The Lobotomist's Wife(25)
Robert clapped Edward on the back. “Well, of course, I want to move on to living subjects as soon as we can. But we need a great deal more practice before I would feel comfortable recommending that the hospital begin to experiment on patients.”
“Yes, of course, of course.” Edward’s ears turned red. “I am not saying we begin tomorrow. But I am sure that, with this detailed information, our own leucotomy won’t be far off.”
“How wonderful that would be,” Ruth exclaimed excitedly.
“Shall we head home?” Robert put his hand out for Ruth’s.
“Edward, it’s so late, would you like to stay over?” she asked, given that their house was nearby and his apartment a long ride on the El.
“I wouldn’t want to impose.” Edward looked at them sheepishly as he flipped his hair from his face.
“Nonsense, we insist!” Robert smiled, patting his young partner on the back in reassurance as they walked out of Ruth’s office.
Ruth had a spring in her step as the three of them exited the building together. Finally, she felt like everything in her life was falling into place.
Chapter Twelve
Ruth flinched as Penelope walked into the recreation room. For several months she had really seemed to be improving, but today, the already-slight woman looked positively skeletal, and Ruth could see scratches on her face from across the room. Ruth stood, trying to hide her disappointment and fear as Penelope made her way closer to the bay window, her favorite seat, for their weekly game of chess.
“Hello, Penny!” Ruth tried to sound light, deciding not to draw any more attention to Penelope’s caved-in cheekbones or the deep gashes on her face. She glanced at Penny’s fingernails to see if they were long enough to make such marks, and noticed her cuticles were raw and bloody, her hands cracked and dry.
“Stop looking at me!” Penelope snapped.
“Oh, Penny, I am sorry. I am just concerned. Does your face hurt? Have you been eating like we talked about?”
“Stop with all the questions!” Penelope dragged the chair from the small game table with such force that several of the other patients turned to see what caused the commotion. “What are you all looking at?”
“Penny—calm down.” Ruth tried to keep her tone firm but soothing. “You know you can’t be in here if you behave that way.” She felt her stomach tightening as she flashed back to visits with her brother when his behavior was unexpectedly hostile. “I’ve been looking forward to our game all week. I even practiced with my husband so, perhaps, you wouldn’t be able to beat me so terribly this time.” Ruth smiled falsely as she started to line up her pieces on her side of the board. Penelope silently arranged hers as well. “Penny, have I done something to upset you?”
“Just play.” Ruth had never seen Penelope behave this way. It was as if all the progress she had made in her time at Emeraldine had disappeared, and then some. She had never seen Penelope in worse shape. She refused to accept the backslide.
“Since you were last week’s winner, you choose whether to take the opening move or not.” Ruth kept her tone steady and upbeat, a skill she had long ago perfected during visits with Harry. Penelope slid her pawn out one space in petulant silence. “I have a feeling you are trying to draw me out already. You are very clever. That’s why I love to play with you.” Ruth looked up at Penelope and reached to gently pat her arm, testing to see if her anger had abated.
“Take your turn.” Penelope withdrew her arm to dodge Ruth’s touch. Ruth moved her pawn out two spaces. “I knew you’d do that.”
Ruth wouldn’t have been surprised if Penelope stuck her tongue out; her behavior today was that childlike.
As their game continued, Ruth grew increasingly concerned. Had Ruth failed her? They had tried every tool available, even psychoanalysis, and still Penelope deteriorated. Ruth had been sure that her patience and steady presence combined with the latest developments in treatment would cure Penelope. She was a smart and well-off woman who just needed help getting control of herself again. Yet, here she was, clearly not eating, tearing apart her own body, and nothing Ruth had done had made a difference.
“Perhaps you are tired today. Maybe we should stop playing and go for a stroll. Or do you want to take a rest?”
“NO!” Penelope yelled. “JUST GO!”
“You want me to leave?” Ruth recoiled slightly.
“No!” Penelope started picking the chessmen off the board and throwing them at Ruth. “I”—she threw a pawn, which bounced off Ruth’s chest—“meant”—the knight hit Ruth’s shoulder—“make your move! But you ruined it!” Rook, queen, and king all came at Ruth’s face rapid-fire, clipping her cheek, and two orderlies ran over, forcefully grabbing Penelope to immobilize her.
“It’s all right, I’m okay.” Ruth stood, holding her cheek, where one of the pieces had made a small gash. “Penny.” She looked sharply at the woman. “You need to go have a rest.” Turning to the orderlies, she said quietly, “Please be sure someone stays with her. I will send the doctor shortly.”
“I spent three hours this afternoon reading diagnostic profiles for Penelope’s condition, and I am still not sure what is causing her to decompensate this way,” Ruth lamented to Robert and Edward over dinner in the small garden behind their townhouse. “She’s becoming angrier and more self-destructive. Her obsessive and manic episodes continue to intensify, in spite of adding fever chambers and metrazol-induced shock to her treatment regimen. How can none of this be helping her condition to improve?”