The Death of Addie Gray Page 4

  We kneel on either side of the spilled fruit salad and start mopping up the juice.

  “So Rob was talking to John last night,” she continues, “and he said...” She pauses, as if she's worried about broaching the subject. “Well, Rob mentioned that Addie's been saying some weird stuff since she woke up.”

  “Oh, that,” I reply, forcing a smile. “It's nothing.”

  “He said she keeps asking for someone with some weird name.”

  “She's just confused. It's natural after she was unconscious for so long.”

  “And he said she claims she isn't Addie.”

  “She's acting out,” I mutter, finding that the towels aren't really doing a great job of absorbing the liquid on the floor. “She's been through a huge ordeal, and I guess she's not sure how to deal with it. Once she gets home, we'll be able to give her a more stable environment, without all those doctors and nurses poking her all the time.” I pause for a moment. “I think she had these crazy dreams and now she's struggling to separate them from reality. Maybe they even seem more real than the world around her.”

  “And that's been going on ever since she woke up?”

  “It'll pass.”

  When I glance at her, I can see that she's not convinced.

  “And letting her come home tomorrow seems kind of early, doesn't it?” she points out.

  “There's nothing wrong with her,” I reply, trying not to let it show that I'm finding her constant questions a little grating. “All the preliminary scans have shown that she's doing much better. Doctor Andrews won't admit it yet, but I think he's starting to doubt his handling of her case. This time just a few days ago, he was still trying to persuade us to switch off the machines and let her... Well, you know what I mean. If we'd listened to him, Addie would never have woken up. She wouldn't have been given the chance.”

  “I just hope she gets back to normal soon,” Diane mutters. “From what Rob told John, it sounds like she's acting pretty weird.”

  “She's just a child,” I point out, bristling a little at that description of my little girl.

  “Have you thought about taking her to a child psychologist?”

  “She doesn't need that.”

  “But if -”

  “She's not crazy,” I add, hoping to shut down that side of the conversation.

  “No-one's saying she's crazy, but...” She pauses for a moment. “I mean, it does sound like she's not entirely back to normal. If she's got some kind of mental illness, it'd be better to -”

  “She's not -”

  Before I can finish, I feel a flash of pain in my right hand, and when I look down I see that I've cut my palm on a piece of broken glass. Muttering a few dark words under my breath, I get to my feet and head to the sink, where I run the gash under the faucet.

  “I didn't mean to upset you,” Diane says after a moment.

  “It's fine,” I reply through gritted teeth, watching as blood mixes with water and swirls down the sink.

  “I just meant that... It might take a while before Addie's back to normal, that's all. Especially if there's some kind of brain injury that the doctors haven't spotted yet. You need to be prepared for her to not go back to normal right away. Or...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “Or what?” I ask, turning the faucet off and checking the wound on my hand.

  “Well, she might not ever...”

  She sighs.

  “You know what I'm trying to say. And I'm being insensitive. I'm sorry, Erica, why don't we -”

  “I have to get to the hospital,” I reply tersely, turning to her. “Sorry. Maybe we can do this another time.”

  She seems a little surprised. “Oh. Well... Sure, but do -”

  “We'll be very busy for the next few days,” I add, “but I can give you a call once Addie's properly settled again. I don't know how long that'll take. I'll let you know.”

  Clearly getting the message, she stands and starts drying her hands on one of the towels.

  “I'm sure Addie'll be fine,” she says after a moment.

  “Of course she will,” I reply, forcing a smile. “We've got her back now, and that was the hardest part. Everything else will be much easier.” I pause for a moment, before glancing out toward the yard. “We should get some new patio furniture,” I continue, lost in thought. “Something brighter and happier.”

  Erica

  “Does it have to make so much noise?” I ask as I watch Addie sliding into an MRI machine that's constantly emitting loud banging noises. “It's going to scare her.”

  “Don't worry, Mrs. Gray,” Doctor Radford replies as he adjusts one of the monitors in the control room, “Addie's a very brave little girl. She'll be fine. The machine has to make that noise, it's part of how it works.”

  “You can't turn it down?”

  “Sorry.”

  “This is completely unnecessary, anyway,” I mutter, aware that I'm overreacting a little but unable to do anything to stop myself. “I don't know what you're expecting to see. She's fine.”

  “Hello Addie,” the doctor says, leaning toward a microphone. “How are you doing in there?”

  He waits, but there's no reply.

  “Addie,” he continues, “this is Doctor Radford. Can you hear me?”

  Looking at one of the monitors, I see a black-and-white video feed showing Addie blinking as she stares up at the roof of the machine. The loud banging noise is continuing, and I hate the idea of her being in there. I just want to get her away from all these people who keep poking her and testing her.

  “Can you hear my voice?” Doctor Radford continues, tapping the microphone. “Addie?”

  “I'm not Addie,” she replies suddenly, her voice sounding so small and defenseless inside that large, loud machine, “but I can hear you.”

