Girl in Shadow

Anna Bailey looked up at the towering office building briefly before entering. The afternoon sunlight glinted off of windows that didn’t open, warming the indifferent glass-and-steel exterior just enough to make anyone passing by feel uncomfortably warm. Anna wasn’t passing by, but she still felt uncomfortable, and it wasn’t because of the heat.

The elevator ride to the seventeenth floor was a trial; it would invariably stop innumerable times to let people on and off. Today, though, the elevator didn’t stop until it got to the floor of her choice. Christmas Eve in western L.A. Commerce gave way to celebrating a dead god and waiting for a fat man in a red suit.

Anna entered Dr. Franz’s office without knocking, there being no receptionist in the waiting area. She plopped her purse on the couch and stood at the massive window that overlooked western L.A. The view was spectacular, but the magic stopped at the eyeballs.

“Hello, Anna. Ready to begin?” Dr. Franz turned on a recording app on her phone and sat it down in front of her. Anna nodded, not turning away from the window.

“Anna Bailey. Session number fifty-one. December twenty-fourth, 2022.” Dr. Franz looked at Anna’s back. “Would you like to say anything before we begin, Anna? Any thoughts or feelings you want to share?”

“Not really,” Anna turned and smiled before turning back to the window.

“I think it would be beneficial if you did, Anna. What you feel right now is an important aspect of what we want to do here. If I could…”

“It’s my $1000, doc.”

Dr. Franz paused the recording app.

“Anna. What’s wrong?”

Anna turned to the doctor and sighed deeply. What to tell Dr. Franz and what to keep to herself was like playing a chess game with her psyche. Every move seemed to have far-reaching ramifications. She never knew if she was winning or losing.

“I’m thinking about bees.”

Dr. Franz activated the recording app again.

“Ok. Bees. What are your thoughts on bees?”

Anna stared out of the window again. The sun gave the brick buildings in the distance a foreign aspect; she likened it to a Tuscan afternoon, sipping espresso and contemplating Voltaire.

The silence was deep and abiding, perfuming the room with a languor that wouldn’t soon leave. Anna always did this. She wouldn’t respond to the doctor’s queries for several minutes; the doctor would wait her out. Anna would finally respond. This fine-tuned dance was of Anna’s invention. She wanted the doctor to feel like she had worn Anna down. Anna always found the doctor to be more receptive to her after she gave her the silent treatment.

“They are remarkable. Did you know that the queen bee becomes the queen bee by killing all of her sisters so that she’s the only queen remaining? Yes. And that she takes flight as a maiden and mates with a dozen or so males who fill her with their sperm and then their penises break off and they fall to the ground dead?”

“I…uh…no, I didn’t know that. Yes, remarkable. Why are you thinking about this?”

Anna turned to the doctor, her eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

“Why do you think I’m thinking about bees?”

“Anna, I have no idea. It is, as you say, your money. Perhaps you should tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I prefer the comfort of reclusion, the poetry of hibernation.”

“Uh huh. Explain.”

Dr. Franz moved to the couch to be nearer to Anna. Still, she was at least ten feet away from her. Anna would yell at her if she got any closer.

“Just a quote by a French author. It’s how I’ve been feeling since the event.”

“The tragedy. Don’t minimize your grief.”

Anna turned and leaned back against the window, crossing her arms and looking Dr. Franz in the eye. Since this happened so rarely, Dr. Franz felt uncomfortable.

“Yeah. Ok. I was arguing with my mom. My dad was distracted and an 18-wheeler hit us head on. They died. I lived. The event. Not a tragedy.”

Dr. Franz took off her glasses and stood up. She went back to her desk, consciously putting a barrier between her and Anna.

“It’s time I tell you something, Anna. I’ve been putting it off for some time now because…because it’s hard to say to you. But it needs to be said before we go any further with your treatment.”

Anna turned back to staring out of the window. She wondered how difficult it would be to break the window and jump out.

