Dreams, Visions, Nightmares, and MemoriesA Story by Meaghan M
Bailey stormed out of the therapist’s office having only spent about twelve and a half seconds there. She grabbed her helmet off the receptionist’s desk and quickly made her way out to the parking lot. Mary thought it best not to chase after her daughter. Simon, on the other hand, made no effort to hide his frustration with the fact that his daughter did not stay. The doctor’s mood was not changed at all. He knew exactly what Bailey was going to do when she walked in and saw Simon sitting there. Through the open window, the sound of Bailey’s motorcycle racing out of the parking lot reached them. Mary slumped down into a chair, tears flowing form her eyes, as Simon poured out a stream of foul language.
Bailey did not return home that night. Instead, she wound up passing out on her cousin Viviane’s couch surrounded by a few empty bottles of Bacardi’s Silver and Schmirnoff Ice. Despite the fact that Bailey was still seven months shy of the legal drinking age, Viviane knew that the consequences of not giving her cousin her liquor were far worse than those of getting caught giving alcohol to a minor. This had become quite routine for Viviane. Bailey wound up sleeping on her couch at least three times a week. And things were only getting worse.
Viviane watched her younger cousin sleep. Bailey did not always used to be like this. She did not always drink. In fact, she had quite a strong prejudice against alcohol. She did not always used to disappear from home for days on end, hopping from friend’s house to friend’s house so she would not be found. She was not always angry.
Later that day, Erica heard her sister’s motorcycle pull into the driveway. She and her brother Max ran to the top of the stairs just as the door opened. Keith did not bother moving from his bed, turning up the volume on his i-Pod.
“Do you have to park your bike there?” Simon’s voice came from the downstairs’ kitchen.
“Here we go.” Max whispered.
Erica sighed at her twin brother’s comment. She knew where this was going.
Without a word, Bailey picked up a large candlestick from the dinning room table.
“Bailey.” Mary screamed as her daughter’s arm reared back, aiming for Simon’s head.
Bailey did not throw the candlestick against every desire of her rage. She loosened her fingers from around the candlestick. It made a loud cluck as it hit the hardwood floor. No one moved.
“Bailey…” Mary whimpered.
Breaking her hateful glare with Simon’s cold eyes, Bailey turned around.
“Bailey.” Simon yelled.
She walked up the stairs, ignoring Simon’s temper.
“You get back here. No, Mary. This has gone on too long.”
Bailey patted Max’s head as she reached the top of the stairs. Their parents’ arguing continued downstairs. After getting herself some juice and tossing Keith the pack of cigarettes she had promised him, Bailey quickly retreated into her room and locked the door. Her siblings knew she would not come back out that night. Despite all the banging and yelling at her door Simon did, the door remained locked. They knew their sister was probably sitting on her floor with her back against the door and her i-Pod blaring. Simon finally gave up and the household quieted by the time midnight rolled around.
An early night.
Bailey and her motorcycle had already disappeared by breakfast. They made it through half the day before Simon started to once again preach about how Bailey was tearing this family apart and how he didn’t understand why she was doing this to them. That day was the first time he implied that something was wrong with her and she needed help.
That was also the day that Mary got the phone call from the hospital. Keith, Erica, and Max sat in the waiting room while their parents spoke to the doctor. Bailey had not woken up yet, but they had finally managed to stabilize her after two hours of surgery. Her motorcycle was beyond any repair. It was not until much later that night that they could see their sister.
Bailey dreamed a lot during that long week of unconsciousness. Bizarre dreams; dreams she considered as nightmares; dreams of what had happened in the past; dreams of what she wanted for the future. She even remembered having those odd dreams where you really cannot be sure if you are dreaming or half awake. Strange and familiar voices traveled in and out of her dreams. It became extremely difficult for her to distinguish what was a dream and what was real. As she gained more and more consciousness over the days she started to realize that it was even harder to separate dreams and memories. It troubled her, causing her dreams and half-awake visions to become more bizarre.
