His attention immediately shifted to me. The intensity of his gaze made me feel self-conscious. Finally, after what seemed an interminable pause, he offered me a smile, too, but one just as tentative.
"And this is the young lady?" he asked, coming around his desk.
"Yes. Ruby," Daphne said, smirking as if my name was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard. He nodded, but kept his eyes on me. Remembering Daphne's orders, I didn't speak until he spoke to me directly.
"And how are you today, Mademoiselle Ruby?" he asked. "Fine."
He nodded and turned to Daphne.
"Physically, she is in good health?" he asked. What a strange thing to ask, I thought, knitting my eyebrows together with curiosity.
"Look at her. Does she look like anything's physically wrong with her?" she snapped. She spoke to him as sharply as she would speak to one of our servants, but he didn't seem to mind. He gazed at me again.
"Good. Well, let me begin by showing you around a bit," he said, stepping closer to me and farther away from Daphne. I looked at her, but she kept her gaze fixed ahead. "I'd like you to feel comfortable here," he added. "As comfortable as possible."
His smile widened, but there was still something false about it.
"Thank you," I replied. I didn't know what to say. I knew my father and Daphne made sizeable contributions to the institute, besides paying for Uncle Jean, but it still felt funny being treated like such VIPs.
"I understand you're almost sixteen?" he said.
"Yes, monsieur."
"Please . . . call me Dr. Cheryl. We should be friends, good friends. If that's all right with you," he added.
"Of course, Dr. Cheryl." He nodded.
"Madame?" he said, turning back to Daphne.
"I'll wait right here," she said, without turning around. Why was she behaving so strangely? I wondered.
"Very good, madame. Mademoiselle," he said, indicating a side door to his office. I couldn't help my confusion. "Where are we going?"
"As I said, I would like to show you around first, if that is all right with you, of course."
"Fine," I said, shrugging. I went to the door and he opened it and led me out through another corridor and then up a short stairway. This place was a maze, I thought as we made another turn and took another corridor in a different direction. We continued until we reached a large window and looked in on what was clearly a recreation room. Patients of all ages, from what looked like teenagers to elderly people played cards, board games, and dominoes. Some watched television, and some did some handicrafts like lanyards, needlework, and crocheting. Others were reading magazines. One boy with sweet potato red hair, who looked about seventeen or eighteen, sat staring at everyone and doing nothing. A half-dozen attendants wandered about the room overlooking all the activities, pausing occasionally to say a few words to one of the patients.
"As you see, this is our recreation area. Patients who are able to can come in here during their free time and do almost anything they like. They can even, as young Lyle Black there, sit and do nothing."
"Does my uncle come in here?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, but right now he's waiting in his room for Madame Dumas. He has a very nice room," Dr. Cheryl added. "Right this way," he indicated. We stopped at another door. It was obviously the library.
"We have over two thousand volumes and we get dozens and dozens of magazines," he explained.
"Very nice," I said.
We continued until we came to what looked like a small gymnasium.
"We don't neglect the patient's physical well being. This is our exercise room. Every morning, we conduct calisthenics. Some of our patients are even able to swim in our pool, which is located in the rear of the building. Here," he said, taking a few steps and pointing down the corridor to the right, "are our treatment rooms. We have a dentist on a regular basis, as well as general medicine doctors on call. Why, we even have a beauty parlor here," he said, smiling.
"This way," he indicated, pointing down the opposite corridor.
I wondered about Daphne. It surprised me that she would sit back in his office and remain so patient. She had made it perfectly clear to me how much she hated coming here. I was sure she wanted to get in and get out as fast as she could. Now troubled as well as confused, I followed Dr. Cheryl. I didn't want to appear impolite or unappreciative, but I was eager to see my uncle.
We turned a corner and approached what looked like an entirely new administrative area. A nurse sat behind a desk. Two attendants, both big men in their late twenties at least, stood talking to her. They looked up as we approached.
"Morning, Mrs. McDonald," Dr. Cheryl said. The nurse at the desk looked up. She had a softer face than Mrs. Warren, but looked to be the same age with bluish gray hair cut at the nape of her neck.
"Good morning, Doctor."
"Boys," he said to the attendants. "Everything going all right this morning?" They nodded, their eyes fixed on me.
"Very well, Mrs. McDonald. As you know, Madame Dumas has brought her daughter here. This is Ruby," he said, turning to me.
I stared at him a moment. What did he mean, brought her daughter here? Why didn't he finish that and say, brought her daughter to see her uncle Jean?
"Ruby, Mrs. McDonald runs things down here and sees to everyone's needs. She's the finest head nurse on any psychiatric floor in the country. We're mighty proud to have her on our staff."
"I don't understand," I said. "Where's my uncle?"
"Oh, he's on another floor," Dr. Cheryl said, flashing that tight, small smile. "This floor is more or less for our temporaries. We don't expect you to remain here long."
"What?" I stepped back. "Remain here? What do you mean, remain here?"
Mrs. McDonald and Dr. Cheryl exchanged quick looks. "I thought your mother had explained all of this to you, Ruby," he said.
"Explained? Explained what?"
"You're here for an evaluation, an observation. You didn't agree to it?"
"Are you crazy?" I cried. That brought a smile to the attendants, but Dr. Cheryl straightened up quickly.
"Oh, dear," he said. "I thought this was going to be one of our easier ones."
"I want to go back to my mother," I insisted. I looked back down the corridor, so confused and upset now, I wasn't sure which direction to take.
"Just relax," Dr. Cheryl said, stepping forward.
"Relax? You thought I was coming here to be a patient and you want me to relax?"
"You're not a patient as such," he said, closing and opening his eyes. "You're being evaluated."
"For what?"
"Why don't we just settle you in your room first and then we'll have a talk. If there is nothing to do, why you'll go right home," he said with that small smile again.
"There is nothing to do." I backed away. "I want to go to my mother. Right now. I came here to see my uncle. That's why I came."
Dr. Cheryl looked at Mrs. McDonald and she rose.
"You'll only make things harder for yourself if you become uncooperative, Ruby," she said, coming around her desk. The two attendants moved to follow. I continued to back away, shaking my head.
"This is a mistake. Take me back."
"Just relax," Dr. Cheryl said.
"No. I don't want to relax."
The attendant on my right moved quickly to block my retreat. He didn't touch me, but he stood behind me, intimidating me with his presence. I started to cry.
"Please," I said. "I want to go to my mother. This is a mistake. Just take me back."
"In due time, I promise to do just that," Dr. Cheryl said. "Can we show you your room? Once you see how comfortable it is . . ."
"No. I don't want to see any room."
I spun around and tried to get past the attendant, but he seized my arm and held me so tightly at the wrist, it hurt. I screamed and Mrs. McDonald moved in, too.