“You’ll always feel guilty about the event. Always. But you have to let me help you find a way to live with it. That’s the cold, unadorned truth, Anna. I wish it weren’t so, but it is.”

Anna remained at the window, watching the sun slowly but inexorably descend toward the ocean. The water seemed to be imbued with a brittle conflagration of orange rage and yellow despair. The sky soaked up rainbow colors and spread them out over the horizon for any who cared to notice and appreciate such things. A vacuum cleaner hummed in the distance and doors were being opened and closed. Christmas Eve was just another work day for poor people.

“You know what I do every Christmas Eve? I find a church and egg it. Just letting God know how I feel about what happened thirteen years ago. It’s a ten-year tradition that I’m not willing to give up. Better than singing carols and watching insipid Christmas movies on Hallmark.”

“You’re feeling survivor’s guilt.”

Anna waved her right hand in a dismissive gesture.

“You’ve said that before. Giving it a name doesn’t make it any less shitty.”

Dr. Franz leaned back and rubbed her eyes. She was tired. Weary would be a better word for it. This girl, this broken woman would never be healed, and she was taking money from her in what she now believed was a futile attempt at healing Anna. She just couldn’t see her way to helping her, no matter what she tried.

“Sometimes the queen bee is forced out of the hive to begin a new hive. The colony has found a new queen, but the old queen is allowed to live as long as she is still healthy. The exiled queen then flies away, with a lot of the hive’s population, to begin anew somewhere else.”

Dr. Franz frowned. Anna always spoke in riddles, but this one was more obscure than usual. Bees and queens and tragedies. And French authors?

“So, do you equate yourself with the exiled queen?”

“No. No, I don’t think so. But I’m attracted to the idea of relocating and starting anew.”

“You’ll sell your house in Pacific Palisades? That’s a big step, Anna.”

Another bout of silence ensued. Anna knew that the doctor was gazing at a painting that Anna had given her. Girl in Shadow. It was an impressionist piece and worth considerably more than Anna said it was worth. She gave it to Dr. Franz because it reminded Anna of herself and the doctor. The painting was awash with vibrant colors and human-like shapes, except for one melancholy, gaily-clad child. She was in the shadow of a tree, her head bowed. Everyone else was having a splendid time and was ignoring the sad girl.

“Yes, well. The Palisades have become tiresome. I’m surrounded by movie stars and captains of industry. And coyotes. I like the coyotes. At least they’re honest about their actions.”

“And Starr? Will she go with you?”

Anna pursed her lips, a slight frown creasing her otherwise smooth features. She wanted a cigarette, but that wasn’t allowed here. And the window won’t open. Barred from suicide and smoking. Both seemed attractive and viable options for Anna at this moment.

“I suppose. She says that she loves me.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes. She owns and operates a vegan restaurant, so yes.”

“You find owners and operators of vegan restaurants to be honest?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

Dr. Franz paused just a little before answering.

“I think everyone has the capacity to lie.”

Anna turned to Dr. Franz and stared at her impassively.

“Including you?”

“Well…yes. But I haven’t lied to you, my dear.”

“No, but you’ve been evasive at times. Nothing is harder than speaking the truth. Dostoevsky said that.”

“Oh? Who is Dostoevsky?”

“A dead Russian author. He was an existentialist. Sort of.”

Dr. Franz didn’t know how to respond to this.

“But you’ve been good to me. You’re worth $1000 an hour.”

Dr. Franz didn’t know how to respond to this either, but Anna’s words filled her with an overwhelming sense of pity for the girl. Anna was buying professional companionship.

“Do you love Starr?”

Anna fidgeted with her necklace.

“I don’t know, so I guess that means that I don’t. I tell her I love her because it’s easy to say and it makes her feel good. She makes a very good asparagus and artichoke omelet. And a very good mushroom and onion galette.”

“Do you think that her cooking is a good enough reason to stay with her?”

“As good as any, I suppose. You tell me, doc. You’re the expert.”

