Bridgeport: Present Day
Annabella looks visibly agitated when Dr Drake enters the room. She jumped up immediately and starts to approach him as he enters the door.
“Why do you keep me locked up in here? I didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t keep me here against my will.” She said accusingly.
He turns around to close the door behind him and can feel her eyes burning on his back. He can sense she is ready for a fight and braces himself for her outburst.
He turns around and looks at her patiently. “It’s not really a matter of locking you in Annabella, it’s more like we’re locking the rest of the ward out. It’s for your own safety. Trust me.” He said calmly.
“And you’re absolutely right” he continues “you didn’t do anything wrong and the hospital management wants me to sign your release papers today. After our session you may leave. You are under no obligation to receive any further treatment”. He states, studying her reaction closely.
She turns away from him and stares at the wall. She looks so vulnerable standing there – it makes him feel incredibly helpless and the meeting with the hospital chief-of-staff this morning briefly enters his thoughts. He suddenly feels angry again. The same old argument – budget cuts – bumping patients to free space for more serious cases – if they do their homework it is most likely that the more serious cases are exactly those that were bumped because they were not insane enough according to the Bridgeport Government criteria. But despite his anger Benjamin remains calm.
“Nothing stops you Annabella, from continuing our sessions as an outpatient.” He suggests. “I sense you still have a lot of unresolved issues to deal with. I can help you. If you want.”
She didn’t say anything. Just nodded slightly.
“You know that as long as you are a patient of mine you have the full privilege of doctor-patient confidentiality – nothing you say during our consultations will or can ever leave this room”.
She turns around again and looks at him blankly. Her features weren’t flawless, but the way they fit together invited Benjamin to stare and study her. She didn’t say anything. Just continued to stare at him.
“Do you know why they transferred you here from the general hospital Annabella? Do you remember? He asked.
“Yes”. She said softly.
“You repeatedly told the nurse you would do it again and again until you succeed. Do you remember saying that Annabella?”
She nodded. “Yes. I remember”.
“Do you still feel the same way?”
She managed a grimace, which would pass for a smile if you looked closely. She knew that was what he wanted to see right now.
“When you die you don’t get to see if anyone misses you. You don’t get to see if anyone cries at your funeral. You don’t get second chances – you’re final word and you don’t get to see if anyone listens … all that effort and you don’t get to see the result.” She answered.
“That’s true, although that was supposed to be my line” he says with a feint smile “so if you realize this, what made you rent a grubby hotel room and swallow a handful of sleeping pills?”
Her lips parted slightly to say something but then she closed them again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He pushed a little.
She was silent long enough for him to start mentally kicking himself.
“I just don’t want to live anymore”. She answered genuinely. Her voice cracked and she blinked back the tears.
“Annabella I can tell you are devastated. Don’t work so hard to hide it from me. Do you trust me?”
She nods. Tears fell and her nose started to run. “I’m sorry” she apologized and wiped her tears with the back of her hand.
“You don’t have to apologize. Take your time” and he reaches for the box of tissues on her side table and hands it to her. She takes one tissue from the box and wipes off the rest of her tears. “Your well-being is my of utmost concern Annabella. I don’t know what happened that made you so sad and I want to work with you to help you see things from a different perspective.” He smiles sympathetically. “And that is why I am here”.
“Tell me about your father Annabella”. He notices the tension in her mouth and eyes, but continues anyway.
“Have you ever tried to find out where he is – or tried to contact him?” He asked.
“I found him.”
He sees the look on her face intensifies, brimming with self-destructiveness and self-hate.
“Tell me about him.” He said, looking at her with interest. “Start with how you managed to find him.”
She stared at the wall again and then looked back at him.
“When my mother died I had to go through some of her personal effects to see if she’d left a will – she didn’t - big surprise.” She said rolling her eyes.
“I did find something that interested me though. Something I found strange at the time and only later came to realize how significant it was”. She paused as if she was reconsidering her new-found trust in Benjamin.
He waited patiently for her to continue.
