My Lost Daughter (40 page)

“Voilà!” Shana exclaimed, stepping back. Karen jumped up and
headed to her room. Shana followed. May was heavy and didn't move around all that much, so she stayed behind at the table.

Shana stood in the doorway while Karen looked at her face in the mirror. “I can't believe it. I look so different. I look . . .” she grimaced and an aborted bark came out, “almost pretty. I never tried to fix up because I didn't think it mattered.”

“Only pretty,” Shana said, grinning in delight. “You look gorgeous. Guys are going to chase you like wild. Tomorrow, I'll show you how to do it by yourself. I'm sure May won't mind letting you have most of the stuff since she said she couldn't use it.”

When they went back to the great room, Norman was seated at the table beside Alex. Shana stood at one end of the smoking table and analyzed his face. Then she picked through the various tubes, jars, and brushes in May's case until she found the items she needed. “Come on, Norman,” she said. “Step into my office. I think we have something for the men in here, too.”

Norman glanced behind him, thinking Shana was speaking to someone else. When he saw Karen, he put it together and reluctantly sat down in the chair. Shana leaned near what had once been his ear but was now only a small hole. “Will it hurt if I touch your face?” she whispered. “I promise I'll be gentle.”

“I'll be fine.”

Shana seized a jar of makeup in a warm healthy shade that must belong to May, plunging her fingers into the jar until she had a glob of it. She gingerly began applying the foundation to Norman's scarred face. After using a cover-up, she applied a second layer and dusted his face with powder. Next, she painted on eyebrows, and faintly outlined the scar tissue around his eyes with eyeliner. She used a dark pink to make Norman a mouth and finally finished with a flesh-colored lipstick belonging to May. The makeup gave Norman the appearance of having lips. He didn't look normal, of course. Sadly, he would never look normal again. Nonetheless, it was a substantial improvement.

Shana stepped back and dropped her hands to her side. Filled with compassion for this tragic soul, she bent down and pressed
her lips to the ones she had just created for him. “You look so handsome, Norman, I couldn't resist.” Shana handed him a small plastic mirror from May's case.

He shoved the mirror away. “I try to avoid looking in mirrors. You would too if you looked like me.”

“Oh, come on,” May said, encouraging him. “Go ahead and look, honey. You look mighty fine to me. I feel like giving you a smooch myself.”

“You're just placating me,” Norman said, rising to his feet. “Anyway, men don't wear makeup.”

Alex walked over and took a seat in the chair. “You're wrong, buddy,” he said. Then he spoke directly to Shana. “See that scar over by my eyebrow? I hate that damn thing. Can you cover that up?”

“No problem.” She reached for the foundation and dabbed it over the scar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Norman watching. “Doesn't he look better? What do you think, Alex?”

Norman walked off and Alex reached for Shana's hand, pulling it to his chest. “I think you're one of the most beautiful human beings I've ever met, both inside and out. I don't want to lose you.”

Even though his voice was low, May overheard and smiled. “You've done made the grade, sugar. Alex is our prince. Now we got ourselves a princess.” She flicked her wrist. “Oh I know what you're thinking but you're wrong. We might not be the cream of the crop in some folks' eyes, but I know one thing for sure . . . the man upstairs loves us.”

 

The rest of the day passed in a blur of anticipation. The patients played volleyball in the afternoon, and Shana asked David if he was going to attend the dance. When he said he was coming, Shana wondered if she'd recognize him. The crutches were gone, but his arm was now in a sling. He told her he had fallen out of bed that morning. He was such a beautiful young man, so handsome and fit. Why would he feel compelled to manufacture injuries?

Karen's new look had caught everyone's attention. Patients came up and complimented her, asking her what she'd done to herself.
Even several members of the staff asked Shana if she would give them a makeover.

Karen didn't exhibit one symptom of her illness during dinner or volleyball. Perhaps the strange outbursts associated with Tourette's were triggered by nerves, and Karen's newfound confidence gave her the strength to control them.

After spending the rest of the afternoon giving makeup lessons, Shana headed to her room to shower and change for the dance. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing the empty bed. Either Michaela had been discharged or they'd moved her to another room. Tossed across Shana's bed was a garment bag and what looked like a shoe box. She unzipped the bag and found a white lace dress with a high neckline, a dropped waist, and a full skirt. Holding it in her hands, Shana thought of a wedding dress and then changed her mind, deciding it was more like a high school prom dress. Inside the box was a pair of white satin pumps with small heels.

After her shower, Shana found a perfect white rose on her bed, along with a rhinestone hair clip. She was certain the rose and the clip hadn't been there before she'd entered the bathroom. Next to it was a white slip with a built-in bra and a pair of white silk panties. Alex must have placed the items in her room while she was in the shower. She dressed and sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to decide how she should handle the situation. It wasn't right for Alex to come into her room without her consent, but his gifts were sweet. She worried, though, as surely none of the other patients had evening clothes. Deciding what the hell, she patted down the puffy skirt, and walked out of her room.

When Shana stepped into the great room, her mouth fell open in shock. All the patients were dressed in formal wear. In less than an hour, the hospital population had been transformed. Alex was wearing a white tuxedo, while all the other men were wearing black. Karen had on a green taffeta dress with a short skirt. May was wearing red chiffon with a plunging neckline that exposed her ample breasts. There was such a mixture of men's and women's cologne that Shana felt as if she were in a flower shop. Alex must
have purchased all the clothes, the shoes, and given each patient their own bottle of cologne.

“Can I offer you a cocktail?” Alex said, bowing at the waist.

