He’s allowed to shrug.
'Just your annual checkup,' he says noncommittally.
I don't let my face betray me. I don’thaveannual checkups with the OBGYN.
'Of course,' I say, although my skin crawls and I hope the pills they've given me numb me enough that I barely remember it.
Stoke’s eyes bore into me as if he's trying to figure something out, catch me out.
'Was there anything else?' I ask.
He shakes his head. 'No, Marguerite. I just wanted to let you know about the appointment.'
Bullshit. He doesn’t usually tell me in person. This is just an excuse to bring me in here so he can observe me closely. This is recon.
He gestures for me to leave, and I stand up.
'Is it possible for me to go out for a run today?’ I blurt out as an afterthought.
He stares at me as if he has no idea what I’m talking about.
‘I used to go out every day,’ I elaborate, ‘but every time I ask, the answer is no.'
He gives me another patronizing smile. 'Well, you haven’t been very well, remember, Marguerite? We couldn't let you outalone. It wouldn't have been safe for you.'
'Well, I'm feeling much better,' I reply quietly. 'And, as you know, exercise is important.'
‘We’ll see,’ he murmurs, already looking down at his notes.
He picks up a pen to write and doesn’t actually give me a proper answer. I let out a low breath and turn around to leave his office.
'Close the door,won't you?'
'Of course, Dr. Stoke.'
I enter the hallway and swallow hard, feeling like I’m in freefall. But maybe that’s the drugs starting to work. Sometimes they make me dizzy first.
I try not to think about my time at Richmond anymore today because I’ll start to get upset.
What's real, and what's not?
What's true, and what's false?
I haven't seen Dr. Lansdon since the first day. When I asked about him, I was told that he's on holiday for a couple of weeks, and that he'll be returning soon. He’s not here, so I suppose that means I’ve been here for less than two weeks…if the past four months actually happened, that is.
I walk back towards my room slowly, my mind already beginning to waver, but, on the way, one of the Blanks tells me it's time to go into the sitting room. I almost snap and tell her that I'll do what I like, but I know that not only will I get a demerit, but also a zap for it because I already gave Philip a hard time about the meds earlier. That means that Stoke will want to speak to me about my behavior, and then I will lose privileges.
One might assume that there's not much to take away, but I know from experience that there's always something. They can make things much worse for me than it seems like on the surface. They're very good at it.
In the lounge, I glance around. Six of the residents are in here at the moment. Some of them are my age or a little younger. I don’t know all of them.
I glance to the side and see Colin. He's sitting at the table in the middle of the room writing numbers on a piece of paper. This is what Colin does most of the time, and, to be honest, I find it relaxing. The slow scribble of his pencil on the paper is methodical and constant. It doesn’t change.He doesn't usually speak either, and he doesn't hum or mutter to himself like Angela. She’s currently sitting in the corner rocking as she does most of the time despite the fact that it’s against the rules. They've been trying to get her to stop for years, but she won’t and the Blanks have largely given up.
I sit at the table across from Colin. I take a piece of paper out of the tray in the middle and begin to doodle, mostly because it's expected, and if I just sit there staring blankly, I'll be given something to occupy me.
Colin doesn't look at me, just keeps writing the numbers. There's a sequence, but it's very long. I'm not sure what it is, but he seems to know because he writes the same numbers over and over and over again every day. It only usually changes at the end, I’ve noticed.
The room swirls a little. I'm feeling the drugs start to kick in.
