Chapter 12
"THAT WAS VERY INTERESTING," DR. WELLINGTON said.
"What was interesting?"
Lying there on his couch, I opened my eyes and realized I'd been telling him about that crazy party.
"When you looked ahead and the years frightened you."
"Every girl gets old," I said sullenly.
"Of course. And every girl has to make a choice. A good time and the devil with tomorrow, or find a man, settle down, and lead a solid life."
"A dreary life, you mean."
"That depends on the point of view. The responsibilities of marriage, children and a home can become monotonous, but they have their compensations."
"Name one."
Dr. Wellington shook his head. "No. we won't go into that. I'm more interested in what happened to you. That was only one of the parties you went to, wasn't it?"
"I told you about some of the others."
"There was the one with the members of that motorcycle club."
"The initiation."
"When they made you one of them."
"But they didn't. I went to their meeting in that old loft—"
"There were fifteen, you said."
"Yes. But let's not talk about that."
A member! Big deal! Fifteen times in that hot little room. One after another and little Lorna doing her best. Doing her best until she was wallowing in it! Wanting to become a member and have one guy to ride behind on a motorcycle.
But it was nothing but a trick. The next morning they thundered out of town. And Lorna wasn't with them.
I remembered that, all right.
"Let's do talk about it," Dr. Wellington said. "Let's find out if it really happened."
I came half up off the lounge. "Well, if it didn't, there must have been some other reason why I staggered around for two days like I'd been through a coffee mill."
"That's our problem, Lorna, what really happened to you and what were the dreams."
"I always told you when it was a dream."
"But I think you got a little mixed up. I've read what you wrote. Some of it isn't the same as what you told me."
"But most of it was."
"That's right. But why didn't you mention, in what you wrote, the incident where you went home with the fat man and he put thigh-length black boots on you — "
"Because it was too disgusting."
"Were there actually marks on your buttocks from the whip?"
"You're trying to mix me up!"
"On the contrary, I'm trying to straighten things out in your mind."
"You've got a funny way of doing it."
Suddenly, all the words seemed a waste of time. I was on his couch and he was there; we were alone so what were we waiting for? He knew damned well he wanted me.
"You're itching to go to bed with me, aren't you?"
"Why did you suddenly ask that question?"
He was making me mad. "Good God! Do we have to ask the reason for every word we say? Isn't it obvious? You want me and you know it."
"Lorna—"
"Maybe you need something to excite your imagination. Well, there it is. Do you like it?"
He didn't tell me to pull my skirt down. He looked, deliberately and calmly, and then raised his eyes to my face.
"Lorna, the time's come to face facts. You see, they didn't give me all the time in the world to work with you. That tends to change things. It isn't as though you were a private patient."
"What are you talking about?"
"They want results. They want a report. The courts move slowly, but sometimes psychiatry, when it's done right, moves slower."
"That's all a lot of double talk."
"Perhaps, but we must get on with it. Now quite often, you've admitted telling half-truths, incidents that really occurred but in a different way than you told it."
I sat up on the couch. "Name one!"
"Well, the conversation you had in the hall at school about the blond gas-station attendant. Hank. You admitted that your girl friend didn't say anything about her friend being stripped and made to stand beside the car, naked."
"But why would I say that if it wasn't true?"
"I think because you wanted to go out with Hank, but you had to have a reason that satisfied you."
"What was the reason?"
"You were avenging a dear friend, who, by the way, wasn't a friend at all. You scarcely knew her."
"You're so smart!" I sneered. "You're so damned smart. Why don't you tell my stories? You know more about my life than I know myself."
He was paying no attention to my hostility. He said, "There's a reverse trend in your continuity, that's very interesting, Lorna. Let's look into that."
"Quit using such big words."
"You understand them," he said. "When you wrote, you used words very well."
"What's that got to do with what we're talking about?"
"Nothing, I guess. But let's get back to Ben. That was his name, wasn't it? The man who came to your house and tried to improve you."
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. For a few seconds I was scared sick.
"The man you raped, Lorna."
