Chapter 2
"Wake up!" I heard bright and early in the morning. I groaned and looked around, forgetting all that had happened yesterday. When I saw Annabelle standing by my bed, my memory came back.
"Oh," I groaned, rolling onto my back.
"Get up! Come on!" she yelled energetically, ripping the covers off of me. I sat up and looked at my clock that sat beside my bed. It was five in the morning!
"What are you doing? It's five in the morning!" I shrieked, running my fingers through my hair.
"The early bird specials. Come one, get up! I'm taking you shopping so that we overstuff that closet!" she said, pulling me off of the bed. I stumbled to my feet and groaned. She smiled, saw that I was finally getting up, and walked downstairs. I immediately walked into the bathroom, turned on the shower, stripped my clothes and got into a cold shower, the water waking me up instantly. I quickly washed my hair and got out, drying off with a warm towel that had been put on the counter top. It was the first semi-hot shower I had taken in a long time, and I felt rejuvenated. I went through my clothes, picked out a nice pair of jeans and a T shirt, put on some makeup, and went downstairs. Annabelle was in the dining room, a big plate of breakfast foods out in front of her.
"Have a seat. You're going to need a big breakfast for today," she said, smiling as I sat down in the chair. The food looked excellent, and I quickly shoveled it down.
"I thought we might hit Amber drive; it's a popular shopping street in New Orleans. And we'd go to Barney's, Charlotte Russe..." she rambled off names of stores I had never heard of, and I nodded to satisfy her. Once she was finished with her meal, we walked outside and got into the car.
"I'm going to show you how to really shop!" she said excitedly. I nodded and rested my head against the window, wishing that I could go back to bed. We quickly approached Amber street, and the ladies were standing outside, waiting for the doors to open. Annabelle found a suitable place to park, and we headed over to the crowd.
"Is it always like this?" I asked, looking around at the gathering of women.
"Most days, yes," Annabelle replied, talking as if it were no big thing. The store owner finally arrived to open the doors, and the women swarmed inside, and we followed the crowd.
Throughout most of the day, Annabelle pulled me from one clothing rack to another, and I was thankful that I had good shoes on. We jumped from store to store, not stopping for even ten minutes, and by the end of the day, the trunk and the back seat of the car were filled with shopping bags.
"Well, I must say that we've had quite a successful day," Annabelle said smugly, and I nodded, wanting to crawl into my bed and sleep for the rest of the day. "When we get home, I'll have Nicholas make something for lunch that you'll absolutely die for. He's a wonderful chef."
"He's a chef?" I asked. By the way his office looked, he looked like an accountant of a lawyer.
"Yes, he's a wonderful gourmet chef. He own's his own restaurant on Restaurant Row," she announced proudly.
"That's why you don't have a cook," I said softly. We pulled onto the street and I looked around, the neighborhood feeling so familiar. I did once live in this neighborhood many years ago, but I couldn't remember which house or which street. After Grandmother Beverly gave me electroshock therapy, I couldn't remember much of the less important things of my life; I could only remember the day my mother was killed. So I guess the electroshock therapy didn't do it's job; I still remember, I thought.
"Here we are," Annabelle sang as we pulled into the driveway. I fell out of the car because of my sore legs, and opened the back seat door to help take the bags into the house, but Annabelle slapped my hands when I went to reach for a bag.
"That is why we have servants," she said snappishly. I pulled back in surprise and watched as she ordered Richard about, telling him where to put the bags. I thought she was being awfully rude; he was a human being, and she was treating him like an animal. I went inside to avoid the scene and went upstairs into my room, plopping down on my bed and sighing. It was the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in, and since I was so tired, it was even more comfortable. I curled up into a little ball and started to doze off when Annabelle stormed into my room.
"What are you doing? Get up!" She screeched. I jumped off the bed and looked around.
"What do I have to do?" I asked, trying not to seem ungrateful for taking me shopping the whole day.
"At least try on some of the clothes to show Nicholas that this day wasn't wasted," she said as if I were stupid and uncomprehending. I sighed, and shuffled over to my closet, which was almost filled with the clothes we had purchased. One of the maids whose name I hadn't learned yet was hanging up the clothes neatly. I smiled at her and looked at the racks of clothes, randomly picking out an outfit. I went into the bathroom to change my clothes and Annabelle dragged me downstairs.
