An Anonymous Girl(15)
My parents are going to run out of money eventually. I should stock-pile as much of it as I can now. And if I turn Dr. Shields down, maybe he’ll find another subject, one with more flexibility.
Even I recognize that I’m coming up with too many rationalizations.
I pull out my phone and respond to Dr. Shields: Anytime Sat or Sun works great for me.
Almost immediately, I see the three dots that mean he is writing a response. A moment later, I read it: Wonderful. You are confirmed for noon on Saturday. Same location.
CHAPTER
EIGHT
Saturday, November 24
You have no idea how eagerly your third session has been anticipated, Subject 52.
You look as lovely as ever, but your manner is subdued. After you enter Room 214, you slowly slip out of your coat and place it on the back of your chair. It hangs unevenly, but you don’t adjust it. You sit down heavily and hesitate before you touch the Enter key to begin.
Were you lonely on Thanksgiving, too?
Once the first query appears and you open your thoughts, your true nature asserts itself and you grow more animated.
You are learning to enjoy the process, aren’t you?
When the fourth question emerges, your fingers move across the keyboard swiftly. Your posture is excellent. You do not fidget. This all indicates that you have especially strong and clear feelings on this par-ticular subject.
You see your friend’s fiancé kiss another woman a week before the wed-ding. Do you tell her?
What I’d do is this, you type. I’d confront him and say that he has 24 hours to confess, or I’ll tell her myself. It would be one thing if he were with his buddies at a bachelor party at a strip club and he put a twenty in a G-string. A lot of guys do that sort of stuff for show. But outside of a situation like that, there isn’t any excuse. I couldn’t look the other way and pretend I didn’t see it. Because if a guy cheats once, you know he’s going to do it again.
After you write those words, you stop typing, hit Enter, and wait for the next question.
It doesn’t immediately appear.
A minute passes.
Is everything okay? You type.
Another minute passes.
A response is crafted: Just a moment, please.
You look puzzled, but you nod.
Your answer is absolute: It seems you believe humans are incapable of reshaping their innate natures, even when their urges lead to pain and destruction.
Your furrowed brow and slightly narrowed eyes illustrate the depth of your convictions.
Because if a guy cheats once, you know he’s going to do it again.
You are waiting for the next question. But it isn’t forthcoming.
Your responses have formed an unexpected connection; when linked together, they create an epiphany.
The vital lines in your previous answers are reviewed:
I’m not looking for a serious relationship. You typed this in your second session.
You twist around and peer at the clock on the wall behind you, then you look toward the door. From every angle, you are enchanting.
I hope it’s okay if I break the rules. You wrote these words before you confided that this study is reshaping your relationship with your own morality.
You fiddle with the silver stacking rings on your index finger as you frown at the computer screen. This is one of your habits when you are being thoughtful, or experiencing anxiety.
I really need money, you wrote in your first session.
Something extraordinary is occurring.
It is as though you are now guiding the study into a different realm. You, the young woman who wasn’t supposed to be a part of it at all.
You are presented with two more questions. They are out of se-quence, but you won’t know this.
You reply to them both confidently. Flawlessly.
The final query you will receive today is one no other subject will ever see.
It has been developed expressly for you.
When it appears, your eyes widen as they fly across the screen.
Answer it one way, and you will walk out of this room and you won’t return.
But if you answer it another way, the possibilities are endless; you could become a pioneer in the field of psychological research.
It is a gamble, posing this query.
You are worth the risk.
You don’t reply immediately. You push back your chair and stand up.
Then you disappear.
Your footsteps rap against the linoleum floor. You briefly come into view, then you vanish again.
You are pacing.
Now the roles have been upended: You are the one causing a delay. You are also the one who will decide whether this study will undergo a metamorphosis.
You return to your seat and lean forward. Your eyes flit across the screen as you read the question once more.
Would you consider expanding your participation in this study? The compensation would be significantly higher, but significantly more would be asked of you.
Slowly, you lift your hands and begin to type.
I’ll do it.
CHAPTER
NINE
Saturday, November 24
Everything started off the same for my third session: Ben waiting in the lobby in a navy V-neck sweater. The empty classroom. A laptop on a desk in the first row, the words Welcome Back, Subject 52 floating on the screen.
I was almost looking forward to answering Dr. Shields’s questions this afternoon; maybe it was the possibility of unloading my tangled feelings after my visit home.