Chapter 7

Julian sat across from a woman he despised.

She looked much older than a woman in her thirties. Although she was a natural blonde, at some point she had decided to go even blonder. Her brittle and wet-looking curls, a sign of too much styling product, had the yellow tinge of a bad peroxide job. She was once overweight, and now her skin hung loosely around her body as if it were slowly melting away from her frame. With a complexion still plagued by acne, her face appeared swollen, or perhaps, Julian thought, it had failed to keep up with the rest of her shrinking body. She reminded him of Sofia and Tatiana’s mother, Olga Dulgorukova.

Every time she moved, a strong odor of stale cigarettes mixed with cheap hair product hit him. He tried to take sparse, shallow sips of air. He wished they were not trapped in a small room on the seventh floor of the hospital, where the windows were permanently shut.

“Lily, do you want to tell your mom what you told me the last time we met?” He shifted his attention to the girl who sat without speaking at the other end of the couch.

Lily looked at Julian, an expression of unease was etched on her face. He didn’t know if her feelings were as obvious to her mother as they were to him, but he smiled at her, encouraging her to speak.

Lily didn’t reply and Julian didn’t rush her. He continued to sit and kept the blank notepad in his hands. His shallow breathing started to make him feel lightheaded.

When he heard Lily’s mother make an attempt to say something, he raised his hand and nodded to Lily, making sure she understood he would not allow her mother to interject.

“I don’t want to go back there. I can’t,” she finally said, her voice timid but clear.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” A deep furrow marked her mother’s forehead. “That’s your home. He’s your dad.”

“He’s drunk all the time,” Lily continued in the same tone.

“Does he hit you? Does he scream at you?”

Lily lowered her eyes to her lap and started to pick at the white bandage on her wrist.

“See? I know—”

“Please, Mrs. Hamilton, let’s give Lily time to answer your question.”

Julian leaned forward on his chair, toward Lily. “It’s OK, you can take as long as you want. Your mother and I will wait.”

“Dr. Reeve, you might have all afternoon, but I’ve got to get back to work. I know my daughter. She’s playing games.”

Julian felt on the verge of losing his restraint. Because Lily was the only person who mattered in that room, he emptied his mind and filled it with thoughts of her. He had to concentrate on Lily and not on her mother.

“Mrs. Hamilton, we’re here for your daughter. There’s time.” He wondered where his affable tone had come from and if he should be shocked or happy about the extent to which he could pretend.

She crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes at her daughter. “Go ahead.”

“Why can’t I come live with you?” Lily asked.

“We talked about this before. Your stepdad and I are moving to North Carolina so he can be near his kids. Now is not a good time for you to come live with us. Maybe in a few months, when we get settled.”

“You’re leaving me here with him.”

“He’s your dad,” her mother said. “He’s dealing with some stuff but he loves you. He’ll take good care of you.”

Lily now picked at the white bandage on her other wrist.

“How do you feel about your mom’s move to North Carolina?” Julian asked her. “And you can be honest. No one here will be upset with you for being honest. We want to know how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t want her to go.”

“Why?” he pressed, hearing despair in Lily’s voice—she was trying not to cry. Julian realized that the whole time Lily had been his patient—they had been having weekly sessions for well over a year—he had never seen her cry.

“Because I know she won’t come back. I know she won’t ask me to come live with her. She’s going to forget all about me. I don’t like living with her either but it’s better than living with my dad.” She turned to look at her mother. “Please let me come with you. I’ll do better. I’ll eat and I won’t try to hurt myself ever again. I promise.”

“Stop lying. You’re saying all of this so you can get what you want. For the last two years all I’ve done is deal with your crap and I’ve had enough, Lily. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, we always end up here, in this goddamn hospital, dealing with these goddamn doctors that can’t fix anything. Now is your dad’s turn. It’s time you were his problem, not mine. You’re staying in Chicago and that’s the end of it.”

Lily shut her eyes tight. The cut on her left wrist had opened up and the bandage turned bright red. “Please, I don’t want to live with him.”

“That’s too bad.”

Hearing her mother’s response, Julian rested the notepad on the table near him and stood up. He couldn’t bear it a minute longer. “Lily, I’m going to ask one of the nurses to have a quick look at your wrist and, while they do that, your mother and I will continue to chat. We’ll both be here waiting for you when you’re done.”

Julian walked Lily out of the room. Seeing the lack of concern on Mrs. Hamilton’s face as he reentered, he knew the conversation he was about to have might mark the end of his career at Lurie Hospital.