"Nicholas, can you come here please?" Annabelle asked, poking her head into the kitchen. I stood in the dining room, waiting for them to come out, and once Nicholas saw me, he gasped.
"Rose, you look wonderful," he said, darting his eyes over at his wife.
"Aren't you glad I took her shopping and that I got her out of those dreadful street clothes?" Annabelle pressed, trying to get a few words of compliment out of Nicholas.
"Yes Annabelle darling, a job well done," he said dryly, wiping his hands on a dish rag.
"Go upstairs and try on more outfits Rose, and come down here to show Nicholas," Annabelle ordered in a sweeter tone. I nodded, sighed, and started to march out of the dining room.
"Annabelle, she doesn't have to show me any of these outfits; I'll see them eventually. Just tell her to get into her normal clothes and send her down into the kitchen. I'm sure she's starving after you pulled her from store to store."
"It's for her own good!" Annabelle cried. I hurried into my room to get out of the nice clothes and changed into a pair of jeans and a new T-shirt, and as I was changing, Annabelle came upstairs.
"Nicholas want you to come downstairs and help him in the kitchen," Annabelle said with bitterness in her voice. I nodded and watched as she walked away, mumbling something under her breath. I hurried downstairs and met Nicholas in the kitchen. He was busy chopping up a chicken breast and didn't notice me for a while. He suddenly turned around and jumped.
"You came in so quietly, I didn't hear you," he said with a chuckle. "Come here." I stepped up to the counter. "Chop this. The knives are in the middle drawer." I hurried over, pulled out a knife, and started to chop a head of broccoli he had told me to chop. We were standing there, working silently when a random question popped into my head.
"Nicholas? Why were you so eager to take me in?"
He kept chopping as if nothing had phased him. "I saw a beautiful girl with a lot of potential that needed help. It was my good deed of the day." My heart sank to hear him say that, but when I looked over, I could tell he was just kidding.
"Did you know my mother?" I asked after a few minutes.
"I knew your mother quite well. Annabelle would throw parties often, to announce a new restaurant opening or for a Christmas party, and your mother would always be there. She was beautiful, just like you." I nodded, contemplating the thought.
"I don't mean to have doubts, I was just kinda wondering," I said softly, trying not to hurt him.
"Did you ever meet me? I don't remember ever going to any of these parties," I said, putting the chopped broccoli into a bowl.
"When you were three years old, your mother stopped coming to the parties. I think it was because she needed to concentrate on you instead of going to parties," he concluded, stopping to think of old memories.
"Did you ever know who my father was?" I asked daringly, hoping I would find some clue.
"Your mother was an enchantress. She had many boyfriends over, and was never engaged, so I'm sorry to say that I don't know who he was," he said, turning to look at me. I hid my disappointment and drummed my fingers on the counter.
"Why don't you go to the fridge and pull out some cheese, ravioli, and asparagus?" Nicholas suggested, and I scurried over to the kitchen and pulled out his list of ingredients. I put them on the counter and sighed.
"How long have you been a chef?" I questioned, watching as he shredded some cheese.
"For twenty years," he replied. "I own 4 restaurants and I graduated with high honors in my culinary school."
"Wow," I whispered, leaning against the counter. He started to put a main dish together, and I pulled up a stool to watch. "How long have you been married to Annabelle?"
"Why are you so full of questions?" He asked with a smile. I shrugged.
"I just want to get to know you, that's all. I don't want to be living in a strangers house," I replied. He nodded with reasoning.
"We've been married 20 years," he announced, and I nodded.
"Has Annabelle always been like that?"
"Of course. She has never changed. Always a shopping fiend. She always wanted to be the one noticed for her sense of style; her way to keep up with the styles and trends."
"Where did you go to school? Where did you grow up? I want to know all of it!" I exclaimed with my hands up in the air. He laughed.
"Why? Are you going to write a book on me?" He questioned, raising his eyebrow.
"If your story is good enough," I said, shrugging. Nicholas laughed and nodded.