After that week, Bailey found just enough strength and consciousness to force her eyes open. She thought she felt someone’s hand in hers. And when she looked over, she thought she saw the cloudy outline of someone she knew.
“Bailey?”
But as soon as his voice registered, something resembling a mixture of shock, fear, and anger sent her straight back into unconsciousness. It took her another few hours to once again break through the pull of her dreams and open her eyes. This time she felt something different at first. The tube traveled from the side of her mouth down her throat, making her want to gag. But she didn’t. Her entire body ached terribly. That all passed when she felt her hand being held by another. She shifted in the bed, causing whoever was holding her hand to pick up his head. He smiled at her and the urge to gag returned.
“Bail-”
As fast as her hazy consciousness and bruised muscles allowed, she snatched her hand away from Simon. She tired to speak, but the tube in her mouth prevented her. The heart monitor next to her bed started beeping faster. Simon’s smile disappeared. She couldn’t understand how he could look at her like he didn’t know why she roiled from his touch, like he didn’t know why she looked at him with disgust.
“Bailey, what’s-?”
She backed away in the bed from his approaching hand. She tried to make noise again, this time managing to produce a scratchy growl. The sound made her lungs and throat burn. Despite the pain, she made the noise louder. Ignoring her aching body, she forced herself to remember how to move her own body. To the best of her ability, she began kicking and moving about to make more noise. The heart monitor raced.
It didn’t take too long for a nurse to rush into the room. Simon was quickly shuffled out. The room started getting fuzzy and she could once again feel the pull of unconsciousness. She didn’t fight it. She wanted to pass out. This was too much for her. How could he look at her like that? How could he look like he had no idea why she wanted him away from her? Like they were okay?
The next few days were strange. Bailey slipped in and out of consciousness. Every time she woke up there was a doctor or a nurse in her room looking at her chart or checking the tubes coming out of her skin. The strange part was that she never saw any visitors. When she woke up, she never saw her mother sitting at the edge of the bed; she never saw her boyfriend snoring in the chair by the window; she never woke up with her one of her brothers or her sister sleeping next to her.
Another week of the strange dreams and odd memories passed when she finally received a visitor. He was a doctor she had not seen before. He greeted her politely and introduced himself. He helped her sit up and got her some water before telling her he’d be asking her some questions.
First he asked her some stupid questions, or at least Bailey considered them stupid.
What is your full name? What’s your date of birth? Who are you parents? How many siblings do you have? Where do you live? What’s today’s date?
“What do you remember about the accident?”
“I was on my motorcycle when someone ran a red light and hit the car in front of me. I tried to swerve out of the way but, as you can see, that didn’t work out too well.” She laughed, which hurt her chest, but she was able to bite back a yelp of pain.
He nodded and scribbled something on the clipboard he was holding.
“And what about before the accident? What do you remember?”
“You mean right before?” she asked.
“Well, let’s start with why you were on the road that morning.”
Bailey took a few seconds to breathe. Talking made her throat burn and her chest hurt. The doctor apologized, but she said it was all right.
“I didn’t want to be home.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
Bailey gave a short laugh under her breath, looking away from the doctor.
“I never want to be home.”
“Could you tell me why?”
Under other circumstances, Bailey would have not told him. She never liked talking about it. But lying there in that hospital bed with tubes and wires coming out her body, it just flowed out of her mouth without check.
“My father is there.”
“Is that why you freaked out when you woke up and found him in here with you?”
She smirked.
“Freaked out? Is that a technical term doc?”
He laughed. “Sometimes.”
Bailey tried to laugh, but it still hurt too much.
“I hear you don’t get along with your father.”
She looked away, her face slowly going hard.
“I also hear that you see a therapist once a week.”
Again, she said nothing.
“Bailey,” the doctor placed his clipboard down on his lap, “do you know why you go to see someone every week?”