"He was a dream. I told you he was a dream. And that proves you're the one that's mixed up. Calling him real!"
"I didn't call him real. I'm well aware that you told me he was a dream."
"But you don't believe me."
"Yes, Lorna, I do."
I felt greatly relieved. But it was strange. I didn't know why I'd gotten scared so suddenly and then felt better when he said he believed me. I couldn't find any reason.
"I think Ben is symbolic. A dream, yes, but as a defensive distortion for a real person."
"That's crazy! What person?"
"A real person who did talk to you and try to get you to settle down and conduct your life more sensibly."
"What person?" I fairly screamed out the words.
"Frank! Your sister's husband." "Why that's silly! Who was Frank to try and straighten anybody out?"
"You were terribly jealous because your sister had him and he wouldn't respond to you."
"You're crazy! You're the one who needs the psychiatrist!"
He ignored that. "Ben was a symbol for Frank. That was the basis of your whole cover-up. The whole distortion that followed."
I was sitting on the edge of the couch with my fists doubled. I hated him. If the paper knife had been closer, I'd have grabbed it and jammed it into his belly and then kicked his face in when he was on the floor.
"No distortions followed! Nothing. It was the way I said."
"No, Lorna. From that point on your whole picture is distorted. Frank's death at the hands of hoodlums. Your sister having a breakdown and going into a home."
"I told the truth!"
"Your sister isn't in a mental home. There was no breakdown. She was stunned and grievously shocked by Frank's death, but — "
"At least you admit that Frank's dead," I sneered. "You're not telling me that was a dream too."
"Yes, Lorna, Frank is dead, but he wasn't killed by hoodlums. He — "
"You're telling me Frank is Ben and I took Frank down into the basement and raped him?"
"No. That didn't happen. That was justification to your ego. Frank repulsed you, but you didn't take him to the basement. You never left the living room when he told you he wouldn't go to bed with you."
"My God!" I screamed. "You're telling me that — "
"You grabbed a vase from the table and hit Frank on the head. When he fell, you hit him again."
"You're a liar! You're a rotten, filthy liar!" I never — "
"You beat your brother-in-law to death, Lorna. You were found there with the vase in your hand, your mind a complete blank. You were arrested and brought here. It's been my job to try and bring it all back to you."
"No —no!"
"They want to put you in the chair for murder, Lorna. But they can't if you're insane. And it's my job to find out if you are."
I lunged at him. "You're crazy. I'm not insane. I'm as sane as you are. And everything you said is a great big lie."
He grabbed me by the wrists and forced me down on the couch.
"I'm sane! I'm sane! And you're a liar!"
Then the door opened and two matrons came in. They brought a hypodermic and I was taken to my room...
When I woke up I was quieter. All the hysteria and fright were gone. I'm not afraid any more. I'm not even afraid of being electrocuted. After all, I went out for every experience. And if I'm electrocuted, that will only leave cholera that I missed.
Joke.
But I don't feel very humorous. I kept on writing because I'm still here and it fills the time. But I really don't care what happens to me.
After all, I'm really complete in myself. When I'm disturbed, all I have to do is lie down on my bed and dream. I can bring in any man I want to: Hello, honey, my name is Jim. What are you doing tonight?
Nothing, sweetie. Get into bed with me...
Baby, where have you been all my life. You're gorgeous. Let me get to work on those boobs.
Roy, you're so tall, so handsome, so much man ...
"I'm not insane. Not in the least. And I'll probably die, but I don't care.
I did get a little mixed up on Frank and Sis. Like Dr. Wellington said, my putting Sis in a sanitarium in my dream was kind of making her take my place.
And I did kill Frank. But I'm sorry for that.
And I get away with things here, so I'm not so bad off. They have a few male attendants. There's one named Pat, and when he saw my boobs he began to drool.
He was willing to risk his job for a fling with me. He came in and right away his face was buried in my boobs while his hands were reaching down under my skirt and searching, exploring. My knees got weak and that wild reckless feeling came, and then I was on my knees with my arms around him.
The ecstasy...