THREE
* * *
Sitting. With Annie, there in the psychiatrist's office. Listening.
"No warning?" he asks.
"No," Annie says stiffly.
"Reverend?"
"You heard my wife."
He sighs, consults the file in front of him. For some reason this makes me angry. Find the reason, doctor. Find the damn reason my daughter tried to kill herself.
Fix her.
"We've done all the tests we can," he says. "No brain trauma, no evidence of schizophrenia, no physical symptoms of any kind."
"Depression?" offers Annie. "Kevin is a police officer. Maybe she was worried about him getting hurt on the job. He did get hurt that one time --"
The doctor shakes his head.
"Then what is it?" I ask. I'm trying to stay calm. My chest hurts and I know that isn't good.
"Lacking any physical cause, I'd have to rule it a nervous breakdown. Something was too much for her, and she retreated into childhood."
"My daughter cannot have a nervous breakdown!" Annie shouts. "She is loved!"
#
I've done a lot of counseling over the years. I've helped the mentally handicapped, the addicted, the bereaved. But nothing like this. I feel lost. I just want to know why this all happened, but I don't.
She was so happy, Lucy was. She had a good husband, and lived so close to her loving family. We took care of her, the way family is supposed to.
She was our little girl.
#
I'm feeding her now. She likes that, with the small spoon, opening her mouth for each new bite. A grown woman, being fed like an invalid. Soft food, too, mashed into a paste. Like baby food.
She is not an invalid. She isn't.
I look at her as I feed her. What happened, Lucy?
When we finish her lunch I look at her, and she looks back, her eyes bright.
"Would you like to go to a movie?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"No movie."
"All right. What would you like to do?"
"Read to me?"
"Why don't you read to me instead?"
She shakes her head violently. "No! No read!"
I try to speak, find that I cannot. I know you can read, my sweet Lucy. I know you can do what I do. You were so strong once -- what happened?
* * *
Sitting. With Annie, there in the psychiatrist's office. Listening.
"No warning?" he asks.
"No," Annie says stiffly.
"Reverend?"
"You heard my wife."
He sighs, consults the file in front of him. For some reason this makes me angry. Find the reason, doctor. Find the damn reason my daughter tried to kill herself.
Fix her.
"We've done all the tests we can," he says. "No brain trauma, no evidence of schizophrenia, no physical symptoms of any kind."
"Depression?" offers Annie. "Kevin is a police officer. Maybe she was worried about him getting hurt on the job. He did get hurt that one time --"
The doctor shakes his head.
"Then what is it?" I ask. I'm trying to stay calm. My chest hurts and I know that isn't good.
"Lacking any physical cause, I'd have to rule it a nervous breakdown. Something was too much for her, and she retreated into childhood."
"My daughter cannot have a nervous breakdown!" Annie shouts. "She is loved!"
#
I've done a lot of counseling over the years. I've helped the mentally handicapped, the addicted, the bereaved. But nothing like this. I feel lost. I just want to know why this all happened, but I don't.
She was so happy, Lucy was. She had a good husband, and lived so close to her loving family. We took care of her, the way family is supposed to.
She was our little girl.
#
I'm feeding her now. She likes that, with the small spoon, opening her mouth for each new bite. A grown woman, being fed like an invalid. Soft food, too, mashed into a paste. Like baby food.
She is not an invalid. She isn't.
I look at her as I feed her. What happened, Lucy?
When we finish her lunch I look at her, and she looks back, her eyes bright.
"Would you like to go to a movie?" I ask.
She shakes her head.
"No movie."
"All right. What would you like to do?"
"Read to me?"
"Why don't you read to me instead?"
She shakes her head violently. "No! No read!"
I try to speak, find that I cannot. I know you can read, my sweet Lucy. I know you can do what I do. You were so strong once -- what happened?