Life in Violet

From Chapter 1 She lived on the North Shore of Boston in a little, gray house perched high on a rock. It had views of the sea. Vi called her house “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue,” privately, to herself. Pain and trouble came in one door–into her office in the back. She would never share the sea with her clients. “The Deep Blue” in the front, overlooking the ocean, was hers, her place to refresh herself, cleanse herself from the day’s troubles. Violet McKay, herself, was a welcoming looking person. She was pleasingly well-rounded, decidedly female. Her hair was a deep, red auburn, eyes a rich brown. She had full nourishing breasts. Useful in my profession, she thought. She also had her own way of looking at things. Some might have thought this was a result of her being a psychotherapist. But no matter how oddly she thought, she always looked accessible, almost like a child. No armor. Clients were never afraid of her, although she carried the quiet authority of understanding, knowledge, and skill. Today, at the end of a long summer day, Vi sat in her office. A particularly difficult client had just left, a man. The sun had just set leaving behind a pinkish glow, a little leftover passion. A little leftover passion. That’s it, Vi thought. She thought about the session. He had come in breathing heavily after climbing the steep hill to her house. “I just climbed up and down those damn stairs twice before coming in. You have a lot of nerve situating your office up here. It’s a test, isn’t it? A trick! Only those able to survive get to see you.” “As if I’m a goddess.” Vi heard his image. “Yes. A goddamn goddess giving tests,” he spat out angrily. Vi watched him. The imagery in the situation was fascinating. This man had just climbed up and down a rocky incline twice. The driveway was right next to her house. There was no need for him to do this. The curtains fluttered. “A goddess giving tests, exactly, exactly.” He sat forward in his chair. Vi could smell his perspiration. From Chapter 7 Vi watched Dr. Nash. He barely looked up as she was introduced. He looked like a sleeping animal, dull, bored, sated. He finally roused himself to look at her and nod. Vi was mildly repelled. To think this man is a psychiatrist–the interest he takes in people. She shivered a little. I’d hate to be under his care. He looks like the sort to sleep through therapy sessions. No wonder Jerry asked me over–to help manage him. Dr. Nash spoke to Jerry. He said they should order dinner, as if to hurry things along. Vi had been seated next to him. She noticed the tone of his voice, the command for dinner. I don’t like this man, she thought. Besides his arrogance, he took no notice of her. Men usually responded to her. At the very least, they liked to look at her. Vi was used to being liked, admired, something. Even polite notice of her work was something. Vi seethed. The man was irritating, swollen with himself. She wondered if she were overreacting. To feel such a powerful antipathy to a person instantly! She resolved to give the man a chance. Jerry was asking Dr. Nash if he was under time pressure. Dr. Nash actually apologized and said he was working on a paper, and he had hoped to put some work in on it tonight. “What are you writing about?” Vi spoke up, true to her resolution. Dr. Nash roused and quickened in Vi’s sun. He told them all in great detail about his thoughts on residency training. Occasionally he would glance at Jerry, then his focus returned inward, although his eyes always remained on his hands. Vi felt invisible and inconsequential. She could easily see him on a raised dais lecturing to medical students back in 1910. She noticed he only looked at Jerry, never at her or Anne. Just then Anne caught her eye. She rolled her eyes. Vi squelched a laugh. Even Anne was bored. Dr. Nash was relaxing, expanding, performing. He and Jerry were talking about the administration of Melville Hospital. Perhaps Anne and I should leave, go in another room, play some eighteenth century card game, or maybe just start the dishes. She was more annoyed than she would have thought possible. A total stranger. Then Dr. Nash shifted position just as Vi reached for her wine glass. She caught a whiff of him. Enhanced male smell. Her pulse quickened. She was almost dizzy. It was her favorite men’s cologne. She sat back sipping her wine and tried to gather herself together. It was no use. She breathed Dr. Nash in secretly. And looked at him with new eyes. He was really quite attractive. He had a massive head, which she could easily imagine carved on Mt. Rushmore, a deep chest, broad shoulders. A quick glance under the table revealed solid thighs. His body, his whole being proclaimed importance. Vi’s pulse quickened and she chuckled inwardly. This had turned out to be an evening of sensual delight–first the wine, the color, and now the scented warmth of Dr. Nash. But Dr. Nash had spotted her. “I’ve said something to amuse you?” he said coolly. Dr. Nash was insulted. Vi was pleased. At least she was no longer invisible. From Chapter 12 Dr. Blau came in as Beth left. “I am a psychiatrist. Dr. Conor called me. He seemed to think you might need a little help.” Vi sighed a little to herself. She looked up. He wore a navy blue tie with red flecks on it, just like the one Dr. Nash wore. Her eyes never reached his face. She began to shiver. “I’m cold,” she said. He put a blanket around her. Vi kept shivering. He asked her questions. “Do you know where you are?” She said, “Melville Hospital.” She answered the year, and her name and occupation. Dr. Blau sat back. “I thought you looked familiar.” He was a new resident, had just begun his psychiatric training. “Now what’s going on with you, Violet McKay?” “POWs–name, rank, and serial number,” Vi stated blankly. This shame should not creep about, she thought. Dr. Blau murmured–”POWs–war.” He paused. “You must be in a state of shock. Some crisis beyond the burns. I think you should be admitted to the inpatient unit for a few days’ observation. We can keep an eye on you and give you a little time to sort out whatever this is.” “Psych?” Vi looked up, startled into awareness of her situation. “Psych?” She was horrified. This was her job. Thoughts flooded her. All the clients she had hospitalized on Brimmer Two. Now she was in the same boat. Her pride, her sense of herself sickened. She was so much her work. The door to Brimmer Two swung open. In an instant, Vi could see the inpatient unit spread out in front of her. The place was always as airless as it was now, although now, on Sunday, silent, save for the scraping of an occasional chair in the kitchen. The patients were eating. She consulted here. These were her patients. Vi was pushed rapidly toward the nurses’ station. Her heart began to thud. She melted into fear and humiliation. She could see Julie’s name blazoned across a banner on the wall above the station. Her least favorite nurse. “Goodbye, Julie.” A party for Julie. Julie of the tight little voice and lofty manner. She was rolled right to her feet. Tall and thin, blue marbles for eyes. “Oh, Ms. McKay, I just heard you were coming up. Whatever happened to you? We have just the place for you, where we can keep an eye on you.” Julie glanced at the orderly. “Put her in the observation room, there next to the desk. I’ll be right in.” Julie picked up the phone, and Vi was pushed into the room with the one way window. One bed. At least it was a single. She tried to remember what could be seen from the desk. The orderly helped her out of the wheelchair onto the bed. The orderly left. Vi sat on the bed waiting for Julie. The paper bag sat next to her. Finally Vi’s vigilance collapsed. She was in the hands of the enemy.