She closed her eyes. She was beginning to feel a little dizzy. Perhaps all this was too much for her so soon after the accident. She answered the questioned despite her desire to simply fall back asleep.
“I have anger issues.”
“Why?”
“Because of what he did to me.”
Lowering his head, the doctor moved the clipboard onto the table next to her bed. He cleared his throat and leaned forward in his chair. She opened her eyes.
“What?”
He sighed.
“Bailey, your parents, your therapist, and I have spoken. We all think that, considering what’s just happened, it’s time for you to know why you’re in therapy.”
“I know why I’m in therapy. What are you talking about?”
“What you think happened,” he paused, “what you think your father did-”
“What I think he did? There is no what I think he did, he did what he did.” Her voice got louder regardless of the pain.
“No Bailey, he didn’t.”
“What do you mean ‘no he didn’t’?”
Flashes of some of her dreams passed through her mind. She still was having trouble separating real memories from made up visions her current condition brought on. She clenched her fists, mostly to bite back the aching. The heart monitor next to her bed began to speed up.
“When you were in your first accident three years ago, we think you invented the incident with your father in order cover up the truth about why you crashed the car not only from everyone else but from yourself as well.”
“What?”
She felt her skin turn red. Her muscles hurt with the shaking that she could not control.
“No, no what are you talking about? No-”
“Bailey, you made it up.” He took her hand as she began to shake her head in protest. “Listen to me Bailey, you have to hear this. It never happened. You made it up to protect yourself form the truth.”
“Stop it.” She gritted her teeth.
She was bright red by now and was shaking all over. Her eyes had glazed over. This couldn’t be true. Pass out, her body kept telling her. It’s too much, just pass out.
“It’s time to stop this now Bailey. You have to accept what really happened.”
“No!”
Everything hurt. She couldn’t believe what he was saying. What truth? What was he talking about? Why was he doing this to her?
“Bailey-” “No,” she snatched her hand away, “I know what happened. I left that morning because of what he did to me. I crashed into that ditch because I couldn’t see because I was crying so much. I didn’t make it up!”
At that point, the door to her room opened. She hoped it would be a nurse ready to kick the doctor out. But she wasn’t that lucky because in walked Mary followed closely by Simon.
“Bailey?” Mary whimpered.
“No, get out.”
Her mother quickly made her way over to her side and took her hand. Simon remained by the door.
“Bailey, please.”
“This is not happening.”
Bailey found that it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. She felt her mother’s hand tighten around hers.
“Sweetie, please listen.”
She stared at her mother for a moment, horror taking over her which only fueled her anger.
“You have got to be kidding me.” She yelled.
“Bailey-”
“You believe this s**t?”
“Bailey, calm down.” The doctor said.
“How could you be serious about this?”
“You need to listen.” Mary pleaded.
“Get out!”
Bailey continued yelling, her voice coarse and cracking, with interruptions by both Mary and the doctor. Everything still hurt, but not enough to force her to give up this argument. This was ridiculous. The noise in the room got louder, and the amount of cursing increased.
“I can’t believe I’m f*****g hearing this!”
“Bailey, please-”
“You tried to commit suicide.”
All eyes turned to Simon, who still stood by the door. This statement made her feel even dizzier than she already did. Mary let go of her daughter’s hand and stood up straight.
“What?” Bailey snapped.
“You tried-”
“Simon, don’t.” Mary interrupted.
“Three years ago, you crashed the car on purpose.” Simon’s voice got louder.
“What the f**k is this?”
“You crashed the car, and when it didn’t work, you made up that lie about me. You made it all up because you wanted to hide the truth that you wanted to die.”
Silence fell, but only for a moment.
“You’re crazy.” Bailey said, trying to laugh. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Bailey, enough.” Mary whispered.