  “The machine you're in is -”

  “You already explained,” she adds. “I understand. I'd just like to get out as quickly as possible.”

  “Mommy's here,” I tell her, leaning toward the microphone. “Just be brave and you'll be out of there in a few minutes.”

  I wait, and after a moment I hear a faint sigh from inside the machine.

  “Can we get this over with?” I ask, turning to Doctor Radford. “I know you won't find anything, so just do whatever you need to do. She's already had so many tests since she woke up. We want to take her home today.”

  ***

  “As you know,” Doctor Andrews says later as we sit in his office, “the initial bruising was the most serious issue, but the latest MRI images show, essentially, a healthy brain. In fact, I'm rather amazed by the lack of damage.”

  Smiling, I reach out and take hold of Addie's hand.

  “Did year that, honey?” I ask, avoiding using her name in case she denies being Addie again. “You've got a clean bill of health.”

  She stares at me for a moment, before turning back to look at the images from the MRI scan.

  “Those are inside my head?” she asks cautiously, as if the idea is almost too strange to comprehend.

  Doctor Andrews nods. “We used them to look for damage to your brain, Addie.”

  She tilts her head slightly, still looking at the images. “That's my brain?”

  “It is indeed.”

  “What are those dark patches?”

  “They're just part of your brain's natural shape. Each of these images shows a slice, so there are variations in the tone of the different shots.”

  “But where -” She pauses for a moment. “Where's my mind?”

  He smiles. “Well, Addie, that's a very complex question and I'm not sure we can really answer it. The short version is that different parts of your brain have different roles to play when it comes to forming and sustaining your consciousness. Quite where and how the soul resides, if the soul even exists, is probably not something we'll ever be able to answer in medical terms.” He pauses, clearly a little amused by her questions. “I can have copies of all these pictures put onto a CD for you
if you like, and then you can look at them when you get home.”

  “What's a CD?”

  “You know what a CD is,” I tell her.

  “It means you can take the pictures with you,” Doctor Andrews adds. “Your parents can show you how to view them on a computer. Would you like that?”

  She pauses, as if she still doesn't understand, but finally she nods.

  “Speaking of which,” I say after a moment, “we can take her home today, can't we?”

  Doctor Andrews pauses, as if he's a little reluctant. “I see no reason to keep her here,” he says finally. “As I mentioned a moment ago, there's nothing to indicate any ongoing physical damage. She's up and about, walking and talking, and although I'd like to check up on her at regular intervals, I think it might be good for her to go home and get used to her life again. I think that process might help with some of the more unusual...”

  His voice trails off for a moment.

  “Then I guess we should get going,” I say with a smile, holding Addie's hand firmly as I get to my feet. “Come on, honey. We need to grab the things from your room.”

  “Where am you taking me?” she asks.

  “Home.”

  She stares at me with a flicker of concern. “Where?”

  “Home,” I tell her again. “With Mommy and Daddy.”

  “You're not -” She pauses, before turning back to Doctor Andrews. “Can I talk to you in private for a moment?” she asks him.

  He frowns.

  “There's no need for that,” I mutter, stepping toward the door but stopping, still holding her hand, when she fails to get up and follow. “Addie, let's just go pack up your room.”

  “I'm not Addie,” she replies, turning to me.

  “Addie -”

  “I'm not Addie!”

  “Can we not do this now?” I ask with a sigh, before turning to Doctor Andrews. “I just need to get her home to a familiar environment, and she'll start settling back in.”

  “Let me talk to her alone for a moment,” he replies.

  “Is that really necessary?”

  “Just for a couple of minutes,” he adds. “I think it might be very helpful for her.”

  I pause, just wanting to drag her out of the office and then out of the hospital, but after a moment I feel her slipping her hand free from mine.

  “I need to talk to the doctor alone,” she continues, staring at me with a hint of frustration. “I should be allowed to do that, shouldn't I?”

  ***

  “She asked again about this Jesophat person,” Doctor Andrews tells me a short while later, as we stand in the corridor outside Addie's room. “She's very insistent about a couple of matters, and I also get the feeling that she's deliberately holding back certain information. She seems extremely lucid.”

  “Is that all she said while you were alone with her?” I ask, glancing into the room and watching as Addie sits patiently next to her turned-down bed.

  “She continues to claim that she's not Addie,” he replies. “I asked who she thinks she is, but that's when she seemed to get a little less sure of herself. Like I said, I felt as if she wasn't telling me everything. There's a lot going on in that mind of hers.”

  “But it's a fantasy, right? It's something she invented while she was in the coma.” I wait for him to reply. “It has to be. It was part of the dream she was having when she was in a coma for nine months.”

  “Patients don't dream while they're in comas,” he explains. “Maybe when they're emerging from that state and starting to wake up, but not for the duration of the coma itself.”

  “Maybe Addie's different.”

  He sighs.

  “It's the only explanation that makes sense,” I point out.

  “I want you to take this,” he says, slipping a business card into my hand. “Edward Sawyer is one of the most effective child psychologists I know, and I think -”

  “Addie doesn't need to see a psychologist.”

