True Places(15)

Suzanne exited the elevator and checked in at the nurses’ station. A nurse whose badge identified her as Lani entered Suzanne’s name into the computer and pointed down the corridor.

“Fourth on the right.”

“Is she doing okay?”

Lani rocked her hand back and forth. “Physically, she’s improving. But the poor kid really doesn’t want to be here.”

Suzanne showed the nurse the tote bag she was carrying. “I brought her some things. Hope that’s okay.”

“As long as it’s nothing dangerous, you’re fine.”

Suzanne made her way along the corridor, winding past wheelchairs, stretchers, and a crash cart. She’d been concerned about Iris since the police had called yesterday with an update. How could that tiny girl have survived for so long in the woods all by herself? And why would her parents have chosen to raise her without any contact with civilization? The detective had sounded skeptical, and Suzanne could see why. Then again, many parents had done stranger, more damaging things to their children, and at least Iris’s parents seemed to have been adhering to some sort of philosophy. Suzanne was the first to admit she had no parenting philosophy she could articulate. There didn’t seem to be time for top-down thinking; it was a minor miracle to arrive at the close of the day without significant mishap, take a deep breath, down a glass of wine, and get ready to do it all over again the next day. She had been disturbed to hear from the detective that Iris had tried to run out of the hospital. Suzanne had wanted to ask what would happen to Iris once she didn’t need hospital care, but realized she knew the answer: either a family member would turn up, or the girl would go into foster care.

Iris was hunched in a ball on the bed with her arms around her shins and her cheek resting on a knee, facing the window.

“Iris.” Suzanne spoke quietly. “It’s me, Suzanne.” She came to stand at the foot of the bed.

The girl’s tidy appearance surprised Suzanne, although she should have expected it. With the dirt gone, the myriad scars and scratches on her limbs were obvious. A half-moon of white circled the lower edge of her left kneecap; another sliced across her right thumb, and the pinky toe on her right foot was gone. Her bones protruded everywhere, as if trying to escape the bonds of her skin. A wave of pity flowed through Suzanne.

“Do you mind if I stay a little while?”

Iris turned to her. Her eyes were beautiful but brimmed with sadness. “No. I don’t mind.”

Suzanne took a seat on the couch under the window and placed the bag at her feet. “You might not know this, but you’re not the only one who doesn’t like hospitals.”

Iris blinked at her.

“Actually, most people can’t stand them.”

“Why?”

“Well, first of all, it’s boring. Unless you love watching television, there’s nothing to do.”

Iris nodded.

Suzanne opened her tote. “I brought you these.” She handed Iris a coloring book and a box of colored pencils. “Did you color when you were small?”

“A little.”

“These are for adults. It’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Iris opened the coloring book and leafed through it, frowning. Maybe she didn’t understand what it was for, or maybe it seemed pointless. Pointlessness was its attraction, but how could Suzanne explain that?

Iris closed the book and ran her finger across the half-colored-in cover. “Do you color?”

Suzanne laughed. “Me? God no. I haven’t got time.” She dug in her bag again. “The other problem with this place is it’s never quiet, is it? Machines, people talking, doors closing . . .” She pulled a cell phone out of the bag and explained what it was.

Iris said, “Everyone seems to have one.”

“Right. But you don’t need to worry about everything it can do. I brought it so you could listen with these.” She held up a set of noise-canceling headphones.

“Listen to what?”

“Whatever you want. There’s music on here, all sorts. But I also loaded it with some nature sound clips, sounds from the woods.”

Iris beckoned with her hand. “Show me.”

Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed and demonstrated how to operate the phone. The girl was reluctant at first; perhaps she’d been told technology was evil. Suzanne helped her find the nature clips, then watched Iris’s face as she listened. The girl closed her eyes and leaned against the pillow.

Suzanne returned to the couch and studied the girl. Iris was so strange, so dislocated from the world in which she now found herself. Suzanne was curious about what she was experiencing, what she knew and felt, and how she would adjust to the flood of information impinging on her. Clearly Iris was frightened and overwhelmed. Who wouldn’t be? And she was alone. She was used to it, Suzanne reasoned, but being used to something is not the same as wanting it. A person can avoid something—in the case of Iris and her parents, the civilized world—and in doing so make it “other” and inherently terrifying. Suzanne understood this all too well. She could not be alone, had not been able to be alone since she was twenty-two, not without the risk of a panic attack. Avoidance reinforces itself.

Suzanne twisted to look across the treetops and roofs to the rolling hills and the mountains beyond. She imagined Iris wandering along the ridges, drinking from the streams, searching for food, sleeping on the forest floor, untethered and unaccountable to anyone but herself. Now Suzanne imagined not Iris but herself, alone in the woods. The thought made her heart beat faster, and for an instant she wasn’t certain whether it was from fear or excitement.