The 'Psycho' In Psychology

3 - Cancer

  Sybils Mom >>>>>

    The walls fell down and I crumbled into my mothers arms, her hair smelling of the familiar mint shampoo she loved. Her shoulders shook but when I looked up I realized she wasn’t crying. Her eyes where still shut, but I could almost see the grief that would be behind those eyelids.

   “Sybil, I have something to tell you-”

   I slowly slithered out of her cold arms and took slow steps back. Anger simmered within me, threatening to explode. She hadn’t come to see me for two years. Two years where all I had wanted was to know someone cared. Two years of wanting to see Adrian. And now two years of anger were about to be released but there was nothing at all I could do to stop it.

   “Where have you been?” I hissed, retreating towards the door. My mom cringed back against the poison in my voice, eyes wide.

   “Sybil, you have to understand-” Her face remained expressionless.

   “Understand what mom?. That you think I’m too crazy? That you wish I weren’t your daughter?”

   “Sybil”

   “Because I understand. I understand just fine.”

   “Sybil, listen to me right now!”

   “I bet you didn’t come with Dad, did you?”

   “No, because-”

   “Because he would feel sorry for me and try to get me out of here?”

   Mom shot out of her seat fast as a bullet, eyes on fire “BECAUSE HE’S DEAD!”

   I stopped and stared. I had to ask again, I didn’t think I had heard correctly “He…what?”

   Mom sighed, silent tears leaving tracks on her face “Sybil, I’m so sorry…He died last night. Cancer.”

   “He had cancer? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I said, but really I was thinking no, he cant be dead. Edward Conroy was fearless, brave. He didn’t die from cancer.

    “I didn’t want you to panic. Your…Condition could have gotten worse with stress.” She replied, voice shaky. She braced as if waiting for me to flip my lid. I sunk slowly into the red velvet couch before deciding I didn’t have the strength to scream obscenities at her.

   “So. Is he getting a funeral?” I asked. I wasn’t close to my dad – infact, sometimes I really had hated him, but I wanted to go to his funeral.

   My mom bit her lip nervously “We sort of…already had it.”

   Of course. What should I have expected? I was about to say something snarky and biting that I probably would have regretted when the door behind me softly clicked shut.

   Dr. Hart ran his hand through his hair before coming to sit next to me on the couch. I could smell his lemon scented soapy skin from here and I took a second to breathe it in without looking too weird.

   “Are you alright Sybil?” He asked in a hushed voice. I nodded slightly and he gave me another one of those lopsided grins that made him look like a little boy.

   “And you Mrs. Conroy?” He asked. Mom’s eyes widened, presumably taking in the sight of him. She stuttered out something that sounded like a yes, and got up to shake the hand that Mr. Hart had stuck out.

   “Mrs. Conroy, may I have a quick word with you?”

   She nodded politely, and told me to leave - not so politely – before shutting the door in my face.

   The minute the door was shut I sunk down onto my knees and pressed my ears against the wood door that was thin enough for me to hear their words. Dr. Hart spoke first.

   “Mrs. Conroy, have you considered bringing Adrian?”

   “Dr.Hart--”

   “Call me Seth.”

   “OK, Seth, with all due respect Sybil is hardly in the state to see her 10 year old brother.”

   “I understand, but perhaps it would help--”

   Dr. Hart stopped and I heard a whispering. When Dr. Hart spoke his voice sounded different “Alright, well you’d better go then Mrs. Conroy.”

   I scrambled up from my sitting position just as the door clicked open and my mom stepped out, eyes rimmed red where it looked like she’d been crying.

   “Sybil dear, I need to get going.” She choked, wiping her eyes.

   I crossed my arms across my chest “Will you be coming back?”

   She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again “I-I-I…I’m not sure sweetie. There are things going on right now, I can’t, you know…” She drifted off. Can’t drop everything for you I thought bitterly. I shook my head, not wanting to hear her stutter anymore.

   “Whatever. Bye.”

   **********

   “Callie, stop strangling Nona right now!”

   In our ‘Talking Class’ we all sat in a circle while The White Coats held down Cutting Callie, who had recently been derived of her cigarettes and decided to take it out on Para-Nona, who was already afraid of her own shadow.

   The moral of the story? Just give Callie her damn cigarettes.

   “Amelia cut her some slack, she needs her daily dose of drugs, ain’t that right Cutter?” Said Drew cruelly, making wrist slitting motions with his hands. Callie let out a feral growl before lunging towards him. One of The White Coats grabbed her around the waist and dragged her out of the classroom, where she would probably be sent back to isolation.

   “What were you saying Dr. Connolly?” Chirped Sane-Seneta in her needy, desperate voice. We named her that because she had claimed she wasn’t supposed to be here at all, and that it had all been a mistake. Honestly, I was one of many who actually believe her story. She really did sound sane, and was always trying to get The Psychiatrists to believe her. Unfortunately, it came off desperate.

   “Oh, yes thank you Seneta. I was just saying that we should all talk about what bothers us.” She said, not sure of what to do with Seneta’s attitude. Seneta gave Amelia a sickly sweet smile. You could barely detect the note of grief behind it.

   “This asylum bothers me…” Quipped Drew, making me laugh despite my annoyance with the class.

    A‘Talking Stick’ was passed around the circle, each person stating what bothered them. Patricia said lack of matches, Skin and Bones Sally said anything with over 100 calories in it. Drew went off on some rant about 911 which we all ignored. Amelia had to stop him at one point; we could have been sitting there for hours.

   The stick got passed to me “Anything to say Sybil?” said Amelia in a voice that bordered on patronising.

   “No.” I said, short and non-negotiable. Amelia nodded and the stick went around.

   When I was about to leave Drew jumped up in front of the door, making me squeal.

   “Sybil, I’m sorry.” He said, and for a minute I honestly thought he was going to cry.

   “For what?”

   “For punching you…”

   “And?”

   He gave me a tiny grin “Eating your cookies…”

   I smiled back “Apology accepted.”