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“There’s no excuse for neglecting children. None. Absolutely none.”
Megan snagged a Kleenex and wiped her face.
“And you didn’t let yourself be angry? Why not?”
“Because my mother was doing something good. My aunt’s a nice lady. She always calls and asks about me and wants me to come visit her. Only I don’t ‘cause…
“Because you’re angry with her. She took your mother away from you.
A chill. “Yeah, I guess she did.”
“Come on, Megan. What else? Why the guilt?”
“Because my aunt needed my mom more back then. When I was little. See-”
Crazy Megan interrupts. Oh, you can’t tell him that! Yes, I can. I can tell him anything.
“See, Uncle Harris killed himself.”
“He did?”
“I felt so bad for my aunt.”
“Forget it!” he snapped.
Megan blinked.
“You’re Bett’s daughter You should have been the center of her universe. What she did was inexcusable. Say it. Say it!”
“I…"
“Say it!”
“It was inexcusable!”
“Good. Now write it to her. Every bit of the anger you feel. Get it out.”
The pen rolled from Megan’s lap onto the floor. She bent down and picked it up. It weighed a hundred pounds. The tears ran from her nose and eyes and dripped on the paper.
“Tell her,” the doctor said. “Tell her that she’s greedy. That she turned her back on her daughter and took care of her sister instead.”
“But,” Megan managed to say, “that’s greedy of me.”
“Of course it’s greedy. You were a child, you’re supposed to be greedy. Parents are there to fill your needs. That’s the whole point of parents. Tell her what you feel.”
Her head swam-from the electricity in the black eyes boring into hers, from her desire, her fear.
From her anger…
In ten seconds, it seemed, she’d filled the entire sheet. She dropped the paper on the floor. It floated like a pale leaf The doctor ignored it.
“Now. Your father.”
Megan froze, shaking her head. She looked desperately at the wall clock. “Next time. Please.”
“No. Now. What are you mad about?”
Her stomach muscles were hard as a board. “Well, I’m mad ‘cause why doesn’t he want to see me? He didn’t even fight the custody agreement. I see him every two or three months.”
“Tell him.”
“I-”
“Tell him!”
She wrote. She poured her fury on to the page. When the sheet was half full her pen braked to a halt.
“What else is it, Megan? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, what do I hear?” he said. “The passion’s slipping. Something’s wrong. You’re holding back.” Dr. Peters frowned, “Whispering bears. Something about that story’s important. What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Go into the place where it hurts the most. We go deep, remember. That’s how I operate. I’m Super Shrink.”
Crazy Megan can’t take it anymore. She just wants to curl up into a little crazy ball and disappear.
The doctor moved closer, pulling his chair beside her. Their knees touched. “Come on. What is it?”
“No. I don’t know what it is…
“You want to tell me. You need to tell me.” He dropped to his knees, gripped her by the shoulders. “Touch the most painful part. Touch it! Your father’s read you the story. He comes to the last line. ‘Bears can’t talk.’ He puts the book away. Then what happens?”
She sat forward, shivering, and stared at the floor. “I go upstairs to pack.”
“Your mother’s coming to pick you up?”
Eyes squinting closed painfully. “She’s here. I hear the car in the driveway.”
“Okay. Bett walks inside. You’re upstairs and your parents are downstairs. They’re talking?”
“Yeah. They’re saying things I can’t hear at first then I get closer. I sneak down to the landing.”
“You can hear them?”
“Yes.”
“What do they say?”
“I don’t know. Stuff.”
“What do they say?” The doctor’s voice filled the room. “Tell me!”
“They were talking about a funeral.”
“Funeral? Whose?”
“I don’t know. But there was something bad about it. Something really bad.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there, Megan? They say something else.”
“No!” she said desperately. “Just the funeral.”
“Megan, tell me.”
“I…"
“Go on. Touch the place it hurts.”
“Tate said…,” Megan felt faint. She struggled to control the tears. “He called me… They were talking about me. And my daddy said.. She took deep gulps of air, which turned to fire in her lungs and throat. The doctor blinked in surprise as she screamed, “My daddy shouted, ‘It would all’ve been different without her, without that damn inconvenient child up there. She ruined everything!’”
Megan lowered her head to her knees and wept. The doctor put his arm around her shoulders. She felt his hand stroke her head.
“And how did you feel when you heard him say that?” He brushed away the stream of her tears.
“I don’t know… I cried.”
“Did you want to run away?”
“I guess I did.”
“You wanted to show him, didn’t you? If that’s what he thinks of me I’ll pay him back. I’ll leave. That’s what you thought, isn’t it?”
Another nod,
“You wanted to go someplace where people weren’t greedy, where people loved you, where people had children’s books for you, where they read and talked to you.”
She sobbed into a wad of Kleenex.
“Tell him, Megan. Write it down. Get it out so you can look at it.”
She wrote until the tears grew so bad she couldn’t see the page. Then she collapsed against the doctor’s chest, sobbing.
“Good, Megan,” he a
She gripped him tighter than she’d ever gripped a lover, pressing her head against his neck. For a moment neither of them moved. She was frozen here, embracing him fiercely, desperately. He stiffened and for a moment she believed that he was feeling the same sorrow she was. Megan started to back away so that she could see his kind face and his black eyes but he continued to hold her tightly, so hard that a sudden pain swept through her arm.
A surge of alarming warmth spread through her body. It was almost arousing.
Then they separated. Her smile faded as she saw in his face an odd look.
Jesus, what’s going on?
His eyes were cold, his smile was cruel. He was suddenly a different person.
“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” He said nothing.
She started to repeat herself but the words wouldn’t come. Her tongue had grown heavy in her swollen mouth. It fell against her dry teeth. Her vision was crinkling. She tried once again to say something but couldn’t.
She watched him stand and open a canvas bag that was resting on the floor behind his desk. He put away a hypodermic syringe. He was pulling on latex gloves.
“What’re you” she began, then noticed on her arm, where the pain radiated, a small dot of blood.
“No!” She tried to ask him what he was doing but the words vanished in comic mumbling. She tried to scream.
A whisper.
He walked to her and crouched, cradling her head, which sagged toward the couch.
Crazy Megan is beyond crazy. She loves him, she’s terrified of him, she wants to kill him.
“Go to sleep,” he said in a voice kinder than her father’s ever sounded. “Go to sleep.”
Finally, from the drug, or from the fear, the room went black and she slumped into his arms.