Chapter 28 Lord Edward
I clench my jaw as Dr. Rush continues his lecture: the danger of walking alone in the dark, in the cold. What if I’d slipped? What if I’d fallen? What was I thinking?
Fortunately, he assumes I was alone.
Dr. Rush pauses between sentences as if he expects me to argue, but I won’t.
It would only prolong this interaction, and all I want is for my doctor to go away so I can take a pill from my sock drawer.
I decide that I won’t swallow it whole; tonight, I’ll chew it up, crunching it between my teeth like candy.
I can already taste the bitter chalk of it in the back of my throat.
I just need Dr. Rush to get the fuck on with it.
Tell me he’s phoning Anne, they’re extending my stay, I can never leave.
(What will I do when I run out of pills?
That’s tomorrow’s problem; tonight I need only one.)
“I’m sorry,” I offer when Dr. Rush’s silence makes it clear he won’t speak again until I respond. I didn’t even apologize when I set fire to my school. “I needed some air.”
The doctor’s face softens. I’ve said something right even if I don’t know exactly what.
“I understand,” he says. “And if that’s what you need, I want to help you have it.
All you have to do is push that button”—he gestures to the bedside table—“and I’ll be here.
But you have to understand why we can’t have you out there by yourself.
” He says it like we’re on the mean streets of some nameless, dangerous city rather than one of the most exclusive hamlets in the world.
“Understood.” I’m gritting my teeth so hard that I can barely get the word out.
“If anything happened to you—” Dr. Rush pauses, and the words he doesn’t say hang between us.
If anything happened to you, I could get into so much trouble; if anything happened to you, the center could be liable; if anything happened to you, there might be a lawsuit; if anything happened to you, the press might find out you’d been here in the first place.
If anything happened to you, there would be such a mess to tidy up.
I apologize again.
“I appreciate that.” There’s a hint of finality in Dr. Rush’s voice, and I think the lecture is over, that we’ll resume therapy in the morning and put this awful business behind us. Instead, he says, “I’m afraid that starting tomorrow, I’ll be securing the terrace door from the outside.”
It takes me a beat to realize what he means by securing. “You’re locking me in my room?”
“Of course not,” Dr. Rush says. “The door from your room to the rest of the house will be unlocked, and you’re welcome to move about the cottage freely.
But every exterior door will be secured so that you can’t go outside alone.
If you find you need some air again, simply press the button, and I’ll be happy to venture outdoors with you. ”
Most buildings aren’t equipped with locks that trap their inhabitants within. This cottage was designed to be a cage.
“This is bullshit.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I assure you it’s for your own safety.”
“Like hell. It’s for your safety.” I pause.
“You don’t have to worry about getting sued.
My family won’t want that kind of publicity.
” I try to sound authoritative, like Anne talking to Harper’s family.
She made her suggestions sound as though they were for the Steeles’ best interests, not mine, not hers.
“I assure you, my concern isn’t litigious. But since you mention it, I am contractually obligated to manage your care while you’re here.”
“I’m fully aware that you’re being paid.”
Dr. Rush ignores the venom in my words. When he speaks, he sounds as professorial as ever. I thought people who did this kind of work were supposed to be grizzled old addicts themselves, not so mild mannered that it’s hard to imagine them sipping a glass of wine, let alone falling down drunk.
“Your family trusted me with your care. And perhaps more to the point, Ms. Steele’s family trusted that you would submit to this process.”
And there it is. The man with the elbow patches who proudly showed off the deVOL cabinetry and Sub-Zero refrigerator is making his position clear: One phone call from Dr. Rush and the deal Anne cut with Harper’s parents will be off.
My eyes dart toward the sliding door, searching for something that could shatter it completely.
Perhaps I could toss Dr. Rush himself through the glass.
I picture shards getting caught in his hair, slicing his hands, shredding his tailored sports coat.
Even now, in the middle of the night, he’s wearing the same clothing he wears in the daytime: slacks, button-down, tweed jacket.
It’s a costume, I realize, and for the first time, I notice that the cuffs are frayed.
A bead of sweat drips into my right eye, making it sting.
In my mind, I hear Anne’s voice. What did you expect? Did you really think you would get off scot-free after what you did? If I’d been born into some other family, I’d probably be in prison right now.
When the doctor finally leaves, I hobble to my sock drawer, in so much pain that it’s a marvel I’m still upright.
As I chew, the pill gets caught between my teeth and makes me gag when I swallow. Perhaps it’s a placebo effect, but at once my heart rate slows and the pain dulls, though it certainly doesn’t disappear.
I realize that I’m relieved Dr. Rush locked me in rather than out. Out there, there’s nothing to offer relief.
It only makes me hate him more.