The Perilous Adventures of Isabel and Moira
- 2 years ago
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"Well, Moira?"
It was a pregnant question, that's for sure. I looked around the table. Gary had asked it, of course. Kate had her usual sourpuss face – she's always worried about things. Joanne was there too, and Henri, though I had no idea why he was with us. Last of all was Jake. He'd understand all of this the best of any of them.
I'd only had two days with her so far, since she'd woken up in my arms. Thank God she was talking. If she'd closed me out, I wouldn't be able to help her at all, I don't think. But it was still very early to say anything. I swallowed before beginning. This was going to be difficult.
"Gary – Saralinda tried to commit suicide, up there on that bridge, and earlier, with the pills. Now the first thing you need to realize is that most people who try to kill themselves are suffering from depression first. That is, depression is the cause. There may be triggering events, but depression is usually a prerequisite. From what I can gather, she's suffered from moderate depression for about the last ten years.
In this case, though, the triggering events are pretty severe, whereas I don't think the depression is. I think the decision was an act of desperation rather than being a death compulsion.
"About those triggers – Gosh, I don't want to say too much. I've been acting kind of like her therapist, you know? I don't feel right telling you things she's told me in confidence. But it's bad. Real bad. Her mother disappeared when she was thirteen. Saralinda has no idea if she's alive or dead, but she feels abandoned by the only person who ever loved her. Her father and stepmother have been abusive and controlling. And there's been violence. Sexual violence, even. Things came to a head the night you found her, but I haven't really gotten her to say all what happened that day.
"She should almost certainly be on antidepressants. I'd have some idea of the nature of her depression by observing how she does on meds. As for the rest, well, it's still way too early to say. I think getting her out of her situation has taken away the danger of suicide, but these things can be unpredictable. She's still very fragile. And this whole rescue thing is still unreal to her. I mean, she was trapped – and I mean that pretty literally – in a Hell of a situation. Gary, at the height of her despair, you snatched her from the one kind of escape that she was able to think of. In its place, you've presented her with an unimaginable, ungraspable, way out. She's in limbo right now – she can't process what's happening."
Having run out of words for the moment, I stopped talking and looked up at Gary. His expression was serious, as he thought about what I'd said.
He started to speak, then stopped himself and shook his head, considering further. But when he looked around the table, he saw all the faces looking to him. Gary always seems pretty good at knowing what to do. I watched his face, waiting. But when he spoke, he seemed a bit uncertain, which is unlike him.
"Moira – I wish I could give you more time, but we've got to figure out how to deal with this in the next couple of days. There are some issues – stuff that I really don't want to bother you with, nor Saralinda. But I need your input, and maybe hers as well. And it's all kind of delicate."
With that, he handed me a printout of an article from the Seattle Times that he'd gotten off the web. "Police Search River for Missing Woman". The article was short, and said little, but it was enough to piece together what had happened. A neighbor had seen Saralinda standing on the bridge rail. He'd gone to call the police, and when he got back to the window, Saralinda was gone. The cops weren't that interested, thinking the man was imagining things. So, giving up on the cops, he'd walked out to the bridge herself, and had found Saralinda's coat and wallet. That got the police's attention. They'd gone to her address, where Saralinda's father reported that she seemed to be missing. So the cops were treating it as a missing person case and a possible suicide. They'd sent divers down to look for a body.
I phone the office and Moira answers, “Good day, Brown’s companies, Moira speaking. How can I help you?” “Hey Sweetie, can I speak with your mom?” “I thought you were supposed to be on a date with Dahlia.” “It ended early. She will probably tell you all about it. Just don’t push her, OK.” “OK. Just a sec. I’ll get Mom for you.” “Helen speaking. How can I help you?” “Mrs. Papadakis, it’s Trent. I was wondering if I could take you to coffee so we could talk about some personal...
Tony and Anita were sitting at a late breakfast when the maid came in and gushed out the news. “I just heard it from the Cartwicks’ driver, Miss Heyworth. Lord Brougham’s son was killed in a duel this morning! And before the eyes of his father! What a tragedy! I better brush out your black dress. Will you be going to the funeral?” “I guess I have to, at least for his poor wife’s sake,” Anita answered, but the maid was already rushing out, probably to relay the gossip to other acquaintances....
