Intensive Therapy Part 22

Victoria grimaced. "That was then. I gave birth to a monster." Victoria's eyes darted from Jonas's face to her broken wrist and back. "I should have known better. I hated my mother; now my daughter hates me."

"This is about more than your daughter. This is about your whole family."

"It's falling apart, like me."

"What about Gregory? You love mothering him. Gregory is easy."

"So?"

"Melinda is hard. She's very hard to mother. You know that's true."

"What about it?"

"It's not like you to quit."

"Is that what you think?"

"That's exactly what I think. The you I know doesn't give up. You hated that in your father; then he fought for his life. He battled for his sobriety, like you battled for your sanity in college. We faced it together."

"That was then."

"Think about Melinda, Victoria. Is she that different from you at her age? Angry with the world. Self-absorbed. You needed help."

"It's not the same. I wanted help, but I had to do it on my own. My parents never understood how sick I was. Like they cared."

"You're not that kind of parent. You do care. When you came to me for help, you were ill; you weren't bad. You weren't a freak, even though you felt like one in some of your dreams."

"You remember that?"

"I told you I remember everything. Remember when you climbed the swing set? You were fortunate you didn't fall off."

"What if I had?"

"You might have bashed your head in. Think about a world without Gregory."

That got Victoria's attention. "So what's your point?" she said. "This isn't about you, Victoria; it's about Melinda. And even though he's fighting for his life, it's not about Gregory, either. It's come down to this-your daughter's fate rests in your hands."

"I don't want the responsibility."

"It's yours whether you want it or not. It goes with being a parent. She didn't ask to be born, and she didn't ask to be ill."

"Neither did I."

"Well, you were, and you got help. Right now, Melinda is ill, and she's terrified, and she doesn't know what she's doing. She's holding on for dear life, just like you were when you came to me. There had to have been moments when you held her and loved her."

"You don't understand, Jonas. She was so hard to love. I gave her the best I had, and she still wound up hating me."

Jonas looked at his watch, the second hand pulsating like a heartbeat. He took two deep breaths. "Victoria," Jonas said, straining to keep his voice under control. "Believe me, I understand. I remember a mother and daughter I saw for therapy. The woman was one of the most conscientious mothers I ever met, but both she and her daughter had mood disorders. One day right in front of me, the daughter emotionally eviscerated the mother mercilessly, told her she was a selfish b.i.t.c.h; told her that everyone in the family made fun of her behind her back. Every time the daughter stuck the knife in, I saw the mother bleed more. But the mother stayed strong, and a year later, they were friends again. They got help and turned their relationship around. The same can happen with Melinda and you, but she has to survive the night."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You're asking the wrong question."

"G.o.ddammit, Jonas. Just tell me what to do."

"You have to find your love for her, even though right now you're ready to kill her. That's what parents do for their children. Just like a long time ago, you needed me to tell you who I was and what I felt about you."

"The last day."

"You said, 'Do your job.' Remember?"

"I remember."

"And I did it. I did it, because that's what you needed."

"I remember."

Jonas said, "Do it, Victoria. She didn't ask to be born this way. Do your job. Find your love and compa.s.sion for her. It's her only chance."

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I do. It is her only chance. Please, Victoria, it's up to you."

Exhausted, Jonas recalled seeing his son Gil for the first time at the adoption agency. He had longed for a son ever since his father died. When Jennie couldn't conceive, Jonas was devastated. He'd always dreamed of being in the delivery room when his wife gave birth, cutting the umbilical cord as fathers had done for generations.

Victoria was Melinda's lifeline. He was Victoria's. "You can do it. I know you can," Jonas said.

"How much time do we have?"

"I don't know. Every second counts. I brought you some boots. Can you put them on with your good hand?"

"I'll figure it out. Let's go. We'll talk on the way."

41.

As Jonas drove to Fairmont Park, Victoria rehea.r.s.ed what she wanted to say to Melinda. Jonas's presence felt inhibiting, so she muttered to herself, trying to commit the words to memory like she did during trial preparation.

"You're talking to yourself," Jonas said.

"I'm trying to stay focused. I want to believe this whole business with Melinda is only a nightmare. I'm trying to remember the good things."

"Maybe this will help," Jonas said. "How did you feel when you were pregnant? Did you know you were having a girl?"

"We found out at the first ultrasound."

"What was it like when you first saw her heartbeat?"

"I felt detached, like I was in hygiene cla.s.s."

"And when she was born? When you saw her? What did you think?"

"Honestly? I thought, 'G.o.d that hurt. I'm glad it's over with.'"

"You didn't bond with her?"

"You have no idea what the delivery was like. The pain was unbearable. It felt like she clawed my insides into shreds with her fingernails on the way out. I felt so violated."

"You never bonded with her?"

"I tried so hard. The more ferociously I mothered, the more disconnected I felt from her."