“All of them contained articles about the same man – a young aspiring politician – most of the pictures were too small and faded to make out the face properly, but the titles all belonged to the same person – Frank Stellar. At first I couldn’t figure out what my mother’s infatuation with the man was – to me she was incapable of love and for her to have some sort of crush on a celebrity figure seemed too outrageous – until one day when I opened the newspaper – a full front-page photo and accompanying article of him announcing that he would be running for Mayor of Bridgeport.
The face staring back at me from the newspaper could easily have been a male version of myself. At best I thought it was just a distant relative because his last name was different. I did some research on him. Google didn’t have much information, apart from his political views and some information on his educational history, the rest was pretty random paparazzi stuff.” She paused briefly, taking a deep breath.
She looked down at her hands. She was fidgeting with an elastic band that apparently snapped - twisting and untwisting it around her thumb.
“It never even crossed my mind that he could be my father until I hacked into some archived files of Twinbrook High. He used to be a student there – he was expelled after a disciplinary enquiry – impregnating another student – Ann Marie Stirling – my mother.
It was a piece of cake to find his address. I figured he would have an unlisted number since he was running for public office, but I found out he worked at the Law Reform Commission in Bridgeport – so I hacked into the human resources files there.
That’s why I came here. To see him.”
“And did you find him? Did you manage to meet him?” Benjamin asked.
She continues to fidget with the piece of elastic between her fingers.
“Yes. I finally got up the courage to meet him” she said disappointed.
Bridgeport: 3 Weeks ago
Annabella was wearing the prettiest outfit she could find in her closet. She changed her hair – blonde - when she moved to the city a year ago, tired of her own reddish-brown hair colour and the stylist assured her it was the latest trend.
Her taxi pulled into the driveway. She noticed no cars were parked at the front. On the lawn there was a toddler’s toy. She couldn’t take her eyes of it. Somehow she didn’t imagine him having other children and a family. She smoothes her skirt down and takes a deep breath – How do you walk into someone’s life after all these years?
She walks up to the front door and starts to wonder - What am I thinking? After all these years dropping in like this without notice? He is quite the public figure surely he would have secret agents or vicious dogs around here somewhere?
She was standing at the front door trying to get up the courage to knock when it suddenly opened. The man from the newspaper stood there. He had brown hair with little streaks of grey, a Roman nose and the same colour eyes as hers. He looked young for his age.
By this time her emotions were hanging by a thread.
Through the open doorway she heard the delighted shrieks of a child being tickled.
Then he says: “Can I help you?” His voice was deep and warm and inviting.
“I am Annabella Stirling” she said “Marie Stirling’s daughter ….. Your daughter.”
There was an uncomfortable silence and then a woman’s voice calling from the kitchen “who is it honey?”
He looked incredibly uncomfortable. She could imagine that he’d be distressed to be confronted by his daughter who he had abandoned before she was born.
“What are you doing here?” The warmth in his voice suddenly absent. He reached back and closed the door so Annabella couldn’t see his family life anymore.
“I wanted to meet you. Thought maybe you wanted to meet me too.” She replied.
He drew a breath.
“Look….. this really isn’t a good time …. I’m running for political office” his voice trails off.
“It’s just … you’ve come at a bad time. I have to avoid bad publicity at the moment and you showing up like this ….. look, I’m sorry …. This is just a complication I cannot afford”.
Annabella tries to breathe. She didn’t know what to expect from her initial meeting with her father. She pictured this day – stealing bits and pieces of other people’s happy lives and trying to paste them all together to form that picture perfect reunion. She realized quickly to snap out of it and see things for what they really were: Two strangers meeting each other for the first time. In none of her imaginings was he a total stranger. She realized that if he is made out of dreams, anything real is bound to disappoint you.
He reached inside his pocket, took out his wallet and peeled a couple of clean, crisp bills away from the rest.
“Take this” he says, pushing the bills into her damp palms.
“Will this do?”
His words were burning a path up her throat, but she manages not to cry.
“Look” he says, hesitating at the door “after the elections we can have lunch?” And he slipped inside without a further word.
Annabella was speechless. She heard the electronic gates opening – her cue to leave – as she starts walking down Imperial Road – she slowly opens her hand, letting the crisp notes fall on the sidewalk not even once looking back to witness the wind blow them away like dry autumn leaves.
