On Isabella Street

Chapter Fifteen Marion

fifteen MARION

Marion burst through the front door of 105 Isabella, careful not to skid on the slippery tiles with her wet shoes. Catching her breath, she untied the little plastic strap of her rain hood and slipped it off, letting rainwater cascade onto the lobby floor. The elevator came right away, but just as the door was closing behind her, someone called out.

“Hold the door, please!”

An arm shot between the elevator door and the wall, and Marion put her hand out to hold it open. A girl dashed inside, carrying a glistening guitar case dotted with pink and orange flower stickers. Marion tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help wondering if it was her neighbour. How convenient that would be. She had been hoping to introduce herself sometime. It was hard to tell for sure, though, because the girl’s hair was soaked, falling in long tendrils over her face and down her wet sweater. It made her look very young.

“Thanks a lot.” She set the guitar case down and gathered her hair in one hand, then she used both to wring it out. “That storm is unreal!”

She glanced at Marion, and recognition dawned for them both. “Hey, aren’t you the woman who helped me out at the grocery store the other day? That was outta sight, what you did.” She scrambled for her purse. “Here, let me—”

She was young, she saw, probably about ten years younger than Marion. The corners of her eyes creased into half-moons, but not before Marion noted her wide black pupils. Speed? Marijuana? She sniffed. Marijuana.

Marion held out a hand. “No need. You’re going up to five, right?” she asked, pleased that she knew.

“Far out! How’d you know?”

The elevator bumped then began its slow, humming ascent.

“Actually, I live right beside you. I’ve heard you practicing. I even heard you play at Chez Monique one night. You were great.”

“Far out! I’m Sassy. I’m in—”

“Five thirteen,” Marion finished with a smile. “I’m Marion. Five twelve.”

“Groovy. I can’t believe you heard me that night. That’s wicked. Did you have a good time?”

“I did. I hadn’t ever been—”

All at once there was a thump, and the lights went out. The elevator jerked to a stop, and the tiny space was suddenly pitch-black.

“Oh no,” Sassy wailed.

“It’s the storm,” Marion said, disappointed. She enjoyed storms, but not from inside a box. “I wonder for how long.”

“They’ll come for us, right? I mean, they know we’re here?”

“Of course. But it’s a pretty big storm,” she murmured. “Might be a while.”

Sassy’s voice was small. “Bummer. I don’t like dark places. Especially small ones hanging in elevator shafts. I’m kind of claustrophobic.”

“The electricity could come back on at any moment. Let’s not worry.”

“I can’t even see you,” Sassy said.

“Our eyes will adjust,” Marion assured her.

There was a pause, then Sassy asked, “Hey, did you see the movie Psycho ?”

“No!” Marion cried, aghast. “I don’t think we should discuss scary movies right now, do you?”

“Cool.”

After a while, Marion heard Sassy slide down the wall of the elevator and sit. It seemed like a good idea, since they didn’t appear to be going anywhere for a while. She unbuttoned her raincoat then sat on the floor as well, feeling the hard edge of the guitar case beside her and Sassy’s foot jiggling with nerves.

“We’re safe in here,” she told the girl, closing her eyes.

“Are we, though? I mean, yeah. Okay. If we don’t run out of air or the cable doesn’t bust and drop us.”

“Neither one of those is going to happen.” But now Marion was going to think about it.

“Okay. It’s a downer, though. I’ve had the worst twenty-four hours. It would have been cool to have something go right. I’d die for a smoke right now. Oh wait.” She fumbled in the dark, and Marion heard the latch on the guitar case click. One of the instrument’s strings hummed when it was touched accidentally. “There you are, my little darlings. I think a Mother’s Little Helper might be just right for this situation. Want one?”

“I’m sorry?” Marion asked.

“Mother’s Little Helper. From that song. Mick Jagger, you know? Mother needs something to calm her down?” She stopped when Marion didn’t say anything. “No? It’s V. Valium. Want one?”

“Oh, diazepam,” Marion answered quickly. “Uh, no thanks.”

“You sure? You might like it.”

For a split second, Marion considered the idea. “No thanks. Not my thing.”