"Well, if you must know, I was born on May 14, 1956 in New Orleans. I lived in a big house until I was 12, when my father died. My mother and I moved out of the huge house on Penny Street and lived in an apartment with my two brothers. I started to cook when I was 15, because my mother was at work and couldn't make suitable meals for us. After I graduated high school, I started working in a restaurant that was known for it's chefs. I scraped up some money and decided to go to culinary school to pursue a career in culinary arts, and I graduated with high honors in my class. I was funded enough money to open up my own restaurant and now I'm a successful chef and business man."
"When did you meet Annabelle?"
"During my senior year of high school," he answered. "We married two years after that." I nodded and stood up.
"I think I'm going to head up to my room and write a little," I announced, suddenly feeling inspired to pick up my novels again
"Wonderful idea. If you're still hungry, you're welcome to rummage through the fridge," Nicholas announced as I walked out of the kitchen. I shrugged and hurried up the stairs, once again bumping into Zach.
"Sorry," I said with a small laugh. "We seem to bump into each other instead of passing each other."
"Yeah," he said, shrugging. He had a towel wrapped around his waist and he was shirtless.
"Going to the pool?" I asked, trying to communicate with him a little, since we were living together now.
"Yeah, do you want to come?" he asked. It was the first time he had genuinely smiled at me. I chewed on my lip.
"I don't know how to swim," I mumbled, and he looked at me.
"You don't know how to swim?" He asked, surprised.
"I never had any time," I said, lowering my head.
"Well, go into your room and put on a bathing suit, and I'll teach you how to swim," he offered. My mouth gaped open. "Go on, don't just stand there, get changed!" I ran into my room, rummaged through my drawers, found a suitable bathing suit, and slipped inside of it. I was a little self conscious in a bathing suit, but I tried to put that aside as I followed Zach down to the pool. It was huge; at least 30 yards long with a basketball hoop attached and a beautiful rock waterfall in the corner. Zach immediately jumped in, and I sat beside the side of the pool, waiting.
"Come here," he said, swimming to the shallow end of the pool. I walked over and sat down on the first step, adjusting to the cold water. He shook his head, water droplets falling every where, and smiled. "OK, let's try floating."
"I sink easy," I joked, stepping fully into the pool. He glared at me and ordered me to come toward him.
"It's because of your big brain," he muttered under his breath. I looked at him curiously. "Well it sure isn't because you're fat."
I grinned. "Thank you," I said softly, and I moved around in the water a little bit.
"OK, um, try floating on your back," he said. "I'll be right here so I won't let you drown." I took a deep breath, suddenly and stupidly feeling nervous and I started to arch my back, and lifted up my feet. I took a deep breath, just in case I went under, and I was suddenly floating on my back, staring up at the blue sky.
"Good!" Zach exclaimed, and I smiled while trying to keep myself afloat. "Now try a backstroke. It's like floating but you're just moving backwards using your arms and legs. Do you think you can manage?"
"I guess," I said, feeling the butterflies flitting around in my stomach. I tried to imitate the swimmers on the Olympics when I could watch TV, but I ended up moving to quickly, and I went under the water. My eyes popped open, feeling the unfamiliar burn of chlorine in my eyes as I sank to the bottom, trying to swim up. Zach immediately dove underneath the surface and grabbed me by the waist, pulling us up to the air. I gulped for breath and held on to the side of the pool.
"Hey, are you OK?" Zach asked, gliding over to make sure that I was OK. I nodded, letting some air into my lungs and rested my head against the side. "I'm sorry, I'm not a very good teacher for being a swim buff," he added, scratching the back of his head. Once I had caught my breath, I glided over to him.
"Let's try just normal swimming and breathing," he suggested, and I gladly nodded. After what just happened, I didn't want to end up there again. We spent most of the day swimming around, and I finally picked up on a few things. Nicholas called us in for dinner, and we ran inside, changing into some suitable clothing and heading downstairs. Annabelle was seated at herplace at the table,obviously perturbed.
"What were you doing all day?" she asked Zach, completely ignoring me as I sat down at the table.
"I was teaching Rose how to swim. She didn't know how," Zach answered, curious as to why his own mother was mad at him.
