--1--
When Samantha entered Amanda’s office, she walked over to the window so she could see the field. Dr. Blake observed the sad slump in her patient’s shoulders and walked over to her. “It’s getting cold again, Sam. Do you think it’ll snow soon?”
Samantha looked down at the windowsill and saw bright red wrappers of a few pieces of strawberry candy that Amanda had left for her. “Straw -,” Samantha’s voice suddenly choked on the word. She sank to the floor, drew her knees up to her chin, and started to cry.
Amanda was almost mortified as Samantha rocked back and forth, not knowing how to handle the situation. The pot, paints, and book were on her desk and as much as she wanted to give them to the sobbing girl, she didn’t think it would help mollify the situation. Instead, she looked out the window and started to talk about the vegetables they were going to plant when it was warm enough as she ran through her memory of Dr. Thompson’s notes. She understood when he was explaining about leaving and she had counted his days down with him. “What would you like to help take care of Sam?”
Samantha stopped rocking and crying when Dr. Blake started talking. She felt safe in Amanda’s presence, like with Dr. Thompson. A tentative hand crept up to the windowsill and felt around as if expecting to be hit. Her hand closed over one of the pieces and she brought it down so she could unwrap it, then popped it in her mouth. “Strawberries.”
Amanda held her hand out and asked Sam for the wrapper. “Would you like to hear a book about growing strawberries?”
Samantha got up as Dr. Blake beckoned her to come over to her desk. Her eyes flicked quickly to the corner and did not see the rod. “Book?”
“Yes,” Amanda said holding it up so she could see the cover of two smiling kids looking busy over a strawberry pot which looked similar to the one she had on her desk. “I was thinking I could read this while you paint your pot.”
The project suddenly seemed complicated. Amanda did not know if Samantha knew how to paint, let alone use a brush since such activities were almost nonexistent. She sank in her chair as a new understanding became clear. She would have to look at the budget and see what she could do to get some art supplies. Since she was working with David, she made a note to ask him about it when she saw him next.
Samantha sat down and picked up one of the three brushes after she put down the candies. A cup of water was placed by the paints along with a couple of paper towels so she could wipe the brush off. She put it down and opened the small purple container. “Read.”
Amanda was halfway through the book for the third time when Samantha finished. She put down the brush. The newspaper she had thought to cover her desk with looked like it had as much paint on it as the strawberry pot. The expression on her face was curious as she studied Samantha’s splash dash artistry which held no rhyme or reason, yet still had a lot of character and color. It reminded her of one of the paintings she saw at an exhibit in the library when she and Daniel studied together. “This is cool,” she said unaware she had let go of her professional demeanor. Recovering, she looked at the leftover paint and brushes and decided to throw the remains away. It also made her aware that if the patients did start doing crafts, it would be with the understanding that materials would be a one-time use. “Now, let’s see what this looks like on the windowsill.”
Samantha found a spot she liked and put the pot down while Dr. Blake cleaned up her desk. She turned it until she was facing a red splotch with a few green dots around it. “OK, Sam. Let’s go get some dirt to put in your part.”
Her words were slow, almost stinted. “I...can…dig…”
Dr. Blake nodded and hid her surprise. “Just a little bit. We’ll use the trowels and fill a bucket so you can grow strawberries in the office.”
Samantha’s ghoulish features lit up, causing Amanda to feel a pang she was unfamiliar with and couldn’t identify outside of the fleeting ones she got when she and Daniel shared their bodies.
After they planted the strawberry, Dr. Blake showed her a small, plain calendar and explained that she would have to water it on the days with the red dot. She handed Samantha a chunky blue crayon. “I would like to see you make an X on this day,” she said resting her finger on the 1. Samantha marked the days off the calendar with relative ease until she reached the 29th and Amanda asked her to stop. She nodded her approval and took Samantha back to her room where they found a safe place to keep the calendar and crayon. When Dr. Blake felt certain Samantha understood, she took her to the cafeteria and then went to find Nurse Horscham.
