Gillian Anderson - The Sound of Seas

“How can you?” Nancy asked. “You’ve been drugged! Before that, you were unconscious in a park.”

“Mom, just come in, shut the door, and let’s talk.”

“Why? So you can convince me to let you do something you shouldn’t be doing? I won’t allow it.”

“Okay, fine,” Caitlin said, holding up her hands. She pulled back on her pajama top. “I don’t want to stress you. I appreciate you being here. I assume Dad is with Jacob?”

Nancy nodded, calming slightly. “Your friend Anita is there too, resting.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know where my clothes are, anyway.”

Nancy softened further. “On a tray under the bed and they’re a disaster,” she said.

Caitlin sat there looking at her mother. “You know, you wouldn’t believe from me, from my clothes, that the last few weeks have actually been pretty astonishing. How is Jacob?”

“All right,” Nancy said. “He’s resting too.”

“What time is it? What day is it?”

“Tomorrow for you, about four o’clock.” She added, “In the afternoon.” Her expression continued to lose its edge as she came forward. “Caitlin, what happened? Did you have some kind of seizure?”

“Is that what the doctors said?”

“They don’t know what to think, exactly.”

“I’m not surprised. It was more like a hypnotic episode—it’s a long story but there’s nothing wrong with me. Nothing physical. Nothing I need to be here for.”

“Ohhhh… I know what you’re doing, Caitlin.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I wouldn’t let you out angry so you’re trying to smooch me up. It won’t work. You’re going to let Dr. Yang decide what should be done, and that includes when you leave.”

“He doesn’t know me and I don’t know him,” Caitlin protested.

“You don’t know everything,” Nancy said.

“Excuse me?”

“Dr. Yang actually knows about your work,” Nancy said with a hint of pride. “He says he’s read the articles you wrote in the Journal of Pediatric Health Care about children and the trauma of tribal warfare.”

Caitlin’s defiance, which had been threatening to resurface, deflated just a little. “Mother, I’m flattered and touched and I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m truly not. But you have to trust me to handle my own trauma.”

“You take too many chances, Caitlin.”

“Honestly, Mom? I’ve already taken them. Right now I’m only trying to clean up the loose ends.”

“Does this have to do with all those trips you took recently?” Nancy asked. “To Haiti, to Iran of all places…?”

“They’re part of it. Couldn’t be helped.”

Nancy shook her head. “You’re so impatient. Impatient to know and to know now . You always have been.”

“Not like my steady, ready sister.”

“I’m not comparing you,” Nancy insisted.

“Sure you are. You just ticked off the two big things that Abby is not.”

“Abby has her flaws,” Nancy said. “You have a very open mind. She’s Ms. Know-it-All.”

Nancy was right about that. Caitlin kept her mouth shut and looked down. She began moving her fingers a little, extending them down, then out, trying to find the tile or the point in the past from which she had departed. It was gone. All of it.

Nancy did not notice what her daughter was doing. She moved toward Caitlin and began to sob a little as she approached.

“I did speak with Abby on the way in,” Nancy said.

“Ah.”

“She told me not to let you do exactly what you’re doing—take charge of your own health care. She meant it with love and concern.”

“I’m sure that’s how she meant it,” Caitlin replied. She looked up. Her mother seemed very, very tired. Caitlin felt guilty about that, but also grateful. Whether it was running off to disasters around the globe or being a single mother, she did challenge her mother’s traditional beliefs over and over, especially compared to her very traditional younger sister, a surgeon who was married with two children and living in Santa Monica.

Nancy nodded and wiped her eyes with a finger. “I’m sorry, but we were asleep and got a call from your friend Ben that something had happened to you—he didn’t say what, only that you were in the hospital. It wasn’t until we got here that I was able to talk to someone who would understand.”

“I’m so sorry for that,” Caitlin said quietly.

“Forgive me if I’m trying to keep you with us, safe . Not just for your father and me but for your son.”

“I know.”

“What— what were you doing in the park at that hour? Had you gone to see a patient? Were you on a date?”

Caitlin couldn’t help but smile at that. Her mother had actually sounded hopeful. “Not exactly.”

“I remember that boy—man, I mean. Ben. He was with you last night—”

“Ships passing,” Caitlin said.

“Just last night, you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin answered honestly. “Listen, we can talk about this later, Mom, okay? I don’t mean to take charge, but my brain is starting to function clearly again and there are a few things I have to know. I’m at Lenox Hill, right?”

Nancy nodded once.

“Okay—you said Jacob is sleeping. Do you know for how long?”

“Since early this morning, according to Anita,” Nancy admitted, sniffling briefly but stopping herself. “Is he involved in whatever is going on?”

“He is, which, frankly, is why I have to get out of here.”

Nancy tried, and failed, to stifle a little gasp.

“Mom, just hear me out. The trance that hit me in the park? He got caught by some of it as well—”

“How is that possible? What were you doing?”

“Helping patients, and I succeeded. Please—let me ask the questions? They’re really important.”

“All right.”

“You said Dad’s with him. And Anita. What about Ben? My… my friend.”

“No. But he’s been checking in all day, with both of us.”

Caitlin quietly thanked Anita, her father, Ben, and God, in that order. The last—coming from an agnostic—indicated to Caitlin just how far her spirituality had evolved in a very short time.

“Did Anita say anything about Jacob’s condition?” Caitlin asked.

“She said that his vitals were fine and we agreed, ultimately, that you wouldn’t want him to go to the hospital. Your father wasn’t happy with that, but she said that she’s a doctor and had seen this before.”

“She’s absolutely right.” She saw it with Caitlin, in fact.

“Your father was doing what he thought was best—”

“I know. I’m just saying that Anita knows the situation, made the right call. And I’m very grateful Dad went along with her. Okay,” Caitlin went on, quickly prioritizing. “I want to talk to Anita but first you have to do me a favor.”

Nancy hesitated. “What?”

“Text Barbara Melchior. My therapist. Her number’s on my phone.”

Nancy looked toward the closet then back to Caitlin. “You’ll stay where you are?”

Caitlin crossed her heart. “I will not push you in and lock the door like when I was ten.”

“I don’t believe you. Get into bed and lift up the rail.”

“Jesus, Mom—”

“In the bed and lift it.”

Caitlin knew the tone of voice: Nancy O’Hara wasn’t moving until Caitlin did as she asked. Caitlin acquiesced. It was either that or bum-rushing her to get the phone. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, away from the damp pillow. She pulled up the rail. The bars locked upright with finality. Nancy hesitated, her eyes ranging along the IV tube. She gasped when she saw where it ended.