The Aperture

Chapter 23

Plus One

After a few weeks, Alyndia had been allowed to rejoin the other patients. Dutifully, she took her tablets and did not complain. She idled away her days watching daytime television soap operas and game shows and playing checkers and cards with the other patients. In time, her mind adjusted to the dosages of the medications, and moments of clarity came more frequently. Very often her thoughts dwelled on Gerald. She wondered how he was. Although the medications had blunted her emotions somewhat, she still missed him sorely and could be moved to tears if she thought long enough at the trouble their association had already caused the both of them.

MacGregor had come to the hospital twice over the last three weeks to visit her, but she had refused to meet him both times. This afternoon, she had another meeting scheduled with Dr. Gilbreth. Her meetings with him were like a cat and mouse game, as he often baited her with offhand false statements and incorrect questions to check her grasp on reality. After every meeting with him, she carefully processed their conversation, analyzing everything that was said, trying to fathom subtle cues from him that would guide her in convincing him that she was “sane.” Through trial and error, she found that a positive attitude and sense of humor worked in her favor when interacting with him.

Alyndia also found out quickly that honesty was not always the best policy when talking with hospital psychiatrists. If she did lie, however, she had to do it convincingly because they were quite adept at detecting deception. She had worked out a kind of game for herself in which she would secretly assign herself one point for each “correct” statement she made and subtract one point for each “incorrect” statement. She tried to leave each meeting with at least ten points in her favor. The goal, of course, was to acquire enough points over time to be released.

“Come on in, Connie. Have a seat,” Dr. Gilbreth said.

Connie sat in the leather chair in front of Dr. Gilbreth’s desk, just as she’d done many times in the past. He picked up her file, looked through it, and jotted down something into it with a metal-tipped pen. While he did so, she spied a glass bowl of mints in clear plastic wrappers at the corner of his desk. Sometimes he offered her a mint. Today he didn’t.

“May I have a mint?” she asked.

“Sure, help yourself.”

She took a mint, unwrapped it, and popped it into her mouth. The cool feeling swelled in her mouth and filled her nasal cavity. She liked it. Now she watched him carefully, looking for cues on what to say and what not to say. Dr. Gilbreth put down the pen and leaned back in his chair.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Is the medication working out for you?”

“Yes. I think I’ve gotten used to it.”

“That’s good. Well, I was thinking about reducing your dosage.”

She smiled her most pleasant smile. “You’re the doctor. If you think that’s best, I trust your judgment.”

He smiled slightly. Plus one point, she thought.

He continued, “I have record that your partner William MacGregor has come to visit you twice in the last week, but you’ve refused his visit. What can you say about that?”

“He betrayed me by bringing me here; for that, I don’t want to see him.” At those words, she detected the hint of a micro-frown behind the doctor’s glasses. Minus one point. “What I mean to say is: I had no idea how confused I was, and so I was shocked that he’d seen the need to bring me here.”

“So you realized that he was trying to help you?”

“Yes, although I didn’t realize it at the time.” She sighed. “I guess I’d like to make more progress in my treatment here before I see him. After all, I’m kind of embarrassed by my behavior.” Plus one.

“Well, you do seem to be making progress.”

“Thanks. By the way, I’m sorry about what I did a few weeks ago when I kicked that orderly and broke his ribs. I haven’t seen him here. I hope he’s all right.”

“Yes, he’s better. He’s working downstairs now. That’s why you haven’t seen him.”

“When you see him, tell him I’m sorry. I was just having a really bad day.” Plus one.

“I’ll do that. But keep in mind that although we make every attempt to promote a safe working environment here, such injuries might still occur. Sadly, the risk of injury is relatively high for the orderlies and other staff in our ward when compared to other wards in the hospital.”

“I certainly would never want to hurt any of them or anyone else for that matter.”

“I’m still a little puzzled by your personality change,” he added.

“Does my new personality make me crazy? Maybe I was crazy before my personality changed, and now I’m normal. Did you ever consider that?” Plus one.

“I don’t actually use those words to describe my patients,” he said with a note of defensiveness. “Everyone falls into a spectrum. But your personality underwent a profound change over a very short period. That’s my concern. It leads me to believe that your brain suffered some kind of trauma, possibly from that fall in the hospital, even though we have not found any physical signs of it.”

“So, if you believe I have a brain injury, can you heal it?”

“Although the brain does have significant ability to compensate for damage, generally, healing such an injury is not possible.”

“Then why am I still here?”

“First and foremost, we need to ascertain that you are not a threat to yourself and others.”

“Okay. That’s reasonable.”

“Moreover, because of the nature of your work at the CIA, we have decided to observe you to determine your loyalties and what kind of threat you represent to the security of the United States.”

“You think I’ve become a terrorist?”

“Not specifically, but we have to make sure.”

“I can assure you that I’m no threat to the United States or any other country.”

“But there is also the matter you’ve adopted the story of Professor Layton as your own narrative, and that’s my main point of concern. I’m not aware of all the details of your case. His reason for giving such a story could be construed as some part of a ruse to throw the investigation off track. In your case, there’s no reason for you to adopt such a narrative for yourself. You had a very successful career with your agency. You had everything to lose by going along with what he says. And we must take into consideration your behavior toward him at the interrogation.”

“Oh, I’m embarrassed by that. I don’t know what came over me. That was very unprofessional of me, wasn’t it?” Plus one.

“Your employer seems to think so. And it did raise suspicions about your mental health. You understand this now, don’t you?”