She turned her head to her mother. She waited for her mother to come to her rescue, to finally tell off Simon for what he was suggesting. But it didn’t happen. Mary just stood there, tears beginning to fall from her eyes. She would not be defended, not by her own mother. Suddenly, she felt unable to yell anymore. Mary believed him. She believed his lie. And it dawned on Bailey that she always had. That’s why she let Simon move back in. It wasn’t that she had somehow forgiven him; it was that she never thought he did it in the first place.
“Mom?”
Mary slowly turned back to Bailey. She tried to take her daughter’s hand, but Bailey wouldn’t let her.
“Bailey, you need help. Last time we let you-”
“Last time?” she snapped. “You can’t seriously think that I drove my bike into those cars on purpose.”
As that thought mulled over in her mind, the ability to yell quickly came back. She looked at the doctor.
“You’re all crazy.”
“That’s enough Bailey.” Simon yelled.
“You shut the f**k up! You probably conned them both into saying this!”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying-?”
“I didn’t make it up!”
“You’re sick Bailey. You need help.”
“The only reason I need help is because of what you did to me.”
“What I did? Bailey, you tried to kill yourself.”
As the screaming carried on, a nurse came into the room.
“What’s going on here?”
“Keith!” Bailey yelled. “Keith!”
“Bailey, stop it.” Mary begged.
“No, you think I made it all up?”
Keith walked into the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He didn’t look too good. He obviously hadn’t slept well in days. And just by the look on his face, Bailey could tell he wanted no part in any of this because he was only going to make it worse.
“Keith, tell them.” Bailey said, the dizziness growing stronger. “Tell them I didn’t make it up. Tell them what Simon did to me.”
Keith stared at his sister. He swallowed a considerable amount of spit, trying to produce something that resembled a human language. He looked around at the doctor, the nurse, his mother, and finally his father.
“Keith?”
His eyes went back to Bailey.
“Tell them.” Her voice had gone soft and a bit desperate.
He lowered his eyes.
“Enough Bailey.” He said softly. “It’s… just stop. This has gone on too long. Just… enough already.”
He didn’t stay long enough for Bailey’s reaction.
“What did you do to him?” Bailey whispered.
“This is pointless.” Simon sighed, turning around.
“Simon-”
“Mary, she thinks I’ve bribed you all or-”
“My phone. Where’s my phone?”
“Why do you want your phone?” the doctor asked.
Bailey rolled over on her side, grimacing. She reached for the drawers of the table next to her bed, swatting at them more than actually opening them.
“Viviane. I have to call Viviane.” She muttered.
“Viviane, your cousin?”
“Viviane, Jack, Nicky, anyone.” For the first time since she had woken up in the hospital, Bailey felt the panic taking over.
Mary took her daughter’s wrists and pulled her hands away from the table.
“Bailey, you haven’t talked to your cousin in years. Nicky has been away at college-”
“No!”
Bailey finally let the tears flow.
“Bet this Jack guy doesn’t even exist.” Simon mumbled.
Bailey screamed. Something that had been buried deep within forced her to forget the pain, forget the dizziness, forget the fact that she still could not properly move half her body on her own. It allowed her to defy all that. Mary fell back as her daughter tried to leap out of the bed toward Simon. The nurse rushed over to the bed, trying to calm Bailey down. She began thrashing and continued to scream. It took three nurses, a doctor, and a mild sedative to finally restrain her.
Hours went by before anyone was allowed back in Bailey’s room. But even when the doctor said it was okay, Mary said she didn’t wish to see her daughter. Keith sat with his younger brother and sister when Simon came to collect them. They were going back home. Erica and Max let their father lead them away, but Keith waited for his mother. He stood up and stared at her for a moment when she reached him.
“We did what we had to do. All this had gone on for too long. It had to stop. She needed to hear it. It had to end, for all our sakes.” Mary said quietly.
He continued to stare at his mother, a new coldness embedded in his eyes. Mary had seen this kind of look in another of her children’s eyes once. He wanted to say so many things to his mother at this point, but nothing seemed right. He wanted to embrace her and strangle her all at once. So, without saying a word, Keith walked away from her. Mary watched him walk away toward Bailey’s room.