Dr. Franz looked up sharply.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve been married for over twenty years, or so you said. Why do you love your husband?”

Dr. Franz was stymied by the question. She hadn’t considered her feelings for her husband in years.

“I don’t think that this is a topic…”

“Ha! Evasive. But if I gave you a few minutes, you would use words like ‘compassionate,’ ‘gentle,’ and ‘caring.’ Whatever words you choose hold no more value than mine. I would rather have my palate satisfied than my sense of propriety.”

“I, uh…I don’t quite see what you mean, Anna.”

Anna rolled her cigarette between her fingers and instinctively reached for her lighter. She put the lighter back in her pocket after staring at it for a moment but kept the cigarette in her left hand. It felt reassuring, like pain.

“People say they get married for love but it’s just as likely that they married for lust and convention. You get laid with the tacit approval of God when you marry. It feels like a win-win at first.”

“Well, that’s an interesting hypothesis, Anna. I don’t know that I agree with it.” Dr. Franz smiled wanly. Anna was hitting a little too close to home. Her home, anyway.

“The French understand this. Especially Balzac. Have a wife to make the priest happy and a mistress to make yourself happy.”

“Hmm. I see. Is that why you read French novelists? Because they write about love and guilt?”

Anna laughed a genuine laugh, startling the good doctor. This was the first time in fifty-one sessions that this had happened.

“Oh, doc! You are a funny one. The Russians understand guilt, not the French. The French scoff at everything, including guilt. The Russians know how to write a novel, but the French are terrible at it.”

Anna put a cigarette in her mouth and then took it out. She cradled it gingerly and deftly between two fingers on her left hand.

“Why do you read French novels, then?”

“They write terribly derivative tales, but contained within these terrible stories are sublime passages. No one can write sublime, transcendent passages like the French.”

“Hmmm. I fear we are a little off topic, Anna. Let’s get back to your desire for flight. Like an exiled queen bee.”

“Not quite the same thing, doc, but ok. Yeah, I can sell the house for $15 million, though it’s worth about $23 million. Bad Bunny said he’d buy it today if I could come down to his price.”

“Who is this bad bunny? Is that a nickname?”

“He’s a musician.”

“I see.”

“I doubt that you do, doc. But no matter.”

“Was he serious?”

“He was eating a blueberry scone and drinking green tea when he made the offer, so, yes.”

Dr. Franz shook her head slightly. She didn’t believe in this sort of thing. She believed in science, not divining the truthfulness of a statement through gastronomy.

“Where would you go?”

Anna went back to the window and pointed out.

“Somewhere out there.”

“That’s very vague, Anna.”

Anna put the cigarette between her lips and chewed lightly on the filter.

“I can afford to be vague. I have lots of money.”

Dr. Franz nodded. Although she was quite aware of her patients’ money – they all had money – she rarely thought of Anna’s considerable monetary means. It suddenly struck her that Anna not only felt guilty about her family’s deaths but she also felt guilty about inheriting their fortune.

Anna glanced at the descending sun and abruptly picked up her purse and walked towards the door. Dr. Franz wondered how the girl knew that their hour was up; she hadn’t even glanced at her watch, and there were no clocks in the office.

“I’ll see you next week?”

Anna smiled a tight smile and nodded.

“Have a pleasant holiday, dear. Eat some of Starr’s excellent food and relax.”

Anna was halfway to the elevators when Dr. Franz finished giving her mundane advice. She needed a cigarette, and she needed a reason to climb out of the shadows from her past. Anna stepped out into the waning California light and lit the much-abused cigarette. She inhaled deeply and sighed in contentment; at least one of her desires was met.

Corpus Christi Catholic Church was egged that night. Anna made her statement to God – again – before going home to contemplate her future.

“Merry Christmas, God! We’ll talk later, you son of a bitch!” Anna screamed at the church before letting out a loud, barbaric yawp. She lit a cigarette and drove home in the dark. She had a gun to put away and a bottle of wine to drink.