It was distinctly strange to have the door to Saralinda's room closed. I knew she was in her room, and somehow the closed door seemed like a message to me. I'd been really happy that Joanne had dragged me out to go snorkeling, and I really should have asked Saralinda, but I wanted one more precious day of just Joanne and me. And now that door was closed. I was in my own room, with the air conditioning off and the window open, enjoying the heavy tropical air. Staying off-ship for two weeks...
Life on Furthurmore has done little to help me learn patience. Usually, the only thing I ever get impatient over is the arrival of dinner, or Jake being slow in bringing me a drink from the bar. Not nearly the same class of thing as waiting three days for the psychological evaluation to be completed. One thing we hadn't counted on was that they wanted to observe her for 72 hours. We could see her every day, for an hour in the morning, an hour in the afternoon, but that was it. I wasn't...
Out of the dreamless sleep of the dead, I was startled awake, and lay there, wondering what had awoken me. I was alone, and I unaccountably felt annoyed by that. I'd grown accustomed to having Saralinda in my bed, but the last couple of weeks, I'd gone to bed alone more than once, though she'd always joined me sometime during the night. It was my fault as much as hers, probably, if it was anyone's fault. I was spending a lot of time with Joanne, and Saralinda was hanging out with Malia....
"You ready?" I was in Joanne's room, though it hardly looked like the room I knew. Instead, it seemed like a rather barren guest room. All of her carefully gathered trinkets were gone, packed away and already sent to San Diego. Gone also were the wall hangings and the framed paintings and prints that had covered her walls. Gone, even, was her quilt, a gorgeous blue-toned handmade heirloom that had been her grandmother's. The suitcases, sitting ajar on the floor, made me sure that if I...
[Note – this chapter contains descriptions of past physical and sexual abuse that may disturb some readers, and which are not reflected in the story codes - Gray] I led Saralinda back towards my room. Sometimes it was hard to believe she'd tried to kill herself just days previously, but then she'd say something that would bring it all freshly to mind. My heart ached for the poor girl. I just hoped and prayed that we could keep her safe and heal her and let her know, really know, that hopes...
It was two in the afternoon when I got back to my room. I'd been on lunch duty, both preparation and clean-up. I was surprised that Saralinda wasn't in the room, and it left me wondering what to do with myself. I wasn't sure what I felt like doing. It was a nice day, of course. I could go to the pool. Or I could get out my guitar. Or I could go see what Jake was up to, or Gary, or Joanne. I didn't mind my aimless life, but there were times when it made me feel somewhat superfluous in the...
We were brushing out our hair, after our shower, when Saralinda spoke. "I'm sorry," she began. "I guess I shouldn't have, like, intruded this morning. But when I woke up, I couldn't even remember where we were. And then I heard you singing upstairs, so I went up there, and there wasn't a door to knock on or anything..." I smiled at her. "It was fine. Don't worry about it," I told her. "And then, when you told me to come over, I couldn't believe it. I was so afraid at first – I...
I went to bed alone, but I woke up between Gary and Saralinda. It was nice to feel so loved, but it did make it harder to get up to go pee. I managed by pulling Saralinda into a hug, rolling her on top of me, and after a little cuddle during which she didn't really wake up, rolling again, leaving her next to Gary. After, I looked at the clock – seven – the sun was up and we should be too. I stood in the bathroom, looking in the mirror. How could I already be more than thirty? Almost 35 ......
"So? What are you going to do, Joanne?" She'd just gotten off the phone with her fiancé, Burt, back in San Diego, and her eyes were still focused half way around the world, it seemed to me. When she didn't answer, I moved over next to her and took her in my arms for comfort. "You okay, Jo?" I added. "Yeah," she finally managed to get out. She she gave herself a little bit of a shake, and I let her go. "Yeah, I'm okay. Burt says to stay here until Gary and Kate get back. I think...
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