Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,11
even though I prepared myself for how big a battle this will be, I’m still deflated.
I don’t say a word.
Silence wraps around us. This is the worst kind of silence too. It eats at me. Dr. Calloway stares at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something.
“If you leave, I want to be confident. I’m not disagreeing with you that you might not belong here anymore, but…”
God. I hate that word. Has any sentence ever had a positive ending that began with but? No. I don’t think so.
“But there’s a lot of work to do before you can reach that goal. If you’re willing to let me help you, I want to.”
“You want me to open up and tell you how I’m feeling?” I ask skeptically. Just saying that out loud leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“No, not that.”
“Then what?”
“It’s nothing bad, Victoria. I know you’re a private person.” She glances at Evelyn, her smile slightly fading. “You love your daughter and want to protect her, but I need you to open up. I need you to trust me.”
She stands up abruptly. With the sun shining in, her shadow dwarfs my own. Instinctively, I flinch. Dr. Calloway doesn’t notice. She goes over to a filing cabinet and pulls out a file. My name is on the side. There are so many papers; it looks close to falling apart. “Is that my file?”
She nods and opens it up. Some papers are paper clipped together. Red tabs run the length of the edges. In the back, tucked into the pocket, is a thick stack of pictures. She only takes a few out and holds them in her hands.
“I want to show you some pictures.”
I try to get a look at them, but Dr. Calloway hides them like we’re playing a game of poker.
“Pictures of what?”
“Yourself. I’ll start off slowly showing you each photo. Once you’ve got a good look at them I’ll speed it up. If any of them are familiar tell me to stop and I will.”
“Who gave those to you?”
Dr. Calloway lowers the pictures. “Your mother. When you checked into Fairfax she gave them to your doctor at the time in hopes that you would remember…something.”
“Why am I just seeing these?”
“Because every time these pictures were brought out, you refused to look at them.”
I refused? I can’t remember, but I don’t doubt her.
“Are you willing to try and look at these pictures?” she asks gently.
When someone wants to retrace their steps, where does one start?
The beginning.
The problem is, I don’t know where my beginning is.
But here it is: my chance to taste life twice through a prism of pictures.
I’d be a fool to say no, but an even bigger fool not to be nervous. This is a quantum leap from my everyday routine and I have no idea where I will land.
Very slowly, I nod my head.
“Excellent,” she says. “It’s time to untangle your past.”
First picture: Wes and me on what looks like our wedding day. We’re walking down the aisle, our hands intertwined. Wes is smiling at me, and I’m beaming with joy. We look like the perfect happy couple. Deeply in love.
Second: my mother and me. We are sitting outside on my mother’s back deck. It’s the same house I grew up in. My mother holds a super-slim cigarette in one hand, a picture in the other. Stacks of photographs are in front of me and drinks are on the patio table. We’re both smiling at the camera.
Third: I’m inside a hospital. I’m dressed in scrubs. An unknown blonde is standing next to me. I’m leaning against a counter, looking exhausted but extremely happy.
True to her words the process speeds up. One after the other, the images appear until I feel like I’m looking at a flipbook. Soon the colors start to bleed together until I don’t know when one picture ends and the next begins.
My head’s starting to spin. I feel like I’m on a roller coaster, seconds away from making a hairpin curve. My stomach drops. I think I’m going to be sick.
“Stop,” I say. The pictures move faster. “I said stop.”
Dr. Calloway stops at the picture of Wes and me, but my mind doesn’t. It’s latched on to all those memories, clinging to them like starving animals. My heart is pounding a mile a minute. I can barely take a deep breath. I feel trapped, as the walls slowly close in on me.
I’m pulled into the memory, getting smaller each second, while the picture