  “I think it might be good for her.”

  “She'll stop this nonsense as soon as she gets home.”

  “But if she doesn't -”

  “She will! She's not sick, not anymore!”

  He sighs. “Just take the card, Mrs. Gray, and don't be afraid to give Dr. Sawyer a call. It's no reflection on your parenting skills if Addie needs to talk to someone, especially after everything she's been through. She's still being a little vague about what she remembers from her life before the accident. It might be healthy for her to explore her memories with a professional.”

  Slipping the card into my pocket, even though I'm absolutely certain I won't need it, I glance through at Addie again. For a moment, our eyes meet and I see her staring at me with a calm, glassy expression. I swear, since she woke up she hasn't once shown any real need for love or affection. She hasn't grabbed my hand when she's scared, or hidden behind me the way she used to whenever she saw a doctor, or even asked me for a cuddle. For a few seconds, as she continues to stare at me, I almost find myself believing that it's not Addie at all, that someone else is looking at me from behind my daughter's face.

  “She'll be fine,” I continue, turning to Doctor Andrews. “I know it. Once we get her into a more familiar environment, she'll be absolutely fine.”

  PART TWO

  DENSBERG, MICHIGAN

  TODAY

  Erica

  “Welcome home, honey,” I say as I step into the hallway. Turning, I see that Addie is still fiddling with my phone, which I gave her to play with during the drive from the hospital. “Honey? Welcome home.”

  “This thing is like magic,” she mutters, tapping at the phone. “It's hard to believe...”

  “There'll be time for that later,” I continue, taking the phone from her and guiding her inside before shutting the door. “You're home. Doesn't that feel good?”

  She looks around the hallway for a moment, but there's no sign that she's relieved to be back. A moment later, the AC machine switches on, causing a faint hissing sound.

  Addie steps back, as if she's scared.

  “That's just the AC,” I point out. “You remember the AC, don't you?”

  “Hell, no,” she replies.

  “What did you say?”

  She pauses. “I mean... I'm not sure.”

  “Let's tone the language down just a little, okay?” I tell her.

  “This house is beautiful,” she replies, as if she's genuinely shocked. Heading to the window, she peers out at the yard. “You have a white picket fence.”

  “It's kind of corny,” I tell her, “but... I don't know, I guess I just always wanted one. Maybe I drank the Kool-Aid a little too much as a kid.”

  She turns to me with a hint of awe in her eyes.

  “It's not the biggest house in the world,” I continue, “but we're lucky to have a lovely, safe, warm home.” I watch as she wanders across the hallway and into the kitchen, where she stops as if once again she's genuinely shocked. “Remember when we got the kitchen remodeled a couple of years ago?” I ask, hoping to jog her memory a little. “The old one was a kind of lime green, and I never really liked it very much. I always wanted something sleeker, like this. More modern, you know? So we saved up, skipped a family vacation one year, and then we went to the showroom at the mall and picked out a new kitchen together, as a family.”

  She turns to me.

  “Do you remember that, honey?” I ask.

  I wait, but still she doesn't reply.

  “Do you remember the mall? You always loved going to the mall.”

  “Are you rich?”

  “Rich?” I smile. “No, honey, we're not rich.”

  “But your house...” She looks around. “It's like a palace!”

  “It's really not. It's just a normal house, like all the others on the block.”

  Wandering over to the patio doors, she looks out at the back yard.

  “Do you want to play?” I ask. “Do you remember all the times you used to play out there? It's a bi
t of a mess right now, we let it go a little, but we're going to sort it out. I was thinking of ordering a new table and chairs, just to spruce it all up.”

  “You're so lucky,” she says after a moment, turning to me. “You've got everything a person could want.”

  “I've got you back,” I reply, heading over and tousling the hair on top of her head. I swear, I could burst into tears again, but I manage to keep myself under control. “That's all that matters.”

  ***

  “It's your favorite,” I tell her as I set a plate of sliders on the table. “I figured you should have something you really like for your first dinner back at home.”

  “Is it meat?” she asks.

  “Is it meat?” Rob laughs, already taking some and putting them on his own plate. “Maybe you really aren't Addie, not if you don't remember what sliders are!”

  “Don't joke about that,” I whisper, nudging his foot under the table.

  Cautiously, Addie takes a slider and examines it for a moment, before taking a bite. There's an immediate look of shock in her eyes as she chews.

  “It tastes weird,” she mutters, before setting the meat down.

  “They taste damn good,” Rob replies, with his mouth full. “Pretty good for you, too. I mean, I know people go on about stuff like that, but these things aren't unhealthy, not if you only eat them every so often.” He grabs the ketchup bottle. “You just have to make sure you have them with vegetables. Like tomato!” With that, he squirts some ketchup onto his plate.

  “What's wrong, honey?” I ask, seeing the discomfort in Addie's eyes. “Do you want something else instead? Just name it and you can have it. We'll start getting back to a proper diet tomorrow.”