“Absolutely. As I said earlier, I’m embarrassed. Humiliated, even. And, you know, that’s another reason I don’t want to see my partner again. How can I face him after kissing that guy?” Plus one.

“That’s something you two will have to work out between yourselves.”

“In good time.” She nodded. “In good time, but not now.”

“There’s also the issue of your memory lapses.”

“Yes, but I’m remembering more and more every day.”

“Still, the prognosis is not entirely favorable. After a brain injury in which long-term memory is lost, it’s rare for a person to recover 100 percent of those memories. There are almost always holes and gaps.”

“I don’t feel as though I’ve forgotten anything.”

“But how do you know what you’ve forgotten if you cannot remember what you’ve forgotten?”

Alyndia paused to parse what he’d just said. Finally, she shook her head. “You’ve lost me there. Can you repeat that?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now, I have a question for you. Suppose I told you that you probably will not be able to resume your work at the agency. What is your reaction to that?”

“That’s fine with me.”

He narrowed his eyes, gazing at her with that scrutinizing look of his she’d come to recognize. Minus one.

“You’ve been with the agency many years. You’ve invested your career in it. You don’t see losing your job there as a terrible loss?”

“Well, maybe it was time for a change anyway. Maybe that job wasn’t right for me, and my being here, in part, is a result of that dissonance.” She smiled. “Who knows? Maybe I should go back to college and become a psychiatrist like you. I think that talking with people with crazy imaginations like me every day, your job must be very entertaining.”

Dr. Gilbreth smiled. “Maybe you’re right. It has its interesting moments.” Plus one.

“Anyway, in case you’ve been wondering, no decision has been made yet on your status at the agency. I can only submit my findings, and they will make their decision based on their own criteria.”

“That sounds fair enough. Now, Dr. Gilbreth, if you don’t mind, I have a question for you.”

“Okay.”

“Suppose I resigned from the agency here and now—just walked away from my work at the CIA. Could I then leave this place?”

“Are you considering doing this?”

“Honestly, it’s crossed my mind.”

Dr. Gilbreth nodded. “I see what you’re getting at. Allow me to clear some things up for you. Although the CIA was instrumental in bringing you here for reasons of which you are aware, they do not decide your treatment or how long you will stay here. Such decisions are made entirely by my staff and I, and we make our decisions based on certain medical criteria.” He raised his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “Your actual length of stay with us depends on your treatment outcomes. And, as I’ve told you before, you will be released only after we feel reasonably sure that you do not pose a danger to yourself or others. Is that clear?”

“So, in other words, even if I resigned from the agency today, I’d still have to stay here as long as you say I do.”

“That is correct.”

“I’m all right with that.”

Dr. Gilbreth raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Minus one.

She corrected herself. “What I mean to say is that although I trust your judgment, I want to get out of here as soon as possible so I can get on with my life. The time I spend here playing cards and watching game shows all day is just a waste of time. There’s so much more I could be doing.”

“I can understand your sentiment.” A moment of silence passed between them before he spoke again. “Do you have any other questions for me today?”

“Nothing comes to mind right now.”

“All right.” He leaned forward on his desk. “There is a matter I would like to speak to you about. I got a call a few days ago from your sister.”

“My sister? Which one? I have three.” Plus one.

“Her name was Hope, I believe.”

“I don’t have a sister named ‘Hope.’ Their names are Joy, Faith, and Felicity.” Plus one.

“Pardon me. Yes, you’re right—it was Faith. She somehow found out you were here.”

He paused. She knew he was gauging her reaction carefully.

“And?”

“How would you feel if she visited you here? Would you be willing to accept a visit from her?”

“You mean, Faith would come here?”

“Yes. Maybe on Friday. That was her suggestion.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Good. I’ll phone her back and let her know.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced at the clock on his computer monitor. “Listen, we need to cut it short today. Some state inspectors are visiting the hospital this afternoon, and I have to make some preparations. Maybe we’ll talk later in the week.”

“Okay. I look forward to that.”

He picked up the pen on his desk in preparation to write something into her file.

“That’s all. You can go back to the ward now.”

She stood up and walked over to the door. Just as she reached for the handle, she heard Dr. Gilbreth call to her from his desk.

“Oh, Alyndia—one more thing before you go.”

Alyndia froze at the door with her hand on the handle, startled and unnerved at hearing him call her by her true name. Was he merely mistaken when he said that? Was he testing her? She wondered how she should react for a few seconds before she turned to him.

“Excuse me, Dr. Gilbreth, my name is Connie—not Alyndia,” she said. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me that again.”

From his expression, she knew that she had answered correctly. Plus one.

“Of course, Connie. I’ve decided to reduce the dosage of the medications you’ve been taking. Please tell the head nurse in the ward I’ll be sending her the changes a little later today. I’d like to start you on the new dosages this evening.”

Alyndia smiled. “I’ll do that.”

The orderly in the corridor escorted Alyndia back toward the common areas where lunch would be served soon. Alyndia hummed softly to herself as they passed the doors of the other doctors in the psychiatric ward. Faith’s visit would be a welcome break from the routine of the ward, which she’d already endured for a few weeks. The only thing that could be better would be a visit from Gerald, although she knew that could not occur while she was there. Her thoughts drifted back to their last meeting and when they kissed. But in the midst of her reverie, the warnings he had given her at the time came back to her: “You shouldn’t meddle...getting involved in her past can only complicate things…you don’t know why things are they way they are...it might turn into a can of worms…”

“Don’t worry, Gerald,” she whispered softly as the orderly released her into the rec room. “I can handle this.”