“I dig it. Whatever floats your boat.” A quiet minute passed, then Sassy sighed. “So lame that I’m freaking out. I’m just real uncomfortable in small places.”

“Maybe you could sing,” Marion suggested. “Distract us.”

“Far out.” The guitar thumped as it was taken from its case. “It’s a little tight in here, but I’ll try. How about ‘Sunny Afternoon’? You know the Kinks?” She plucked the opening descending notes then began to sing.

She had a pretty voice. Light and expressive. There was nothing wrong with the Kinks, but Marion preferred the way the song sounded when Sassy sang it.

“Do you know ‘Bus Stop’? Seems boss for today,” Sassy said, then she plucked the opening notes, putting Marion in the mood. “Bus stop, wet day, she’s there, I say.”

She seemed more confident now. Maybe it was the Valium, or maybe it was the music.

Marion breathed slowly through her nose, smelling damp polyester and musty carpet, and she let Sassy’s music bring colour to the darkness. She’d heard all the songs before, but she’d never really listened. And didn’t the kids say that it was “all about the lyrics, man, all about the lyrics”? Marion thought she was starting to understand.

“What a romantic song,” she said at the end.

“Yeah. True love. My mom and dad had that.”

Past tense? “That’s wonderful that you were raised that way.”

“I wasn’t really. My mom died when I was six. But I know they had it, because my dad never even looked at another woman after. Cool fact: the Beatles just put out a song about her.”

“Your mom?”

“?‘Lovely Rita.’?” Her voice was wistful. “That was her name.”

“I don’t know that one.”

“It’s from the new record, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band . It goes like this.”

Eventually, Sassy laid the guitar back into its case, and Marion opened her eyes. Her vision had adjusted just enough that she could see Sassy’s shape across from her.

“Thanks for the music. It was a nice way to pass the time.”

“But we’re still here,” Sassy groaned. “Oh! I just remembered. I have Cheezies. Want some?”

Marion couldn’t stand the things. “No thanks. I have Tic Tacs, if you’d like.”

“Mm. That sounds perfect,” Sassy replied.

Marion reached across the darkness for Sassy’s open hand, then she tapped some mints into it. “We should do something to distract ourselves.”

“I’m in. Got any ideas?”

“How about Twenty Questions? I’ll ask you something, then I have to answer the same question. Then you ask me a different question, and you have to answer it as well. You have to be honest in your answers. Get it?”

“Right on,” Sassy replied. “Lay it on me.”

“I’ll go first,” Marion said, thinking. “What was your favourite subject in school?”

“That’s easy,” Sassy said. “Music. Oh, and English. Poetry. I love poetry. ‘Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and sorry I could not travel both…’?”

“Robert Frost,” Marion said. “Beautiful.”

“I wish I could think up lyrics like they thought up poems.”

“You’ll figure it out when the time is right,” Marion said. “Mine was science. I loved science. And math.”

“We would have been at opposite wings of the school. Never would have met.”

“You’re probably right. Okay. You ask me something.”

“Like your favourite colour or something?”

“If that’s what you want to know. It’s more interesting if you ask a question that needs more than one word to answer.”

“I get it.” She hesitated. “What is the scariest thing that happened to you when you were little?”

That was an interesting first question, Marion thought, automatically shifting to her psychiatrist role. But the rules of the game were that she had to answer first. It took a second to come up with her answer, then it came rushing back.

“I was six. My family and I were visiting a friend’s cottage in Muskoka, and my sister and I borrowed the canoe without asking. We shouldn’t have. We were far too little to be out there on our own. A motorboat went by really fast, and our canoe got caught up in the wake. I must have panicked, because I stood up, and suddenly I was in the water.”

She paused, feeling a familiar tightness in her chest. “Pat tried to pull me out, but neither of us knew how to swim, and she couldn’t reach me from the canoe without falling in herself. It drifted farther and farther away from shore, and all I remember is that when I screamed I kept swallowing lake water.”

“Whoa!”

“Thinking back now, there were lots of adults around, so they pulled me out right away, but it felt like forever at the time—”

“No, man! You can’t think about it from the perspective of now. We’re talking about when we were kids. That’s some heavy stuff, Marion.”

