The Address(73)

“You don’t look well. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Sara couldn’t help it. She laughed.

“Was that funny?”

Sara remembered the energy she’d brought with her to this place, trying to sort it all out and determine where she stood, how to get out. “You oughtn’t bother.” Her voice was weak.

“Oughtn’t bother to do what?”

“Much of anything.” Sara sighed. The girl was not going to be ignored. “There’s no point.”

The girl walked to the window and looked out. “I can see the city from here.”

“Seems so close, doesn’t it?”

Nellie moved to her cot and sat down, tucking the calico dress under her legs. “Do they not give you anything more than this to wear?”

Sara shook her head.

“Even in winter?”

“We get coats to wear outside on the mandatory walks.”

“Why are you here?”

She certainly got right to the point.

“I got into trouble at my work and ended up here. I’m not sure how.”

“Are you crazy?”

Sara shook her head. If anything, the agony of childbirth had strengthened her confidence in her own mental acuity. She had lost a child. And she was here against her will. “No. Not at all.” She sat up and crossed her arms in front of her. “Are you?”

“No.”

There was no explanation, no accusation of others, and no excuses.

“Then why are you here?”

“That’s a very good question.” But Nellie didn’t answer it. “How long have you been here?”

“I came in January of this year.”

“How many madwomen would you say are in the asylum?”

“Patients.”

“Sorry? Oh, right. Patients. How many are there?”

“Sixteen hundred or so.”

As the afternoon sun made its way up the wall, Sara found herself opening up more than she ever had, even to Natalia. Partly, she wanted to give this girl a better chance at navigating the dangerous channels of Blackwell’s Island Insane Asylum. But she also wanted to be heard. One last time.

She told her of the beatings, the mistreatment and torture of Marianne. Nellie asked questions but didn’t seem overly shocked by any of it. Sometimes she repeated what Sara had said. Maybe she wasn’t very bright.

The food came. The woman picked up both trays and brought Sara one, laid it on her lap.

“I don’t want to eat.”

“I do, and I don’t like to eat alone, so you’ll have to indulge me.”

Sara bit off a crust of bread, shocked to discover her stomach growling for more.

“Where did you used to work, before you were sent here?” asked Nellie.

“I worked at the Dakota Apartment House.”

The woman put down her spoon. “I read all about that building during the construction. In what capacity?”

“I was the managerette.”

“You were in charge?”

“Under the managing agent, yes.”

Part of Sara was pleased to be able to shock this woman. Part of her wanted to sober her up, make her see that the outlook wasn’t good for either of them. You could be going along, living your life, and then see everything you’ve carefully built tumble down. She’d been worried about being with child, of how Theo would react. At the time, the problem seemed insurmountable. Until something else came along, a trip on a ferry into hell, that made her earlier troubles almost trite in comparison.

“What happened?”

“I was accused of stealing a necklace from one of the tenants.”

“Did you do that?”

“No. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me.”

“For that you were tossed in the madhouse?”

What was the point of playing games anymore? “I had an affair with the husband of the woman who accused me. I think she may have found out.”

“And had you committed, set you up, you mean?”

Sara had been turning the idea over in her head since her incarceration, trying to remember what had happened the days before the necklace had been found. If Mrs. Camden had found out about Theo and Sara and decided to get rid of her with a false accusation. “Perhaps.”

“Why are you up here and not with the rest of the ladies?”

“I stopped working, stopped doing much of anything. They don’t like that much.”

“What made you do that?”

Tears began falling down Sara’s face. No one had really cared much to ask why. “I had a baby, and it died, and there was no point after that.”

The woman took her hand. “The baby of your lover?”

Sara nodded. “He doesn’t even know I’m here. They’ve locked me away and I don’t know what he thinks or what happened. I’m done for.”

“I’m so sorry about the baby. You certainly don’t deserve to be tossed in an asylum for something you didn’t do. You didn’t do it, right?”

“No. I did not.”

The girl was spending far too much energy on Sara. She had to be warned.

“You need to take care of yourself going forward. Don’t question the other inmates like this, not in front of the nurses. You’ll get in trouble. The main thing is to not attract attention. Do as they ask, eat as much as you can, and in the sitting room, sit on the side opposite the windows, so you have something to look at.”