Jonathan Kellerman - Self-Defence

"Have a nice day," she said, smiling.

I smiled back, trying not to look at the bandages around her wrists.

Her door closed and I knocked on Lucy's.

"Come in."

The room was eight by eight, painted that same brownish-white, with a bed, a fake-wood nightstand, a tiny doorless closet, and a desk and chair that looked child-sized. The TV was mounted high on the wall, the remote control bolted to the nightstand. Next to it was a stack of paperbacks. The top one was entitled Grievous Sin.

No bathroom. A single immovable window, embedded with metal mesh, offered a view of the parking lot and the supermarket that was the hospital's neighbor.

Lucy sat on the bed, on top of the covers, dressed in jeans and a white button-down shirt. Her sleeves were rolled to the elbow, her hair was pinned up, and her feet were bare. An open magazine rested in her lap. She could have been a college girl relaxing in a dorm room.

"Hi." She put the magazine aside. Good Homemaking. The cover promised "Holiday Snacks Your Family Will Love You For."

"How's it going?" I said, sitting in the chair.

"I'll be glad to get out of here."

"They treating you okay?"

"Fine, but it's still prison."

"I spoke to Dr. Embrey. She seems nice."

"Nice enough." Flat voice.

I waited.

"Nothing against her," she said, "but I'm not going to have anything to do with her when I get out."

"Why's that?"

"Because she's too young. How much experience could she have?"

"Did she do or say something to weaken your confidence?"

"No, she's smart enough. It's just her age. And the fact that she's the one who's keeping me in- a jailor's a jailor. Once I'm out, I'm finished with this place and anyone associated with it. Do you think that's foolish?"

"I think you need someone to talk to."

"What about you?"

I smiled and touched the gray at my temple. "So I'm old enough for you."

"You're experienced, Dr. Delaware. And we've already got a relationship, why start from scratch?"

I nodded.

"You don't agree," she said.

"I'll never abandon you, Lucy."

"But you think I should see Embrey." Her voice had tightened.

"I think ultimately you make the choice. I don't want you to feel abandoned, but I also don't want to sabotage Dr. Embrey. She seems very capable, and she's interested in you."

"She's a kid."

I said nothing.

She scooted to the edge of the bed and sat there, legs dangling, toes brushing the carpet. "So that's it for my therapy with you."

"I'll always be here for you and I'll help you any way I can, Lucy. I just want you to do what's best for you."

She looked away.

"Who knows, maybe I don't even need a therapist." She turned back to me sharply. "Do you really think I tried to kill myself?"

"It looks that way, Lucy."

A painful smile flickered. "Well, at least you're honest. And at least you call me Lucy. They call me Lucretia. He gave me that name. After Lucretia Borgia- he hates women. Jo's full name was Jocasta. How's that for Oedipal ?"

"What about your brothers?"

"No, the boys' names are okay. He let the boys be named by their mothers. He was only out to ruin the girls."

"Ruin, how?"

"Rotten names, for one. How can I have confidence in this place when they don't even respect me enough to call me what I want? I keep telling them Lucy, but each time a new nurse comes on shift, all they do is read the chart. Lucretia this, Lucretia that. "How are you, Lucretia?' "

She got up and looked out the window.

"I didn't put my head in that oven," she said. "I have no idea how I ended up there, but I didn't do it. Not sleepwalking or any other way."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I just know. Not that I'd ever tell Embrey that. She'd think I'm crazy."

"She doesn't," I said. "And neither do I. But I do think you might have done it while sleepwalking. It's unusual but not impossible."

"Maybe for someone else, but not me."

She turned around. She'd cried, and moisture streaked her cheeks.

"I know it sounds bizarre and paranoid, but someone's trying to kill me. I told Embrey I changed my mind about that because I didn't want her to lock me up forever. But there's something you should know about. Can I tell you in confidence, without your telling her?"

"That puts me in a bind, Lucy."

"Okay," she said. "I understand. I don't want to do that to you. But either way, she won't know. Not until I get out of here."

We didn't speak. She dried her eyes and smiled.

"Thanks for coming. Thanks for doing what you think is right… I didn't put my head in that oven. Why would I do that? I want to live."

She dried her cheeks. "Those phone calls. I thought they were nothing- maybe they were nothing. But I am… going to tell you, even though you'll probably think I'm nuts and I'll get locked up till who-knows-when."

She began to cry.

I put my hand on her shoulder and it made her cry harder. When she stopped, she said, "I so don't want to be locked up. I cherish my independence."

"I won't do anything to lock you up, if you promise not to hurt yourself."

"That's easy. I don't want to hurt myself. I promise, Dr. Delaware- I swear. "

She sat quietly for several moments. "One time- right after I started seeing you- I came home and found some of my stuff moved."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Clothes… underwear. I'm no neat freak, but I do have places for everything. And my panties and bras had been moved- reversed in the drawer- as if someone had taken them out and put them back, folded a way I never fold them. And one pair of panties was missing."

"Why didn't you tell anyone about this?"

"I don't know. It only happened once, and I thought maybe I was imagining it. I'd just done a load of laundry the day before; I figured it was possible I'd left the panties in the machine and maybe I had put my stuff back differently- absentminded. I mean, I'm not the kind of person to imagine the worst. But now I realize someone must have been in my place."

She grabbed my arm. "Maybe that's why I started having the dream again. Because I felt threatened. I don't know; sometimes I think I am imagining everything. But I'm not crazy."

I patted her shoulder and she let go of my arm.

"Did Ken really save me?"

"Yes."

"What's he like?"

"He seems nice."

"Another thing I'm worried about is, where's Puck? Embrey's giving me some story about his calling her from New Mexico, but that makes no sense."

"He called Ken from there, too."

She took hold of my arm again, harder. "Then why hasn't he called me ?"

I was silent.

"It doesn't make sense," she said.

"He told both Dr. Embrey and Ken that he was on some kind of business trip. He had a dinner date with Ken a couple of nights ago but didn't show up. That's how Ken came to save you. He was looking for Puck at your place because Puck told him you were close."

"We are… Puck never told me about any dinner date."

"It was a trial balloon the two of them had worked out, to see how they'd get along. If they did, they were going to get you involved."

"Protecting me? Typical." She stood up and yanked her hair loose. "Puck's always trying to protect me, even though- so why hasn't he called?"

"Even though what?"

Hesitation. "Even though he's not the toughest guy in the world himself."

"What does he do for a living?"

Another pause. "Different things, over the years."

She turned around, brown eyes hot. "Right now, he's not doing anything. He has three years of college with a major in history. Try to find something decent with that. Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon and we'll straighten it out. I've got lots of things to straighten out. Thank God I'm getting out soon."