Wanting Rita by Douglas Elyse

Author:Douglas, Elyse [Douglas, Elyse]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-05-01T07:00:00+00:00

Rita fell asleep in the back bedroom, the room next to my father’s library. It was almost one o’clock. By the time I’d helped remove her clothes, given her one of my sister’s old flannel night gowns and put her to bed, the emotion had nearly run itself out. I’d taken her blood pressure and pulse just before she’d fallen asleep, as she mumbled how sorry she was. Both were normal.

“I’m a doctor, Rita. I can help.”

“I don’t want you to be my doctor. I have a doctor,” she’d said, stammering. “I also have a shrink.”

“Do you want me to call your mother?”

“God, no!”

She turned her head away in shame, grumbled out something else about “heroes and heroines,” and fell asleep.

I spent the next hour and a half wandering the house and the back lawn, gazing longingly at the pond, watching the sky fill with a puzzle of white clouds, nervously glancing at my watch. If I didn’t leave by 3 o’clock, I’d never make it to New York for dinner with Nicole.

At 2:35 I was standing in the kitchen, absent and nervous, nibbling on some bread and cheese when Rita drifted in, still in the flannel gown, sleepy-eyed. Her hair had tight springy tangles, her eyes were swollen, energy low.

“Hi,” I said. “How do you feel?”

She stopped at the island and gave a long stressed sigh. “…Better.” She looked at the gown. “Clothes?”

I pushed away from the counter. “...Oh, I washed and dried them. Hope that was okay?”

She nodded. “I need to go.”

I waited. “Sure.” But I didn’t move. “Rita…”

She held up a hand to stop me. She scratched her nose. “Some reunion…huh?”

“It’s okay... Really.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No, no, Alan James. I’ve been good. So good. I’ve been well.” She tried to explain with her hands. “Just… I don’t know what happened out there.”

“Memories?” I asked.

She lifted a reluctant shoulder and sank a little.

I started for her, but stopped. I could see—no feel—she didn’t want pity.

Then she surprised me by smiling a little. “Glad you didn’t think I was faking this time.”

It took me a minute to awake to her meaning. “Oh yes, the Holiday Inn. The drowning. Yes, well…”

Then she looked through me and beyond me. I saw the struggle of an idea or question and, when she spoke, her voice was small. “I’m not crazy.”

“I know that,” I said quickly. “I know you’re not.” But I knew she wasn’t stable either. There was something else she wanted to say; I could feel it, but she asked for her clothes instead.

After she’d showered and dressed, she met me on the porch, where I sat on the porch swing, gently rocking. I stood as she came over. Her shoulders sagged a little, her eyes were evasive. “Alan James. In two weeks. In two weeks, on Saturday…” She stopped, gathering courage. “Birthday…”

“Your birthday?” I asked, then immediately recalled that her birthday was in August.

“No, no. I’m asking, because I do need… help.”

I leaned toward her, eagerly. “Yes. Anything, Rita.

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