"Okay, then. Think of this as your second chance to bond with her."

"A second chance? Really? I never thought of that."

"People don't get many second chances in life," Jonas said. "This is yours and Melinda's."

As Jonas turned onto Lancaster Avenue, one of his rear wheels skidded, and the car fishtailed.

Victoria started. "What was that?"

"It's the ice. I'm going as fast as I can," Jonas said. "That postpartum reaction you had after Melinda was born-it screws up the brain-bonding chemical system."

"I want to do it all over. I know my feelings about Lorraine must be mixed up in this, too. After I learned I was having a girl, I let my mother back into my life. She told me not to take any painkillers during the delivery, that all I needed was natural childbirth cla.s.ses. After Melinda was born, she bombarded me with advice. 'The baby needs this, the baby needs that.' I didn't know what the h.e.l.l Melinda needed, but I was sure she wasn't getting it from me. I started doubting myself again."

"Of course. You doubted you could mother a daughter. If I'd been in your life, I would have shaken you by the neck until you realized what was happening."

Victoria swallowed hard. "I was afraid you'd be mad at me for s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up the hard work we did by letting Lorraine back into my head. That's the real reason I didn't call. It wasn't just the medicine thing."

"I figured there was something else. Upset or not, we would have dealt with it. Either way, we're in it together now." Jonas glanced out the window, craning his neck to see the cross-street signs, which were caked over with ice. "Stay on the lookout," he said. "The directions were to take Lancaster Avenue until Forty-fourth Street, and turn right."

"Okay."

"What was it about mothering that you doubted?"

"I didn't want the pregnancy to end. I knew I wasn't ready to give birth. I just wanted to keep Melinda inside me until I figured things out. By the time I was writhing in pain on the delivery table, it was too late for an epidural. I blamed Martin for not keeping Lorraine out of my head. Everything was screwed up. Melinda and I never recovered."

"That had to affect your relationship with Martin, too."

"That's a whole other story-for another time," Victoria deflected Jonas's observation. "How long until we're there?"

"It depends. We're supposed to make a right on Monument Avenue."

"All I want now is to hold her." Victoria began crying. "That's all I ever wanted to do, but Lorraine said too much holding would spoil her, that she'd never learn to comfort herself."

The streetlights disappeared once Jonas and Victoria entered Fairmont Park, the view turning into one contiguous blur of ice and snow. Drooping tree branches turned the road into a maze of crypt-like pa.s.sageways, sword-like icicles attacking Jonas's windshield as if he were plowing through a medieval armory. With the headlights no longer reflecting off objects as usual, the contours of the road all but vanished. Jonas slowed to a crawl.

"We must be getting near the bridge," he said. "I see blue and red flashing lights in the distance."

He eased to a stop where two police cruisers had blocked the roadway leading to the Strawberry Mansion Bridge. As he lowered his window, a blast of frigid air pummeled him and Victoria while an officer blinded them with a flashlight.

"This road is closed," the officer announced.

Victoria said, "It's my daughter out there. Her name is Melinda. Please let us through."

The officer said something into his walkie-talkie; the reply sounded unintelligible. He said, "The doctor thinks it would be better if you approached on foot."

"Which doctor?" Jonas asked.

"There's a Dr. Milroy in the car with the girl's father and grandfather."

Victoria said, "Officer, pa.s.s me the radio. I need to speak to Dr. Milroy."

"Sorry, ma'am. I can't do that. I need to keep in touch with Inspector Pale and headquarters. You'll have to call on your cell phone."

"How far away is she?" Victoria asked the officer.

"She's in the middle of the bridge, about two hundred feet from here. She's sitting on top of an observation post, facing the water."

Victoria told Jonas, "Call Dr. Milroy on your phone and put it on speaker."

Milroy answered on the first ring.

"Rob. It's Jonas. Victoria and I are at the bridge on western side of the river. Where are you?"

"Exactly opposite you." Dr. Milroy's voice sounded strained.

"Martin?" Victoria said. "Martin, are you there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

"Did you talk with her?"

"When Charles and I got within twenty feet, she told us not to come any closer. I begged her to come to talk things out. She's convinced the police are after her for killing Gregory and that you'll hate her for the rest of her life. She said she'd rather be dead."

Martin continued, "I told her we love her, that Gregory is still alive and that the doctors were operating on him. But Melinda wouldn't hear it. She insisted he was dead; that she saw him lying on the sidewalk. She believes you want her to be tried for murder and that it'll be all over the Internet that Melinda Braun killed her brother."

"Give me the phone, Mr. Braun." Victoria recognized Dr. Milroy's voice.

"That's her grandiosity speaking," Dr. Milroy said. "She thinks the whole world is as caught up in this as she is. When you talk to her, avoid saying 'we' and 'all of us,' which she could misinterpret. Say 'I' or 'your father and me.' And tell the truth about Gregory; she'll know if you're lying."