“I’ve never swum since.”

“Unreal. Good thing there were folks around.”

“I was very lucky.” She exhaled, surprised by how that memory still made her heart race. “Your turn.”

At first, Sassy didn’t answer. When she did, there was a colder tone to her voice. “I think I was, like, seven. My dad had taken Joey to a baseball game. Joey’s my brother, by the way. I was home with my nanny, and she was super pregnant. We were playing hide-and-seek, and she was ‘it’. I hid in my dad’s closet under all his coats and sweaters.” She paused. “I can still smell that wool. Anyway, she couldn’t find me for what felt like a real long time, and then she shouted that she had to leave. Thinking back now, I know it was because she went into labour with her son, but back then I didn’t know where she’d gone. At first I was ticked off, because she wasn’t trying to find me. But then I couldn’t get out of the closet. I can’t remember if it was locked or just stuck, but I was little, and I couldn’t open the door. I banged on it and yelled until I lost my voice, but no one came. You know how kids have no understanding of time passing? It felt like my dad was gone forever.” Her breath sounded shaky. “Yeah. That’s my scariest moment.”

“But he came home eventually,” Marion reminded her gently.

“My little brother, Joey. He found me.”

“Sassy, do you understand that your childhood memory led to your claustrophobia?”

“Uh… huh. I guess you’re right. Never thought about that before.”

“I have a little trick for you to try. It won’t work all at once, but I think it might help over time. When you feel scared like that, like you might be right now, I want you to force yourself to remember the moment that your brother opened the door. It must have felt so good, seeing him and breathing in that fresh air.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can you try that?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Think of the elevator door as the closet door in your memory. Now imagine that moment when he found you, and the relief you felt.”

When Sassy spoke again, her voice was a little calmer. “Far out. How did you know that?”

“I’m a psychiatrist. It’s my job to know things like that.”

“A lady shrink! That’s outta sight.” Sassy chuckled. “When I’m feeling looney, I’ll come see you.”

“Actually, we don’t say ‘looney’ or ‘lunatic’ anymore,” Marion said. “Technically, patients can be diagnosed as insane, but we specify the particular illness to avoid a negative connotation.”

When Sassy didn’t respond, Marion continued. “What I mean is that we try not to use stereotypes like ‘looney’ or ‘crazy.’?”

“Cool.”

“Do you want to know where the term lunatic comes from? Hundreds of years ago, it was thought that people behaving abnormally were reacting to the natural changes of the moon, which is luna in Latin. Hence ‘lunacy.’ They said those people fluctuated like the moon, waxing and waning.”

“Far out. You’re wicked smart,” Sassy said. “Know what I think? You should try to swim sometime. I mean, you know how to get rid of the fear. You should use it on yourself.”

That stopped her. Marion wasn’t used to intelligent suggestions that used her own words against her. Sassy was right, of course, but the idea scared her too much to consider.

“Maybe. I don’t really like water anymore, though, and I never took any lessons. I’m all right without.”

“That’s a lousy excuse.”

Marion felt her cheeks warm, but it didn’t matter. Sassy couldn’t see it in the dark. “Want more Tic Tacs?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” Marion said. “After that last question, I want to know what you’re afraid of now.”

The moment the words were out, she regretted them. Why would she ask a question when she didn’t want to admit the answer?

Sassy exhaled. “Honestly, sitting in the dark in this elevator is top of the list right now. Even with your advice. Other than that, losing Joey’s my biggest fear. He’s uh, well, he’s fighting in Vietnam, and no, I don’t want to talk about that. I just hate not knowing where he is or if he’s safe, and I’m constantly afraid that I’m going to hear bad news someday. Also, I’m afraid of disappointing my dad. He wants me to be this successful businesswoman, but that’s not me. I’m a child of the sun, you know? I belong outside, celebrating Mother Nature and freedom and flowers and sky… Right? Not rotting at a desk.”

“But in life—”

“Being a flower child doesn’t pay the rent. I get it. But that’s where I’m at. Maybe in time. But those two things are kind of like, tied, I guess. I am afraid of losing Joey and disappointing my dad. What about you?”

