*
Jack pushes me into a room and sits beside me. Another person, a woman with black hair, sits behind a desk, puts her hands in her lap, and says, “It’s good to see you, Anna.”
“Thank you,” I say, the first words I’ve said in God knows how long.
Jack turns to face me, slack-jawed. I see betrayal in his eyes. You spoke!
Yeah, I want to say, but I can’t be bothered. I can talk. I’m just not speaking to YOU.
“This is Dr. Li, Anna,” Jack says.
“I know,” I say, even though I didn’t know that.
The woman, Dr. Li, scribbles something on a white square, then looks at me. “I hear you had an accident, Anna. How are you feeling now? Better?”
I nod.
“Good. And your injuries. Your—” She glances down. “—ribs and your ankle … they’re healing okay?”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, so I just say yes. I want to keep talking to this woman. She looks at me and talks right to me.
“She can walk short distances,” Jack says, “hobble from the couch to her chair or stand up in the shower. But the doctor said she’ll spend most of her time in a wheelchair now.”
The woman nods. “Have you been taking your medication, Anna?”
“Every day,” Jack says. “I administer it.”
The woman nods. Then says to me, “And you’re living with Jack now?”
I shake my head. This, I know, is not right. “I’m living at a huge place filled with people that feels like a shopping mall. Jack is there all the time. And I want to go home.”
“Home where?” the woman asks. “To the residential care facility?”
I blink.
“Home where, Anna?” she asks again.
“To my … place.” It is beyond frustrating that I can’t remember where home is. Here I am, being given the opportunity to say what I want, and I can’t fucking remember. “Jack knows.” I jab a thumb at Jack, but I don’t look at him. The sight of him is enough to make me angry.
“Rosalind House,” he mutters. Even his mutter sounds irritated. I get the feeling he is as angry at me as I am at him.
“Rosalind House,” the woman repeats. “Is that home?”
Rosalind House. I wait for a bell to ding or something to happen in my brain to tell me that, yes, Rosalind House is home. Is that home? I wait some more. Still no ding.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Jack says. “I can’t take her back there. Not after what happened.”
The woman takes the square things off her eyes and sighs. “Have you discussed … the other thing?” she asks Jack. “Does she have any memory of it?”
“I have no idea,” Jack says. “As I told you, she hasn’t said a word since she came back to live with us.”
“And the guy, the … father … has she seen him?”
“No. Of course not.”
The woman nods and is quiet for quite some time. Her expression is still—like she’s worried or concentrating. I can’t really tell which. “Can I be frank?”
“I wish you would,” Jack says.
“I tend to share your worries about Anna’s quick regression. She’s had a trauma, so some regression is to be expected, but even to look at, she seems severely depressed. I can’t help but wonder if she’s missing her home. And, perhaps, missing this friend of hers.”
Jack makes a noise and shakes his head.
“You have her best interests in mind, I know that. What happened … all of it … must have given you quite the fright. But … if Anna were my sister … and she seemed happy there … I’d be trying to think of a scenario where I could get her there again.”
“You’re not serious? Take her back to a place where she was impregnated, then tried to kill herself?”
“She doesn’t have a lot of time left, Jack. A year, if that. If that’s where she’ll be happiest, why not?”
“Because it isn’t safe!”
The woman nods. “Obviously her safety is paramount, and you’d need to come to some sort of arrangement with the center to ensure that nothing like that would ever happen again. But, Jack, it’s obviously what she wants.”
He looks at me. “Is this what you want, Anna?”
“Yes,” I say, and this time, it’s not just something I’m going along with. “I want to go home.”
47
Eve