Alex was an attractive man, even in his T-shirts and jeans. He had that rare combination of rugged masculinity and elegance, reminiscent of the James Bond character. Tonight he looked as regal as a prince, and it was clear why the patients had given him such a title.

She asked herself what else Alex had done for them. Many of the hospital patients had no one. When visiting hours came every day, only a few people showed up. And how could they afford an expensive private hospital like Whitehall? Sure, some of them had insurance, but insurance seldom covered everything. Did Alex pick up their tabs, rather than let them be forced into a state facility, which were notoriously overcrowded and understaffed. Compared to a state institution, Whitehall must seem like a palace. She had finally met a man with real empathy, who cared not just for her but for others. The word
magnanimous
passed through her mind.

“We're all having a cocktail before dinner,” Alex told her. “You might as well join us.”

“You're pulling my leg,” Shana said, smiling coyly. “They won't let us have alcohol in here.”

“It's all a matter of perspective,” Alex told her, arching an eyebrow. “A cocktail is a tool of relaxation, isn't it?” He turned to the people assembled in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bar is officially open.”

One by one, the patients lined up behind Alex at the nurses' station. “I'm feeling a little tense tonight, Betsy,” he said, placing his elbow on the counter. “I'd like two of my Ativans, please.”

Betsy checked Alex's chart, and then put the two pills he'd asked for in a cup. Soon everyone was asking for two doses of their medication instead of one, and tossing the pills in their mouths like candy. Shana tugged on Alex's sleeve, then whispered in his ear, “How can they double their medication? Doesn't Betsy know better? Someone might overdose.”

“The majority of medications, particularly tranquilizers, are written to take ‘one or two as needed' every so many hours,” Alex explained. “Almost everyone here has a prescription for some type of antianxiety drug in their chart. It's pretty common in this type of place. And as long as Betsy has it on file, there's nothing she can do.” He smiled, full of himself.

“I'll pass,” Shana said, giving him a stern look. Buying the patients fancy clothes was one thing. Enticing them to mess around with their medication was dangerous.

“You don't want to ruin our party, do you?” Alex tilted his head, giving her a puppy dog look. “It's not like we do this all the time.” He glanced at Norman, Karen, May, and Milton, lined up next to each other on the sofa. “Think about what this night means to some of these people. Don't you think they deserve a few hours of happiness?”

Shana understood. Norman's disfigurement made him terribly shy. The extra medication probably helped him just as it did Karen. The same applied to Milton and his constant state of agitation. When her turn came, Shana told Betsy she'd been suffering from a bout of insomnia and was handed two pink pills.

Alex could have been right in some of his earlier assessments. Where would she ever find friends as unique as the people she'd met at Whitehall? More importantly, where would she ever find a man like Alex? She wanted to drag him to her room and make passionate love to him. He had to be a wonderful lover because he possessed such an overwhelming desire to please. Most of the men she'd had sex with were selfish pricks. She fantasized about them getting married and having a houseful of kids. A vision of Alex tenderly rocking their baby in his arms flashed in her mind. He would make the perfect husband and father. She chuckled under her breath, imagining the day she introduced her mother to her new fiancé. Lily would freak, terrified her daughter had fallen in love with a lunatic. The more she thought about it, the better it sounded.

Dozens of balloons floated near the ceiling. Music was playing from two large speakers. In various corners of the gym people were congregating in groups. In one corner, George stared into space as he leaned against the back wall. When Shana walked in with Alex, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared.

“Shall we dance?” Alex said, swinging her away from his body.

They were the only couple on the dance floor. Brett and the other guys Shana had danced with over the years had only shuffled their feet from side to side. She was amazed at how well Alex could dance, deciding he must have taken lessons. He held her tight as they twirled around the slick surface of the gym. Other couples began slowly making their way onto the floor.

Karen was dancing with Norman; May had her arms wrapped around Milton's waist, a strange couple to say the least. David was dressed neatly in a sweater and a pair of dark slacks. On his arm was a pretty brunette from the adolescent unit. He was no longer wearing his sling, nor had he come decked out in women's apparel. Wanda, the woman Shana had seen drooling in the wheelchair after shock treatment, was wearing a bright blue dress and dancing with the man Alex had told her was a priest. They were smiling and snuggling close.

Shana asked herself if it was the drugs or if everything she'd experienced at Whitehall was a delusion. The patients no longer seemed to be aware of their various illnesses or limitations. She envisioned the collective group along the lines of actors on a stage.

Alex's voice jolted Shana out of her thoughts. “I could spend my life right here with you. There's nothing more I'd ever need or want.”

Shana didn't know how to respond. After the song ended, they sat side by side in folding chairs along the wall. “Alex, it's none of my business, but have you ever been married?”

“No,” he said, gazing out over the dance floor.

“Really? You must have dated a lot of girls. You're a good-looking man, Alex. Surely you fell in love at least once or twice.”

“Once.”

The music changed and rock and roll began blasting out of the speakers. “What happened?” Shana yelled over the noise.

“The teenagers must have complained.”

“Not the music . . .” Shana said. “What happened to the girl you were in love with?”

“We were too young,” Alex told her, staring at the floor. “Things didn't work out.”

Shana moved her chair closer. “Did your parents cause the breakup?” She thought of his mother, Nadine, believing she could chase away anyone.

“No,” he said. “She left me.”

“I'm sorry.”

Shana saw Norman walking toward her. “Hey, Norm,” she called out, “you look like a million bucks in that tuxedo. How about a dance?” Just as she stood, she felt fingers digging into her forearm. Instinctively she jerked away. “That hurt, Alex! I have the right to dance with anyone I want.”