyway. If something else disturbed her and she went looking for me in my office and saw I was not there. I was sure she gave up thinking about my whereabouts and attended to herself. Even so. I was extra quiet when
I
reached her bedroom door.
I
went to bed as quickly as I could. but I could not fall asleep for the life of me. Willow. Instead. I lay there thinking about Grace, still smelling the aroma of her hair and reliving the taste of her lips and the softness of her body. I replayed every word we had uttered to each other. Finally I curled around my pillow and hugged it like a lovesick teenager, which enabled me to drift into some repose.
I overslept and rose quite late. In fact, I rose so late. Alberta was up before me. What a panic it put me in. Miles was more troubled by it than I was. He came to my room as I was dressing.
"Oh, good, you're up finally. I went to your door twice. Doctor." he said. and knocked pretty hard. I must say. I thought you might have been in the bathroom. but I did look in on you and saw you were dead to the world. Who was I to wake you?" he asked.
"It's all right. Miles."
"Dr. Ralston called." he told me. Then he leaned toward me and whispered, "Mrs. De Beers spoke to him, not me."
"Oh?"
"I know he asked her if she knew why you had returned to the clinic because I heard her say.
'I
didn't know
he
had returned. I'm surprised he bothers coming home.'"
"It's okay, Miles," I said. By reporting what he had overheard. he was, without realizing it, making me feel worst, making me feel as if he and I were conspirators, plotters in some way.
He nodded and left me.
"What's wrong with you? Are you sick?" Alberta asked when I appeared downstairs. She was having her morning coffee and nibbling like a squirrel on her toast. I could see she was quite agitated. She hadn't taken as perfect care of her coiffure. It was unlike her to have a single strand out of place. Her eyes were electric with anxiety. It wasn't because of me. however. It was because of her Woman's Club election.