“What sort of papers?”
“Release papers.”
“Couldn’t you sign them yourself?”
“That’s just what I said! They told me someone had to sign for me.”
“Why?”
Annie thinks for a moment. Her eyes actually narrow. The calculating look is there again. I wonder if there are truly voices inside her head. If so, are they now telling her what to say to the doctor?
Is there only one voice?
Watch it, Annie! She’s getting close, she knows you were in the psychiatric wing! Tell her you had a broken leg!
More than one voice?
She’s not handling this properly.
I know, she’s never very good with doctors.
In fact, she’s never very good with anyone.
In fact, she’s utterly worthless.
Auditory hallucinations. One of the Criterion-A symptoms. Either a single voice keeping up a running commentary on the person’s behavior, or two or more voices conversing with each other.
“What happened,” Annie says, “was these two boys tried to pick up my friend and me in this little bar in town.”
Dr. Lang is nodding. No longer smiling. Just nodding. She doesn’t yet know Annie was in a mental hospital, so far all Annie’s told her is that it was a pediatric hospital. Annie is still telling the story she told me on the phone from Italy, the story she again told the gathered family once she was safe again in New York, objecting strenuously whenever any of us asked for clearer details—
“Why are you second-guessing me?” she would shout. “I refuse to be second-guessed!”
In retrospect, I think she meant that we were cross-examining her. I think she meant to say, “I refuse to be cross-examined!” No one is cross-examining her now. Dr. Lang is merely listening.
“Well, we didn’t wish to be picked up, thank you,” Annie says, “and this led to a little argument, and I suppose it got out of hand.”
“How?”
“One of the boys got violent. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the table, grabbed it by the neck, and swung it at me. Spilled red wine all over the white cotton dress I was wearing. So naturally, I fought back. Then Lise and I, that’s this German girl I was traveling with, ran out of the place, and somehow we got separated, and I found myself on this mountain road being followed by banditos — look, it’s a long story, and there’s no point telling it all over again, you’ll only try second-guessing me, anyway, so what’s the use? The point is, I ended up in the hospital because I was raped and robbed and because the police wouldn’t do anything about it. And I’m sure this relates back to having been a victim when I was only eleven, they can sense that about a person, you know, the predators out there. They can smell a victim a hundred yards away. So I played a trick on them — which led them to the wrong conclusion later on, of course — but it worked, it got me in the hospital where at least I was safe till Andy came to get me out.”
She nods in satisfaction, folds her hands in her lap.
“What trick was that?” Dr. Lang asks.
“What?”
“This trick you played.”
Be careful, Annie, she’s closing in.
Annie shrugs.
“You said you played a trick on them...”
She’s about to blow it.
She’s never any good with doctors.
“Can you tell me what the trick was?”
“I told them I’d kill myself,” Annie says.
“Really?” Dr. Lang asks.
“Sure,” Annie says, pleased with herself, smiling now. “Well, they weren’t going to help me unless I took desperate measures.”
“So you said you’d kill yourself if they didn’t help you?”
“It was all I could think of.”
“Did you mean it?”
“Of course not! It was a desperation measure, I just told you.”
“But I can understand how it led them to the wrong conclusion later on, can’t you?”
“Oh, sure. They thought I was nuts.”
“I can see why they might have thought that.”
“But it was just a trick.”
“So how did they treat you? Once you got to the hospital?”
“Very nicely, actually. It was a pediatric hospital. There were women giving birth every...”
“I meant... what treatment did they give you? You said they thought you were nuts...”
“That’s no surprise. My whole family thinks I’m nuts.”
“Is that so?”
“Sure.”
“Why do you suppose that is?”
“I have no idea. Everyone else thinks I’m in amazing mental and physical shape.”
“How old are you, Annie?”
“I’ll be thirty-six in September. Everyone I spend time with thinks I’m extremely happy and intelligent. It’s just my family who keep watching me like a hawk. I burp and they think that’s a sign of mental illness. I was initiated into Tantric yoga quite some time ago, you know. I know my brother doesn’t believe in God...”
A sidelong glance at me.
“... but I do believe in God, and I’m in continual devotional practice which my family somehow interprets as suffering. I’m not suffering. I’m healthy and happy.”
“Then why are you here today?” Dr. Lang asks.
“Tantra is all about understanding yourself. I’m trying to completely digest all the implications and ramifications of what happened to me when I was eleven. I’m trying to free myself from that unpleasant trauma. I don’t think that’s an unreasonable expectation, do you? I mean, it seems absolutely clear to me that if I don’t try to help myself, no one else is going to help me.”
Another sidelong glance at me.
This time, Dr. Lang picks up on it.
“Do you mean your brother?”
“For all I know, he’s part of it.”
“Part of what?”
“Ask him.”
“Well, I’d rather know what you think.”
“He’s never there when I get in trouble. He always manages to be someplace else. Don’t you think that’s odd?”
“I don’t understand. You didn’t expect him to be there in Italy, did you? When those boys...”
“Of course not.”
“Then when did you expect him to be there?”
“I don’t expect him to be there, forget it. I don’t expect him to be anywhere, forget it. In fact, I don’t even know why I’m here.”
“You said you wanted to free yourself from...”
“Yes, well, that was a big mistake, wasn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t like being second-guessed.”
“Second-guessed?”
“Second-guessed, second-guessed. Why do you want to know how I was treated in that hospital, that prison is what it was. They put me in a strait jacket, is how I was treated. They molested me while I was tied to the bed. They gave me a very mild dosage of a tranquilizer called Risperdal. After what happened to me, and the way I must have looked to them, all battered and bruised and bleeding — and remember, I told them I’d kill myself, don’t forget that — I’m not surprised they thought I needed a tranquilizer. Are you familiar with Risperdal?”
“Yes, I am. It’s used to manage psychotic disorders.”
“No, you’re confusing it with Haldol. I had no symptoms of any psychotic disorder in Italy. None at all. I can prove that to you. I was given Risperdal, not Haldol, you ought to check your pharmacology, Doctor. In any case, I was initiated into the practice of Kundalini yoga a long time ago, through the direct transmission of Shaktipat from the guru, and sometimes adepts will exhibit side effects and strange behavior. If my family thinks such behavior is a sign of a serious mental condition, then it’s because they’re misinformed or uneducated or both. I’m here to set the record straight. I refuse to be second-guessed, and I refuse to be the victim of my family’s obsessive attachment to labeling me an ill person. Is that clear?”