Chapter 9
"My name is Doctor Black," the woman said. "I'm a psychiatrist specializing in women's issues. I work with the Medical Center. Dr. Lerner calls me in whenever she runs across someone special, such as you."
Rickie, after having returned to her bed after an excruciating walk down the hall, had been interrupted while sitting alone at desultory dinnertime play with her plastic carton of Neapolitan Jell-O on the tray before her. She placed her spoon on the tray and regarded the younger woman before her. The black-eyed woman was tall, tanned and fit, dressed, not like a doctor, but rather more like a cowgirl, or cow-woman, or whatever, colorfully and comfortably outfitted in a pair of loose-fitting red Wranglers over turquoise and silver boots, topped with a soft, v-neck pink cashmere, a hint of muscularity overriding her otherwise soft femininity.
"Spare me the crap about being special. I don't need the warm-up or the pitch. I already told Doctor Lerner I don't need a shrink."
"You've been here for what," Black replied, "almost twenty four hours?"
"About that. I should be out of here by tomorrow or the next day."
"Back through the looking glass, eh? It's amazing the way we women create such illusions for ourselves, as though we can simply step beyond the fact we were beaten and left for dead by the man in our life. I often imagine Nicole Brown Simpson living under such an illusion. They say she was already knocked unconscious before he started carving. You know, of course, what the knife represented."
"Sure. It represented his prick. But my problems with Hershey are nothing like Nicky and O.J.," Rickie said. "We've never had problems in the bedroom like O.J. had with Nicole. Everybody knows Nicole left him because he couldn't get it up anymore."
"You're avoiding the subject. Your husband put you in the hospital."
"I'm in the hospital because I miscarried. It was probably to be expected, what with me trying to have a baby at my age. I resent your implication I'm somehow avoiding reality."
"It was a whole lot more than a miscarriage. Dr. Lerner said you nearly died from internal bleeding."
"I'm tired, Dr. Black. Thanks for trying to help me. You can thank Dr. Lerner for me on your way out."
"That's it, Rickie. Deny it ever happened!" Black's tone was harsh.
"I don't deserve this treatment. Dr. Black, please leave now."
Black wandered to the window, where a good sized storm was brewing, bringing an eerie, purple darkness to the cityscape. "That's true. You don't deserve mistreatment. You didn't do anything to deserve to be battered. Somehow, it happened anyway, didn't it? From what your son tells me, it isn't the first time in your life."
"You've been talking to my son?"
"Jesse Edwin tells me Hirschfeld's been abusing you for years."
"Get out!"
"Hirschfeld is looking for you. He'll doubtless locate you within the next few hours, or days. I'm sure it will be a happy occasion for him. In fact, some of the most vicious batterers become tender and affectionate when their woman has taken ill. Are you looking forward to seeing him? Looking forward to his pathetic attempts to comfort you, to shower you with attention and affection?"
Rickie flung the Jell-O at her tormentor, the sloppy bomb exploding across the center of the soft pink cardigan. Black stood, motionless, her brown eyes radiating compassion.
"Is that how it starts?" Black said. "Does he first humiliate you into a rage? Does he insult you and goad you into starting the fight first, which gives him permission to finish it?"
"Shut up ... shut up! It always starts with a stupid argument! This last time was because I erased over a tape he was saving. It was so stupid! He made me so angry I threw the tape at him! It bounced off his shoulder and then he started in on me! I couldn't make him stop! He hurt my baby! He killed my baby!"
Rickie, finding the door of her imprisoned emotions thrown open by this interchange, was swept away by her escaping feelings and soon found herself screaming and shaking and crying, her body held in check by the comforting strength of the doctor until at long last it seemed not another tear could be extracted by any means. As though in counterpoint to her performance, the storm outside broke with a loud peal of thunder and a downpour of another sort began outside her window, the calm in the room being magnified by this outward show of Mother Nature.
"I still don't feel I need counseling," Rickie finally said. "Thank you for caring. You're a nice lady."
"Awhile back, my cat Kali delivered a nice litter," Black said. "I'm looking for a home for the last one. She's the runt, but she's a handsome runt, a white and black female. She's three weeks' old."
Rickie, wiping her eye with a tissue, said, "I don't believe this. You came in here to confront me about my being a battered woman, and now, failing to sell me your services, you're trying to pawn off your runt?"
"One does what one can," Black said. "When you're trying to get rid of the runt, you simply have to ask everyone you meet."
In spite of herself, Rickie smiled. "This is crazy. I'm grinning from ear to ear and I can't seem to stop. I can't believe you tried to give away a runt!"
Black, caught up in Rickie's grin, displayed one herself from which an arc of joy leaped, infecting Rickie's spirit further, to the point the two women began to laugh wholeheartedly and without reservation, as though to erect an emotional hedge against the rainy day outside the window, and to reaffirm the goodness of all things.
"Doctor Black, I thought I'd never hear myself laugh again. I'll take the runt."
"Aha," Black replied. "Call me."