Shewas really aggravating Karen, my therapist, and I got mad at her and told her toleave." You did what?" Anita almost yelled. "How could you do that to her? You know shecan't help the way she is."Now I was getting annoyed. "Do I?" I asked harshly. "The last time I checked Istill didn't have much in the way of a memory. So how would I know? Hmm?"(Okay it was a low blow. What can I say? I still suck sometimes.)Anita looked mortified. "I didn't mean to get upset with you." she said, "Butyou being here has mom really upset. (Like it's a picnic for me.) When you weremissing for those weeks, she cried every day. And when you turned up here, aliveshe got down on her knees and thanked God. All she seems to do is fret over yourcondition. So how about cutting her some slack?"(Wow as if I didn't feel shitty enough. This girl really knows how to lay on theguilt.)Wondering if I looked as embarrassed, about my behavior, as I felt anddesperately wanting to change the subject I said, "So how are. Annalette had never seen it any other way. Lydia’s elbows on either side brought folded hands to her chin and there she concentrated on the images before her dressed in stockinged coverlets and shrouded by a scarlet cape. Distracted and impatient, Lydia’s previous expressions of friendliness had disappeared. Without speaking she pointed to the shed nightgown and robe lying on the floor in a jumble. With a ‘yes milady’ Annalette gathered the used clothing, left them outside, brought in the vessel of water and split wood for the hearth placing them onto the glowing embers. She then hastened to leave without the verbal dismissal which would have certainly come angrily and with a condescension which always accompanied nightfall in Lydia’s chambers. Annalette closed the door behind her. Seconds later the bolt was thrown on the other side and locked. She paused filling her arms with Lydia’s clothing to be washed and as she had so many times before, the girl lingered. Those many nights.
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