Marion hesitated, embarrassed. She’d never admitted her greatest fear out loud. But here they sat in the dark, two strangers with completely different stories. And it was her turn to answer. The rule said she had to be honest. She knew the power of conversation, and she hoped she had helped Sassy a little. Maybe speaking her own concern out loud would help her as well.

Lately, Marion’s thoughts kept returning to Paul’s suggestion last night, that she was missing out on life. And that somehow led to thinking about Daniel, a man who had barely survived the worst, but craved more.

She took a moment to get her thoughts in order. She knew it was paradoxical, since her work was all about getting her patients to talk about themselves and their feelings, but Marion never discussed herself that way. The silent elevator, the inability to escape, and the anonymous darkness crowded in on her, reminded her that it was her turn.

What harm could it do?

“I always wanted to be a doctor, and I put everything I had into making that happen,” she said, starting slowly. “But I’m thirty-one. Sometimes I wonder, What else have I done with my life?”

“Probably saved a lot of lives,” Sassy put in helpfully.

“I hope so. But what about my life outside of work? I never used to envy my sister and what I considered to be a predictable life, but recently I’ve wondered. Pat has a husband, kids, and a beautiful house. I have a one-bedroom apartment and a cat.”

“What’s his name?”

“Who, the cat? Chester.”

“Chester. I want to meet him. Sorry. Go on.”

Marion sighed. “I’ve never travelled, I’ve never gotten drunk, I’ve never done a lot of things.”

“You got an old man?” Sassy asked.

Marion scoffed. “We’re not talking about that.”

“But do you?”

“No. I, well…” She stopped. “See, maybe that’s what I’m talking about. I could, but I haven’t made time. I think more about work than the future. Now that I think about it, my biggest fear is missing out.”

“Sounds like we need to set you up.”

An unexpected blush rose, and she recalled the gentleness in Daniel’s scarred face, the trust he openly sought and cautiously gave.

“I don’t think having a boyfriend’s the answer.”

“No, but it’s a cool start.”

They sat in silence, then Sassy spoke up again. “It’s okay, man. We feel what we feel because we are sentient beings, and we shouldn’t apologize. If you feel that way, then it’s real. I guess the next question is, what are you gonna do about it?”

Marion opened her mouth to speak, then she snapped it shut when the elevator lights suddenly went on. She covered her eyes against the unexpected brightness, and Sassy squeaked with relief. They got to their feet as the elevator rumbled back to life, and Marion stared at the floor, wishing the power would shut off again. She had said too much to this stranger. She wasn’t sure how to even look at her now.

Sassy noticed. “That was pretty heavy. You okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” The door rattled open at the fifth floor, and the two faced each other in the hall. “Home sweet home at last.”

The mysterious door across from the elevators clicked open and closed. The women exchanged a glance.

“What’s he looking for, do you suppose?”

Marion felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. “Maybe he’s just lonely.”

“Maybe. You know, Marion, it’s okay if you’re square. Lots of people are. It’s fine. We’re all different.”

Square. Exact edges and straight lines. Yes, that described her perfectly, which only added to her frustration. “Thank you, Sassy. It was nice getting to know you. I’m kind of glad we got stuck in there together.”

“Hey, do you wanna come hang in my place and have some wine? It’s just me. You might have seen Davey before, but now it’s just me.”

“Davey? Is that your ‘old man’?”

“Nah.” She dropped her gaze. “He’s a gas, but he has somebody else now.”

“I’m sorry. Is that a bad thing?”

“It’s whatever. We believe in free love, you know? Nobody can tell us what’s right or wrong or good or bad.”

“I see.” But there was pain behind Sassy’s words. Marion heard it.

Sassy laughed. “I can see that you don’t. Come on. Have some wine with me. I could really use the company.”

A flurry of butterflies beat in Marion’s chest at the thought. She was tired, she was melancholy, and she had her defences down. Sassy was so young. Marion wasn’t sure she was up for that kind of energy.

“I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

Both of them turned, hearing raised voices come from behind the next door.

“The Romanos,” Marion commented, walking past. “Too much basil in the sauce, probably.”

“They make great food,” Sassy said, stopping at the end. “Here’s me. You sure you don’t want to come in?”