“You’re in a rush, aren’t you?” Rage made it hard for him to speak. “So, I’ll be as straightforward as I can. You’re not a fit mother and Lily shouldn’t be in your care. But if you refuse to have her live with you, she won’t be staying with your ex-husband. He’s an alcoholic with a criminal record. Lily will be placed in foster care. Being in the system is hard for any child; in most cases it defines the rest of their lives. Your daughter is a thirteen-year-old girl who suffers from an eating disorder and who recently tried to commit suicide. I know, without a doubt, that she will be dead within a year. Is that what you want for your daughter, Mrs. Hamilton?”

“You don’t know anything, Doctor.” She sat on the edge of the couch and pointed her index finger at Julian. “What have you done for my daughter? Instead of getting better she keeps getting worse. You’re not helping her.”

“I’m doing a hell of lot more for Lily than you ever have.” The professional tone vanished and now he sounded openly hostile. He remembered the numerous times he had wanted to tell her how Lily’s mental state stemmed from her parenting but he had been silenced by his position as a psychologist. Now he no longer cared about the consequences of his words.

“You’ve made up your mind,” he continued, speaking louder. “You don’t want to help your daughter. You want her gone, out of your life, and if she happens to die then better for you. That way you don’t have to deal with her problems ever again. I imagine you wish it hadn’t been her stepfather who found her bleeding to death in the bathroom. Would you even have called 9-1-1?”

“Are you saying I want my daughter dead?”

“If that hasn’t become clear then you’re stupider than I thought.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” She stood up with her purse under her arm. “I’ve been putting up with your smug face all this time because of Lily. I’m done. You think you’re better than me? Well, you’re not. My daughter is staying here in Chicago with her dad and if she ends up in foster care so be it. She’s tough. She’ll be fine.”

“Get out.” Julian left his chair and, if she hadn’t moved past him as soon as he had opened the door, he would have dragged her out of the room.

He slammed the door behind her and pressed both hands against it. Convinced he would be soon out of a job, he let his head hang forward as he heard her cursing and shouting down the hall. Instead of fear, Julian felt relief. He shouldn’t continue to do his job if he couldn’t help someone like Lily.

• • •

Less than two hours later, Julian sat in the office of Dr. Bruno Rodriguez, the head of the psychiatry department. Julian had been throwing his books inside a cardboard box when he received the call.

“I’ve started to pack my things,” Julian said to the man behind the large desk that was littered with papers.

“In a tidy-up mode are you, Dr. Reeve? Because, if you’re looking for part-time work as a maid, I could use your services, as you can see.” He grabbed some folders off his desk and then let them fall, not paying attention to where they landed.

“I’m resigning. Saves you the trouble of firing me.”

“I’m glad you realize what happened earlier today between you and Mrs. Hamilton is unacceptable.”

“Yes, it’s unacceptable, but I don’t regret it. I wish I had said more.”

“You know what else is unacceptable?” Dr. Rodriguez reached inside one of the desk drawers and pulled out a cigarette. Julian had heard rumors that Rodriguez kept a pack of cigarettes in his desk, a memento from when he was a chain-smoker, and every time he embarked on a long conversation with one of his doctors, he pulled out a cigarette and held it between his fingers with the expertise of a veteran.

Julian didn’t understand why the cigarette had made an appearance. Their arguments about Julian’s methods as a psychologist were ongoing and, Julian imagined, if anyone would be happy to see him leave the hospital as fast as he could it would be Rodriguez. But he didn’t seem happy at all. Instead, Rodriguez appeared to be waiting for an answer to his question.

“That I waited this long to resign?” Julian’s words lacked irony. He felt defeated.

“No.” Rodriguez still held the cigarette between his fingers. “That my best doctor thinks he can just pack up and go.”

Julian didn’t know how to respond.

“You never thought you would hear me say that, did you?” Rodriguez’s austere expression broke into a smirk. “Well, neither did I.”

Julian chose to remain silent.

“I don’t like you,” Rodriguez continued. “But you’re great at what you do, which makes my personal opinion of you irrelevant. I want you to take some time to resolve whatever it is you have going on in your life. And once you’re done, I want you back here.”

“What happened earlier had nothing to do with my personal life.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Julian knew he had replied too fast. He sounded defensive.

“I don’t know how you have managed not to fuck up until today but I know a floundering man when I see one. Get your act together, then, come back. A personal leave is my way of saying thank you for caring as much as you do. But I won’t be thanking you ever again.”

Julian rose from his chair but then hesitated. He sat down again. “Lily, my patient, will go into foster care. She won’t survive. What can we do?”

“Dr. Reeve, the foster system is there to catch kids failed by their families. When the system fails them, the best thing we can do is to let them go so we can help the kids who still have a chance. We invest our time, energy, and resources where they can be the most effective. Happy endings. Everyone likes happy endings, right Dr. Reeve?”

