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wasn't
sure they wouldn't just turn to air and let the rest of
me fold to the floor. Like a sleepwalker, I followed
Doctor Marlowe out to the bathroom and did what she
prescribed. The cold water revived me. The blood
retreated and I could swallow again and breathe. "Feeling better?" she asked.
I nodded.
"You don't have to continue, Cathy. Maybe I'm
rushing you," she suggested.
I considered it. How comfortable and easy it
would be for me to agree and go home, return to my
room and go to bed. I could pull the blanket up to my
chin and shut my eyes and squeeze my legs against
my stomach and wait for sleep to open a door into a
happy place, someplace where I could just drift, float
on warm clouds and forget and forget and forget. But another part of me wanted to come out, to
leave the room and be in the real world again. How
would I ever get back to the real world if I just ran
home?
"No," I said. "I want to keep trying." "You sure, honey?" she asked.
I looked at my face in the mirror. It was still a
mask. I was tired of looking at it. It was time to tear it
off and take a chance on what I would find. Would I
find a little girl again? Had all that had happened
stopped me from growing up? How silly that would
be, a little girl's face on a body as mature as mine Or would I simply find a shattered face, cracked like some piece of thin china, the lines running down from my eyes where tears had streaked over my cheeks and chin. How long would it take to mend that face? Would it ever be mended so that the cracks would disappear and not look like scars of
sadness?
Was I pretty? Could I ever be pretty? Did I
have a face that someone could love under this mask?
Could I ever want to be kissed and touched? Could I
dream and fantasize like Misty just had and find
myself in a romantic place?
Daddy used to tell me so. He would cup my
face in his hands and kiss the tip of my nose and say I
was blossoming and soon all of my mirrors would
reflect my beauty. When he spoke to me like that, I
felt I was in a fairy tale and maybe I could be
someone's princess. For a long time, he made me feel
like I was his special princess, but because of that had
my ability to love someone been crushed like a small
flower, smashed into the earth, fading, fading, dying
away like some distant star given a moment to twinkle
before it fell back into the darkness forever and ever? No, I didn't want to go home again. I had to
keep trying.
"I'll go back," I insisted.
"Okay," Doctor Marlowe said, "but if you
change your mind or have any problems, please don't
hesitate to stop and ask to go home. I don't want to
lose all the progress we've made to date. That can
happen if things are rushed sometimes," she said. "Rushed?" I laughed and the sound of that
laughter seemed strange even to me. I knew it was
strange and worrisome because Doctor Marlowe
didn't smile but grimaced instead.
"Rushed? You know what it's like to look out
the car window and see girls my age and younger
walking on the sidewalk with their friends and
boyfriends, their faces full of joy, their lives full of
promises? I feel like an animal in a cage. I didn't put
myself into that cage, either. It's not fair. I want to get
out, Doctor Marlowe."
"I know, honey, and I'm going to help you do
just that."
I gazed at the bathroom door.
"They all had bad times, too, but they looked so
shocked and afraid back there."
She nodded.
"One or two of them might not want to stay, but
somehow, I think you'll all get through it," she said.
She squeezed my hand and I took a deep breath and
smiled. "Ready?"
"Yes. Take me back. I want to focus on all the
bad things just like you told me to do, and I want to
put all my anger and strength into smashing them to
bits forever and ever. Will I ever be able to do that?" She smiled.
"I know you will," she said firmly enough to
make me feel confident.
I walked out and returned to the office. I could
see they had been talking incessantly about me. The
expressions on their faces were so