Marion thought about Chester, waiting by his bowl for her. Of her quiet apartment and the thunderstorm she could watch through her window, if it was still happening.

“Oh, I don’t think so. It’s been a long day.”

Sassy flung her door open, giving Marion a peek at her living room. “Come on. Live a little. Stay and have a glass of wine with me. We can just hang out.”

A flash of bright-coloured furniture and intriguing art on Sassy’s walls caught Marion’s attention. She spotted a yellow beanbag chair in the familiar, yet very different living room. Vivid blue and green stripes made up the rug in the centre, and yet somehow, the cherry-red couch fit in. She was amazed by how the two identical apartments could be so distinct from each other. The only thing she recognized was a pot of bright orange, soaking-wet calendula flowers on the balcony.

Sassy and Paul were right. Marion needed to live a little. Her resistance crumbled.

“I’d love some wine,” she decided.

She stayed an hour, unexpectedly comfortable on Sassy’s couch. She wasn’t ready for the beanbag yet. Might never be, but that was okay. She was enjoying a simple unwinding evening with a new friend. When was the last time she’d done that, if ever? It felt good. As they sat and talked, with the storm streaming noisily beyond the window, she became aware of the sharp corners in her mind beginning to round. That’s how she liked to think of what happened when she had a little too much wine. Soothed by Sassy’s chatter, she relaxed into it.

On the table, next to a bowl of pretzels, Sassy had a small pile of books. Marion reach for them, then she examined the titles.

“Are you reading all these?”

“I’ve read them, but I leave them out as reminders,” she said. “You have to take them with you when you go.”

“ The Yellow Wallpaper ,” Marion read. “What’s that about?”

“That’s one of my favourites. It’s basically a horror story, only it’s really about a woman’s life and what it feels like to… wait. You actually might love this one. Right up your alley.” She handed the thin book to Marion. “The woman goes crazy because she doesn’t fit into the role of wife and mother, so she’s sent away, but they won’t let her do what she really wants, which is to write, and… Oh, I don’t want to tell you any more in case I spoil it. It’s really short. You can finish it quickly, I’m sure. And I think you’d like this one, too. The Bell Jar . Again, the woman in the book is going insane, and she eventually commits suicide, so it’s pretty scary. What’s really interesting is that Sylvia Plath, the author, committed suicide a month after she finished writing this.”

Marion blinked. “Why are you reading about women who are losing their minds?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of a possible story for all of us, if we leave our lives to others. As women, we need to be courageous and forge our way ahead, not follow someone else’s rules.”

“Huh. And this one?”

“ The Golden Notebook ,” Sassy said, adding the third book to Marion’s stack. “It’s hard to describe. It’s about a girl named Anna, and… it’s… You have to read it.”

“Thank you,” Marion replied. “I haven’t read fiction in so long. I can’t even remember the last book I read for pleasure, not work.” She flipped through a few pages of The Golden Notebook , curious. “I think I’ll read some tonight.”

Sassy’s walls were crowded with art. It was nothing like the dry line art hung around Marion’s apartment, with the sole purpose of camouflaging the bare walls. Her eye was caught by a large painting done in a smooth amalgam of yellows, reds, and pinks, then overlaid by random floating mushrooms, happy faces, and peace signs. It was warm and fresh. She felt like the artist had been happy when he painted it. She stared at it, trying to decide how she felt when she looked at it.

“I really like that one,” she said eventually. “I’ve never seen anything like it. So bright and different.”

“That one? Oh, thank you! I painted that.”

“Really! You paint, too?”

“Used to. I have others in the closet if you want to see.”

Marion checked her watch then put her empty wineglass down, startled by how quickly time had passed. “I’d love to see them sometime, but I have to get home now. Chester will be hungry.”

“I’d love to meet him someday.”

“I’m sure you will.” At the door, Marion lifted her raincoat off the hook. “Thank you, Sassy. I really enjoyed this evening.”

“Oh, me too! Made the whole elevator thing almost fun.”

“Almost,” Marion said with a chuckle, then she pushed back a rush of apprehension and said exactly what was on her mind. “What do you think about doing this again next week, but at my place?”