Two children lost now.
Turning the corner, Keith stood in front of the door to Bailey’s room. He lost some feeling in his legs when he saw his sister strapped down to the bed by restraints around her waist, ankles, and wrists. He walked in as quietly as he could. She knew he was there nonetheless. She had her head turned away and her eyes closed, but he knew she was awake. Stuffing his hands in his pants’ pockets, he once again tried to come up with the right thing to say. What could he say to her?
“The doctor says you’re refusing to take your painkillers.”
It was the first thing he was able to vomit up. She didn’t move; she didn’t speak. He knew his sister well enough to know that she wanted him to leave. He noticed his sister’s white knuckles curled in tight fists. Without the painkillers, the soreness of her muscles had erupted into strong blasts of pain. Let the pain come, what did it matter?
Keith waited for his sister to say something, but nothing came. He lowered his head, casting his eyes to the white floor of her hospital room. And then it came out. He couldn’t stop it. The words left a vile taste in his mouth, but he had no control over it.
“They did what they had to do. All this had gone on for too long. It had to stop. You needed to hear it. It had to end, for all our sakes.”
After it was over and too late to take back, Keith cringed slightly. How could he? How could he say that of all things? He watched as his sister’s fists tightened. A small hint of a red liquid appeared on one of her palms, probably from how far her nails had dug into her skin. He lifted his foot to take a step closer to her, but put it right back down. It was too late now. She was gone for good now. His sister was gone. He’d lost her. He let her fade away. He allowed them to stamp her out. He just stood there and watched as they told her the one thing she couldn’t bear to hear.
In one awkward move, Keith turned around and left the room. His legs were only strong enough to take him a few paces away from the door. He leaned back against the wall and slid down onto the cold marble floor. He looked down, focusing on nothing in particular. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end.
Bailey felt the skin on her palms break from the pressure of her nails. Seeing how she spat back up the pains pills the nurse tried to give her and she was now refusing any sort of IV painkiller, this only made matters worse. She kept her mouth shut though. Screaming would only get her stuck with another sedative, and crying would only give them a reason to come back. She couldn’t turn back now.
She wanted to shut out what they had all said. But every time she closed her eyes, their voices drifted back into her mind. Made it all up; they had told her she had made it all up. None of what she thought had happened had happened. She had tried to kill herself that night she would up in a ditch. She didn’t remember ever wanting to end her life, but that’s what they had all said. She created what Simon had done to cover up the truth that she was suicidal.
Could it be possible? Had she wanted to kill herself? What Simon did, did it actually never happen? Was it all just a cover story she came up with to protect herself? Had it really been years since she had last spoken to Viviane? What about all those nights she had passed out on Viviane’s couch, was that made up too? Had Nicky really gone away to college? And Jack, what about Jack? The boyfriend she had kept away from her dysfunctional family; had she invented him as well?
Every time she told herself no, Keith’s face kept coming back to her. His words had hurt the most. Even if she was taking her pain medicine, it would hurt. Let it hurt though. Let the pain come. The pain only made the anger grow. And she would need all the anger she could build up inside her.
The heart monitor next to her began to speed up. She heard the nurse enter the room. As if it was possible, her fingernails dug deeper into her palms. The nurse called for the doctor as soon as she saw the blood dripping from Bailey’s hands. Keith felt powerless as he heard his sister begin to thrash and scream when the doctor tried to medicate her. This was not how it was supposed to end.
He had started this war that day when she took the car and wound up in a ditch. They thought they had ended it all with their lie. She wasn’t going to stop though. She wasn’t.
It was never going to end.
© 2009 Meaghan MReviews
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Meaghan MNYAboutMeaghan, spelt with as many letters as you can cram into the name. 22, Long Island. I'm a writer, it's what I do. more..Writing
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