Where'd You Go, Bernadette(27)
“I’m curious about the medicine they wouldn’t fill for you at the pharmacy.”
“I know!” she said. “A doctor wrote me a prescription, and it turned out to be Haldol.”
“Is it your insomnia?” I asked. “Haven’t you been sleeping?”
“Sleep?” she asked. “What’s that?”
“What was the prescription for?”
“Anxiety,” she said.
“Are you seeing a psychiatrist?” I asked.
“No!”
“Do you want to see a psychiatrist?”
“God, no!” she said. “I’m just anxious about the trip.”
“What specifically are you so anxious about?”
“The Drake Passage, people. You know how it is.”
“Actually,” I said, “I don’t.”
“There’s going to be a lot of people. I’m not good when exposed to people.”
“I think we need to find someone you can talk to.”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“A professional,” I said.
“I tried that once. It was a complete waste.” She leaned in and whispered. “OK, there’s a guy in a suit standing at the window. This is the fourth time I’ve seen him in three days. And I will promise you one thing. If you look now, he won’t be there.”
I turned around. A man in a suit disappeared down the sidewalk.
“What did I say?” she said.
“Are you telling me you’re being followed?”
“It’s unclear.”
Fishing vests, sleeping in public, antipsychotic medication, and now men following her?
When Bee was two, she developed a strange attachment to a novelty book Bernadette and I had bought years ago from a street vendor in Rome.
ROME Past and Present
A Guide
To the Monumental Centre of Ancient Rome
With Reconstructions of the Monuments
It has photographs of present-day ruins, with overlays of how they looked in their heyday. Bee would sit in her hospital bed, hooked up to her monitors, and flip back and forth among the images. The book had a puffy red plastic cover that she’d chew on.
I realized I was now looking at Bernadette Past and Present. There was a terrifying chasm between the woman I fell in love with and the ungovernable one sitting across from me.
We returned home. While Bernadette slept, I opened her medicine cabinet. It was crammed with prescription bottles written by an array of doctors for Xanax, Klonopin, Ambien, Halcion, trazodone, and others. All the bottles were empty.
Dr. Kurtz, I don’t pretend to understand what’s wrong with Bernadette. Is she depressed? Manic? Hooked on pills? Paranoid? I don’t know what constitutes a mental breakdown. Whatever you want to call it, I think it’s fair to say my wife is in need of serious attention.
Hannah Dillard spoke so highly of you specifically, Dr. Kurtz, and all you did to help Frank though his rough patch. If I remember correctly, at the outset Frank was resistant to treatment, but he soon embraced your program. Hannah was so impressed that she’s now a member of your board.
Bernadette, Bee, and I are scheduled to go to Antarctica in two weeks. Bernadette obviously does not want to go. I now think it might be a better idea if Bee and I go to Antarctica, just the two of us, while Bernadette checks into Madrona Hill. I can’t imagine Bernadette will be too keen on the idea, but it’s clear to me she needs some supervised R&R. I am anxious to hear your thoughts.
Sincerely,
Elgin Branch
PART TWO
Bernadette Past and Present
Architecture competition sponsored by the Green Builders of America
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:
Green Builders of America and the Turner Foundation announce: 20 × 20 × 20: The Twenty Mile House Twenty Years Later Twenty Years in the Future
Deadline for submission: February 1
Bernadette Fox’s Twenty Mile House no longer stands. There are few photos of it, and Ms. Fox is purported to have destroyed all plans. Still, its relevance grows with each passing year. To celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the Twenty Mile House, the Green Builders of America, in conjunction with the Turner Foundation, invite architects, students, and builders to submit designs to reenvision and rebuild the Twenty Mile House and, in doing so, open a dialogue for what it means to “build green” in the next twenty years.
The challenge: Submit plans for a 3-bedroom, 4,200-sf single-family residence at 6528 Mulholland Drive in Los Angeles. The only restriction is the one Ms. Fox placed on herself: Every material used must come from within twenty miles of the building site.
The winner: Will be announced at the GBA/AIA gala at the Getty Center and be awarded a $40,000 prize.
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 11
From Paul Jellinek, professor of architecture at USC,
to the guy Mom ran into on the street outside the library
Jacob, Because you’ve taken an interest in Bernadette Fox, here’s a bit of a hagiography from the not-yet-published February issue of Artforum. They asked me to vet it for glaring mistakes. In case you have an impulse to contact the writer with news of your Bernadette Fox sighting, please don’t. Bernadette has obviously made a choice to get lost, and it seems to me we should respect it.