The shadow I saw leaning over me in the mirror this morning had no face.
Tomorrow, I will apologize to Sue, because I have been unreasonable. Maybe Huib wouldn’t have known what to do, but he would have at least taken me into his arms, and today that would have made a difference.
God, I miss him so much!
October 20
It’s getting worse. Had two major attacks. Yesterday afternoon. At home, thank God. I gave myself a prescription for muscle relaxants and Rohypnol, which seem to be helping somewhat (hmm, it comes to me now that Dr. Stein also took Rohypnol). I talked about it with Sue, but I have to be careful what I do and do not say.
I talked to a colleague from Reconstructive Surgery, using a fabricated story about a young athlete whose face got mutilated. I said that I had been told that they had treated a mountaineer with similar injuries and that I wanted to get in touch with him, in order to observe the long-term effects of his disfigurement on his functioning. Most hospitals have a culture of sticking together. In other words, special favors, pulling strings, is not uncommon. The doctor remembered the patient and offered to get in touch with him about my request. I don’t expect it to lead to much, but more importantly: he had let his name slip.
Edgar’s real name is Nick Grevers.
October 31
Keeping this short, because I have to pick up the kids from school. No more attacks, twelve days now, and I have to keep pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming!
I decided to leave it be. Yesterday Sue and I had a long talk on the phone, and I asked her to do the same. I have been obsessed with my delusions for a while, but I’m seeing things more clearly now.
Talking about obsession. If Nick Grevers found out how much information I have managed to gather about him, he’d accuse me of being a stalker! I know he writes for Lonely Planet. Amusing, crisp pieces. I know he has a boyfriend from New York, whose name is Sam Avery. I will be honest—I completely sifted through both their Instagram profiles. They’re both your typical fun and good-looking kind of guys. What sticks most in my mind is a selfie they took last year at a Shania Twain concert in London. Arms around each other’s shoulders, beer in hand, Nick with a hat on, which Shania has apparently thrown into the audience. It’s such a happy photo. It’s tragic that the accident has put an end to all of that so drastically.
There is something ominous about the last post on Grevers’s profile. It shows him and his climbing partner with big smiles hiding behind their mirrored sunglasses on a high, glaciated summit in the Alps. He tagged it #livingthelife. Nothing after that. A couple of days later his climbing partner was dead, Grevers was mutilated, and that was the end of his online happiness. His boyfriend hasn’t posted anything since August either.
It almost feels like I know them, and that means I have let myself become too personally attached. It’s none of my business. I have to pick up the pieces of my own life. Whatever mystery has sent Claire Stein to her death, it’s a mystery of the human psyche. Of human madness.
Worrying myself silly appears to be a habit that is hard to kick, but sometimes you need to flip the switch and start living, right?
Gee, forgot the time. I have to run!
November 1
I could cry!!! Oh, goddamn stupid asshole motherfucker! It’s back and it was much worse than before. The kids are finally asleep, but I keep crying. Afraid I can’t deal with this any longer.
“Falling” not once in their reports. Modern medicine is too pragmatic. No one had seen them fall, after all, but that is exactly what happened. They fell and they fell and they fell till they crashed to the ground.
November 2
Back to my notes. Put the phone on quiet because Sue won’t stop calling and I don’t have the energy to defend myself. She wouldn’t understand. I only just understood it myself! Poor Dr. Stein. It snapped her mind in the end and I believe the same has happened to me.
If it weren’t for the kids, I think I would have already ended my life by now. They keep me going. It’s for their sakes I need to be strong. Just like Julian was at the critical moment. Oh, the way he took care of his little sister! Huib would have been so proud.
They were there. It was my worst nightmare, and it came true. We were having dinner when it happened. I didn’t even have time to get ready or brace myself. It hit me with such force that I must have fallen backwards in my chair and hit the floor. By then I was already out. The only thing I remember was my head was suddenly full of noise, and all the shadows in the room were plunging into me. Then I began to fall. But the children . . .
It must have been awful for them to see their mother like that. Apparently, I had a glass of red wine in my hand when it happened, because I came to surrounded by glass splinters, and the back of my right hand was all gashed because it had been thrashing about in it. Julian and Naomi were cowering in the corner, but even though he was crying himself, Julian had his arms around his sister and was comforting her. Later, he said that he had been so scared that it hadn’t even occurred to him to call 112. But the worst came when I dragged myself toward them, moaning and bleeding, and they shrank back from me. Naomi screamed, “Why did you hurt me, Mommy? Why did you hurt me?”
It’s true. Julian told me. She had run up to me and I had knocked her to the ground, not once but twice, before Julian was able to pull her away from me. It’s awful! Her cheekbone is black and blue, and there’s an enormous bruise on her arm.
Huib and I never hit the children. Never. She must have been terrified!
Naomi gazed at my hand and said, “Mommy, you’re bleeding,” and if that was the case, if Mommy had hurt herself too, then it must have been an accident, then Mommy hadn’t hurt her on purpose. She let me hug her—thank God. I put ice on her cheek and bandaged my hand. I had to use tweezers to remove the glass from my skin. And Julian was so sweet and helpful! Sometimes he seems so grown up, with that worried expression of his. Then I really see Huib behind that small, young face.
Damn it, I’m crying again.
In any case, it took a long time before Naomi had calmed down, but I let her choose a big Disney Band-Aid, and she liked that. It covers the wound on her face, but I’m afraid that her teacher will ask about it on Monday. When I tucked her in, I said, “You can tell Miss Marian that Mommy is sick and that you fell, but don’t tell her Mommy’s hand hit you by accident, okay? She doesn’t need to know that. That’ll be our little secret.”
I’m so ashamed!