"You shouldn't be teaching her all of those...athletic things. She'll be strong and have muscles which will take away from her femininity," Annabelle snapped, glaring at her son.
"Oh hush Annabelle, it's a healthy sport and if Rose likes to do it, then you should let her do it," Nicholas interjected as he entered the dining room. Annabelle shot an evil glare at him and shot a look at me. Easily intimidated, I turned away from her gaze. We immediately went into eating dinner, having some light conversation being bounced back and forth between each other before I excused myself.
"I'm sorry, dinner was wonderful, but I'm full and I'm exhausted from the day in the pool," I said, putting my napkin on my plate.
"You're excused dear," Nicholas said, and I hurried from the table to head up into my room to wash my hair and to change into pajamas. Just as I was getting ready for bed, Zach knocked on my door.
"Hey, you did really great out there today," he complimented with a smile. I beamed. "After school tomorrow, we can go back out there if you want."
"After school?" I asked. It was only the beginning of August and school wouldn't be starting for a while.
"Yes, the first day is tomorrow. Didn't my dad tell you that?" Zach asked curiously, leaning against the doorframe. I shook my head.
"No, maybe he forgot to mention it," I thought out loud. Zach shrugged.
"You'll be going to a private school; it's one of the best," he announced.
"Is it nice?" I asked. I prayed inside that I was going to like this school, because my time at the Academy wasn't so glorious.
"Yeah, it's alright. I think you'd like it," he mumbled, and I managed a faint smile.
"You'll need to get some rest; it's a long trip to the school and Mom wakes us up at the crack of dawn; no joke," he said with a chuckle. I laughed and nodded, pulling back my covers.
"Goodnight Rose," he said, and he shut the door. I crawled into bed and sank under the covers, feeling exhausted from the day. I immediately went to sleep, having a nightmare that often occurred.
"Rosalyn, come on, we have to go," Grandma said, taking my hand and pulling me down the stairs. My tiny feet pitter-pattered on the floor.
"Where are we going Grandma?" I asked in a near whisper. She lowered her head to look at me eye to eye.
"We're going to see a psychiatrist to help you," she said, trying to help me understand.
"What's that?" I asked, trying to sound out the word I couldn't pronounce. She stopped, realized that she was talking to a four year old, and sighed.
"It someone that's going to help you about what happened to Mommy," she said, taking my coat from the butler and slipping my arms into it.
"What's happened to Mommy?" I asked, leaning my head to the side. Grandma paused, and turned to me. I always saw that face when I mentioned my mother; a mixture of fear, shock and disbelief on her face. She quickly shook it off and smiled.
"Mommy is in heaven now," she said, nodding to the butler and he opened the door for us.
"How come?" I asked softly. I looked up at Grandma and saw that she was somewhat happy because it was the first time that I had talked in at least two months, but annoyed that I was asking so many questions.
"Because God wanted her up in Heaven to write him wonderful stories," she said shortly, and we got into the backseat of the Rolls Royce my Grandmother owned. I looked around the interior, always in awe of what was around me. There was always something to intrigue my imagination, and I stared out the window the whole ride to the psychiatrists office. Once we arrived, we entered into a small, boring white building and were escorted by two doctors.
"Hello Rosalyn. My name is Dr. Meeker," one of the doctors said, introducing himself. I smiled. He was a very handsome man and I liked him off the bat. "Do you want a lollipop?" He asked, pulling one out of his breast pocket. It was grape, my favorite flavor, and I snatched it from his hand and ripped off the wrapper.
"Rosalyn, say please and thank you," Grandma snapped, annoyed that I forgot how to use my manors.
"Please and thank you," I said, popping the sucker into my mouth and holding tight to the stick. He smiled and looked up at my Grandmother.
"She's a sweet child," he said.
"It's the first time she's talked in two months," Grandmother announced, looking down at me. I blinked my innocent eyes at her and she gave me a light smile.
"Well, shall we proceed this way then?" Dr. Meeker asked, and he took my hand and we walked down the long hallways.
"Have there been any new developments?" The doctor asked. Grandma nodded.
"Well, she talked for the first time since that day, but she's completely forgotten what happened. She asks for her mother in her sleep, and she talks as if nothing has happened to her; as if she has simply disappeared," Grandma said as we walked down the hallway. I looked up at the doctor, and he gave me a big enthusiastic smile. "Are you sure this treatment is necessary?"