“Pamela,” she said. “I’d like you to come with me.”
Nurse Horscham sighed, capped the pen she was currently using, and dropped it on the desk. She wanted to hit Chris, the orderly who was Dr. Wilson’s favorite when he commented on her being Dr. Blake's favorite. Although the remark bothered her, Nurse Horscham did wonder if there was any truth in it since she was fast becoming the person she talked to the most outside of Samantha.
She followed Dr. Blake to Amanda’s room where she was shown a calendar marked off by shaky Xs and a blue crayon. The medical director seemed hesitant as if she were rethinking what she wanted to tell her. “I’m doing something with Samantha and she needs to keep track of days. I would like to think she understands. Would you make sure she is crossing them off? I don’t want her told about it. Just let me know if she has missed two days. Confiscate the crayon if it becomes a problem. Understand?”
Pamela nodded and coughed in her hand to cover her laughter over the thought of the walls being colored on or the patients fighting over it. “Yes, Dr. Blake.”
“Thank you.” Amanda looked at her watch and missed the near dropping of Pamela’s jaw when she was thanked. “I’ll be leaving in a half-hour, if I think of anything else, I’ll let you know.”
“Yes, Dr. Blake.”
Pamela stood back as Dr. Blake breezed past her and went back to her office. “You look stunned,” Chris said as she got back to the nurses’ station. “Did you see a ghost?”
“More like an exorcism.”
--2--
Amanda heard evil laughter coming from the bathroom and shook her head. She still didn’t see the point in passing out candy, yet had agreed because even though Daniel wanted her to catch the Halloween spirit and dress up, her costume would be practical. “You may enjoy yourself,” Daniel said as he left the bedroom to put on his makeup. She sighed and put on gray slacks and a plain black, button-down shirt, and lab coat. She pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and secured it with bobby pins at the base of her skull while the length ran down her neck and was hidden underneath the lab coat.
Daniel eyed her critically when he came back from the bathroom, looking like a fair rendition of what was described in the book. Amanda almost smiled as he fixed her collar to make her hair look shorter. She tucked a pair of reading glasses in the breast pocket on her shirt. “What are you thinking?”
“That if you enjoy yourself, maybe next year you can be a mad scientist and I’ll be Igor.”
Amanda blanched. Daniel was already thinking of next year when all she wanted to do was get through tonight. He kissed the tip of her nose and looked at his watch. “They’ll be here soon. You ready?”
She nodded and followed him out the door.
Even though she wasn’t keen on interacting with the little devils and princesses that showed up on her doorstep, Amanda found herself able to relax. It wasn’t like a party, where she felt the need to fade into the woodwork with a bottle of scotch to get her through the evening. The night air was sharp and excited laughter plumed from the mouths of the young approaching their house with bags open in expectation. “Trick or treat!"
As the night wore on, Amanda commented on some of the more unusual costumes that were favored by those over the age of ten. The other surprise was the looks on the neighbors’ faces when they saw Amanda holding a wicker basket of candy which Daniel was busy dropping into opened bags. He was wonderful that evening in intercepting barbs directed towards his wife and throwing them back with flare. As the sidewalks became empty, she looked down at the almost empty basket and said, “Thank you.”
“Of course, Mand.”
“I don’t understand why they can’t just leave me alone.”
Daniel was taken aback by the note of sadness in her voice. She sounded small and alone. If she could disappear and hide under a rock so as not to be found, she would. “Amanda, you’re not an easy person to understand. A lot of people would not be happy to spend the rest of their life reading and discussing books like you.”
He stepped aside so she could enter the house. She paused for a moment and looked at her husband. “So, mad scientist and Igor next year?”
He smiled and hoped he would have enough time to talk her into wearing a disheveled wig of white hair even though her red locks would be the better way to go. He turned off the porch light, followed her inside, and locked the door before retiring to the living room.
