But it felt so real.
“How is Cecelia doing?” I ask.
“She’s doing great.” He squeezes my hand. “She’s so excited you’re coming home.”
I would have thought she might forget me while I was in here, but she never forgets. I wasn’t allowed to see her for the first several months I was here, but when Andy finally brought her to me, the two of us clung to each other, and when visiting hours ended, she wailed her head off until my heart broke in two.
I’ve got to get home. I’ve got to get back to my life the way it was. Andy has been so great about everything. He took on more than he bargained for with me.
“So I’m going to pick you up at noon on Sunday,” he says. “And then I’ll drive you home. My mother will stay with Cece.”
“Great,” I say.
As much as I’m excited about coming home and seeing my daughter, the thought of returning to that house gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’m not looking forward to setting foot back there. Especially in the attic.
I’m never going up there again.
FORTY-FOUR
“What are you afraid of, Nina?”
I look up at Dr. Hewitt’s question. I’ve been going to these sessions for the last four months, two times a week, ever since my discharge from Clearview. Dr. Hewitt would not have been my first choice. For starters, I probably would have picked a female therapist and someone younger—like without a full head of gray hair. But Andy’s mother highly recommended Dr. John Hewitt, and I didn’t feel comfortable saying no, considering Andy has paid through the teeth for all my psychiatric care.
Anyway, Dr. Hewitt has turned out to be very good. He does press me with some hard questions. Like right now we are addressing the fact that I have not gone near the attic of our house since I’ve been home.
I shift on his leather sofa. The expensive furnishing in this office is a testament to my therapist’s great success. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of. That’s the problem.”
“Do you really think there’s a dungeon up in the attic?”
“Not a dungeon, but…”
After all my claims about what had been done to me in our house, a police officer was sent to check out the attic. He found the room up there and verified it was nothing more than a storage closet. Filled with boxes and papers.
It was a delusion. Something went wrong with the chemicals in my brain and I imagined Andy was holding me hostage. I mean, making me pluck out my hair and put them in an envelope just because I missed a hairdresser appointment? That’s completely insane, in retrospect.
But it felt so real at the time. And I have been diligent about coloring my hair ever since I got home. Just in case.
Andy has been keeping the door to the stairwell up to the attic closed. As far as I know, he hasn’t opened it since I came home.
“I think it would be therapeutic for you to go up there,” Dr. Hewitt tells me, his thick white eyebrows knitted together. “That way the place won’t hold any power over you anymore. You’ll see for yourself that it’s just a storage closet.”
“Maybe…”
Andy has been encouraging me to go up there as well. Just see for yourself. There’s nothing to be scared of.
“Promise me you’ll try, Nina,” he says.
“I’ll try.”
Maybe. We’ll see.
Dr. Hewitt escorts me into the waiting area, where Andy is sitting on one of the wooden chairs, reading something on his phone. When he sees me, his face breaks into a smile. He has rearranged his schedule to take me to every single one of these appointments. I don’t know how he could still love me so much after the terrible things I accused him of. But we are working together to heal.
And he waits until we’re in his BMW to ask about the session. “So how did it go?”
“He thinks I should go visit the attic room.”
“And?”
I swallow as I watch through the window as the scenery flies by. “I’m considering it.”
Andy bobs his head. “I think it’s a good idea. Once you get up there, you’ll realize the whole thing was all just a delusion. It will be like a revelation, you know?”
Or I could have another complete breakdown and try to kill Cecelia again. Of course, that would be difficult since I’m not currently allowed to be alone with her. Either Andy or his mother are around at all times. That was one of the conditions of my coming home. I don’t know how long I’m going to need to be babysat when I’m with my own daughter, but right now it’s clear that nobody trusts me.