"We've out ruled all of the other options. This way is the sure way to eliminate this horrible thing from her mind."
"But she's very young. Won't she eventually learn how to put this behind her?"
"This event has had a very large effect on her. She wont eat, talk; she has nightmares about it, and she's forgetting about random events. If Rosalyn doesn't have this treatment, her emotional and mental well being will deteriorate. This is the only option. If money is the problem..."
"No, money isn't the problem," Grandma said thoughtfully, looking at the ground as she walked. "If you think this is the only way out, then I trust you."
"Wonderful," he said with a smile. "Do you hear that Rosalyn? You're going to get better!" He exclaimed. I continued to suck on my purple sucker and we still walked down the corridor until we stopped at the last door of the hall. Dr. Meeker punched in a code in a pad next to the door, and the doors open, and I looked around. The walls were bare white, and there wasn't very much lighting the room. It was round; the center of the room was round with glass barriers. A huge white chair like a dentists chair sat in the middle, and a huge white computer sat next to it. Men were working in the outer ring, typing on computers and reading charts. Dr. Meeker sense I was scared of this room, and he squeezed my hand.
"It's okay," he said softly, looking around at his co workers. Grandmother saw the terrified expression on my face and she turned to the doctor.
"How are you going to explain this to a five year old?" She asked, pulling her toward me. I wrapped my arms around her legs and sucked on my lollipop. Dr. Meeker gave her a quick glare and he stooped down to my level. I hovered closer to Grandmother Beverly.
"Rosalyn, look at me for a minute," he ordered gently, but I kept my eyes closed and I kept my face turned away from him. He knew I wasn't going to respond to him, so he sighed and touched my arm. I pulled it away. "What we're going to do is we're going to put you in that chair there, and we're going to strap you in to make sure that you don't fall out, and we're going to hook up little plugs to your brain. And then little lightning bolts are going to travel through those plugs into your brain, and you're going to forget what happened that day that you're-"
"Stop!" My Grandmother yelled in mid sentence. Dr. Meeker stopped his tongue, smiled and took my hand again. I wanted to snatch it away from him, but Grandmother gave me a reassuring nod and I followed the doctor into the middle of the room. Grandmother stayed behind, and I reached out for her, but she shook her head and nodded toward the chair. Dr. Meeker hoisted me up into the chair and started to strap me down into the seat. Panic started to rise inside of me, and I tried to get out of the chair, but the he had strapped me in tight. Grandmother stood in the outer ring of the room, lightly mopping her eyes with her handkerchief. The lights dimmed, and I was terrified of the dark. Nurses entered the room and started to put the plugs onto my head, and at that moment, I suddenly saw what fate had done to my mother. I started to scream for her, my dead mother but the nurses ignored my pleas.
"Grandma!" I cried, my little hand reaching out to touch her. She turned away, her shoulders shaking with heavy sobs and I burst out into tears.
"Stop! Don't!" I yelled, kicking and fighting my way out of the chair, but it was fighting a losing battle. They put a leather strap into my mouth for reasons I didn't know, and the nurses and Dr. Meeker left the room. They put on dark goggles to protect their eyes, and I started screaming. The lights went dark except for a spotlight on me, and that was when the electricity came. It jolted my brain, and I went into seizures one after another. I could hear the roar of the sirens, my Grandmother's scream, my own yelling against the machine, and suddenly, all went black.
"Rose! Rose!" Nicholas was screaming in my ear. I sat up and looked around the room, expecting to be strapped into the chair and having the plugs on my temples. I was covered in sweat, and I found that I was out of breath. "You were having a nightmare," Nicholas said, and I caught my breath and nodded. "What was it about?"
"Oh, uh, I was dreaming about drowning," I lied, wiping my forehead of excess sweat. He nodded and rubbed my shoulder.
"Are you going to be ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I muttered, closing my eyes.
"Get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow," he said, walking toward the door.
"Yeah, I know," I said bitterly, remembering that he hadn't told me that I was going to school. He smiled, shut the door, and I lay back on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
I didn't get much sleep after that.