Amanda opened the bottle of Amaretto she picked up when she had gotten a small basket of strawberries for Samantha’s project. The rest were now in the refrigerator and made her wonder if she should use the rest to make strawberry jam with her. She mulled the thought over with Daniel who was leaning back in his chair and enjoying the slide of the smooth almond texture down his throat. “I wonder what it is about strawberries.”
Amanda paused. It was a good question. “I don’t know Daniel. She cried when she saw the candy on the windowsill. I imagine it has to do with a good time in her life. It would be nice if I could find some history.”
“Have you asked about medical records?”
Amanda shook her head. “I’m not even sure if Collins is even her last name. When she was admitted three years ago, she had no identification. Eventually, Dr. Thompson got what I hope is a birthday for her, but I don’t know. He had even circulated her picture to medical facilities in surrounding cities and no one knows who she is. It’s as if she just popped up from nowhere.”
Daniel watched as she took a swallow of her Amaretto. “Are all the patients like that?”
Amanda shook her head. “She’s in the minority. She spoke three words together a couple of days ago.”
“Do you think she’ll eventually be able to hold a conversation?”
“The prognosis is poor, so I would say, ‘No.’ I’m just trying to see if she is comfortable and not overstimulated.”
“Do you think that is what Dr. Thompson was doing by offering her sandwiches?”
Amanda chewed her lip and gave it some thought. Daniel refilled their glasses and watched as she scratched the side of her neck. “I think he learned she liked strawberry jam sandwiches and left it at that.”
“How can you be so sure? Didn’t he also put away his rod during their sessions? How long did they last?”
Amanda shrugged feeling frustrated. They were questions she found she was asking herself more and more. She also wondered what else Dr. Thompson had tried if anything, and if he did, wouldn’t he have written it down in her chart? A sudden chill caused her to shudder as she wondered if Dr. Wilson had tampered with the notes like he did with the medication list and removed them from the chart.
Daniel studied her. “Amanda, are you alright?”
“I’m beginning to wonder if Nathan took things out of her chart that may have contradicted his sessions.
“Can you prove it?”
She shook her head. “About as much as I can about him altering the medication list.”
Suddenly she was very tired. Daniel helped her up and felt her sag in his arms. He couldn’t ever remember her feeling as weak or vulnerable at that moment and was beginning to wonder if she was right and being the medical director at Sanford was proving to be too much for her. He could almost see her being pulled in different ways which were bringing about changes in her that surprised him. Through Samantha, she was learning how to associate with people and it was beginning to show more in how she treated him. “It’s OK, Mand,” he said stroking her hair. Her forehead pressed against his cheek, smearing his face paint. He pulled her back and smiled at the black spot near her hairline. “You have some makeup on your forehead. It’s not the same as your ink-smeared cheek, but I guess it’ll do.”
Amanda rested in the crook of his arm as he led her out of the living room and up the stairs. She went to the bathroom first and wiped off the makeup then unfastened her hair. After she pulled out the tie, she massaged the back of her neck and contemplated using some of the Bengay Daniel kept under the sink to ease the tightened muscles.
Daniel came up behind her as she was unscrewing the cap and took it from her. “Where?”
“Back of the neck.”
His hands felt good against her skin as she held up her hair while he massaged it in. “Better?”
“Yes, Daniel. Thank you.”
She left the bathroom and got into bed unaware of how tired she was. Her eyes closed almost as soon as her head hit the pillow and she fell asleep. Daniel laid down next to her and put his arms around her. He listened to the lull of her breathing and anticipated the soft snores that would soon follow. The small memo book he had hidden in his bottom nightstand drawer made him smile. Even when she was sleeping, her thoughts were not and it made for some interesting conversations. She talked in her sleep fairly regularly so he would ask her questions and write down her responses if they were good enough. When it was finished, he planned on giving it to her on Valentine’s Day. He closed his eyes and continued to listen to the rhythm of Amanda’s breathing until he fell asleep.