At that moment he didn’t care that Rodriguez had offered him an opportunity to save his job at the hospital or, more than that, an opportunity to save the career he had worked so hard to build. In his mind, Julian saw himself beating Rodriguez to a pulp. But such reaction would get him arrested and subsequently bring even more police scrutiny into his life. For that reason alone, Julian didn’t act on his violent urge.

As he stood up, he knocked down a large pile of papers that teetered on the edge of the desk. If Rodriguez saw it as a premeditated act to challenge him, Julian didn’t care.

After he left Rodriguez’s office, Julian went to finish packing up his things. Whether he faced personal leave or resignation, he didn’t want to abandon his collection of psychology books. He felt attached to them. He tossed the last couple in the box and reached for the only picture in his office—a framed photograph of him and Hazel the day he had obtained his GED. The expression of pride in Hazel’s eyes as he held the diploma in front of him made Julian pause. That had been a rare happy day for both of them.

He drove across town toward Hazel’s house with Odetta’s music playing on the car stereo. Odetta’s sorrowful voice forced him to acknowledge how lost he felt. When he caught himself dialing Meredith’s number, he ended the call before she had the chance to answer. He cursed, frustrated by his instinct to reach out to her.

By the time he arrived at Hazel’s it had started to rain. He sat with her on the front porch to watch the summer storm.

“How are you feeling?”

Hazel looked up at him and her expression didn’t change. Not a hint of recognition in her eyes. “Who are you?”

Julian almost told her the truth but, fearing an angry reaction, decided to choose the safe answer. “I’m a friend of your son, Julian. Do you remember Julian?”

“Of course I remember Julian. I’m his mother. A mother never forgets.”

He tried to smile but failed. “I spoke with him recently.”

“Why doesn’t he come visit me anymore? I wait for him but then he never comes.”

“He’s going through a tough time. He doesn’t want you to worry.”

“What kind of trouble is he in now? Is he in jail?” Now Hazel sounded frantic.

“He’s not in jail.” Julian wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “No problems with the police.” Not absolutely true, but he needed to reassure her. “It’s Sofia…she’s…”

For him, Alana would always be his lover with an unwavering adoration for used books, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and cold, gloomy winter days. Alana was the one who had been killed. Sofia remained an eight-year-old child to whom he had been an older brother. But Alana’s death meant he would never again see that young girl. Now he mourned the death of a person with two separate identities and to each one he had given a different part of himself.

“Sofia died,” he said.

Hazel didn’t offer him any words in return.

“I spent twenty-three years wishing I could see her and Tatiana, speak to them and now…” Julian’s voice wavered. “She reminded me of them but I never thought, never believed—”

“Who is Sofia?”

Hazel’s question discouraged him but it didn’t silence him. “Sofia Dulgorukova, one of the twins. Do you remember them?”

“The Russian girls?”

Julian nodded and, in response, she caressed his hair. Unsure of how to react, he stood still. He didn’t remember her showing him a physical gesture of affection before. In the weight of her hand on the back of his head Julian felt for the first time the love he knew Hazel had for him.

The noise of a car parking in front of Hazel’s house got their attention. As soon as Julian saw the tall woman in the two-piece suit he tried to regain his composure.

Earlier, as he was leaving the hospital, he had called Kimberly Simmons, a social worker he trusted. When Julian had started his first year at Lurie, Kimberly had already been working within the system for twenty years. She was well past the age of retirement and every time they crossed paths, she told Julian she would be retiring the next year.

“I can’t linger,” she said as she sat down. She glanced at Hazel, who stared at the rain. “Sorry dear, how are you doing?”

Hazel ignored Kimberly’s question.

“It takes her a while to warm up to people she doesn’t interact with often,” Julian said.

“I’ve known your mom even from before I met you. I know who we’re dealing with. But let’s talk about why you called me. How long will you be away? I need you at Lurie.”

“There’s this girl, Lily Hamilton. She’s going into care. I know that sometimes you take in some kids. I need you to take in this one.”

“I can’t. I stopped doing that.”

“Please Kimberly, she’s in bad shape. I e-mailed you her file, have you had a chance to look at it?”

“I have, and that’s why I can’t take her. She needs a lot of help and I already have dozens of kids who need me. I’m spread so thin I can’t even tell you. I can’t offer her the support she needs.” Kimberly shook her head. “I can’t be her foster mom in good conscience.”

“Listen, I know how much you have on your plate. That’s why it’s hard for me to ask this of you, but whatever you give her will be, without a doubt, better than she’s going to get anywhere else. The families who are willing to take in a kid like her won’t be enough. What do you think will happen when she goes to live in a house that’s bursting at the seams with foster kids? Or worse, a group home? You won’t be alone in this. While I’m away she’s going to continue to receive treatment at Lurie. I won’t leave you high and dry. I’ll help you with whatever you need. I’ll help you deal with Lily.”

Kimberly gave him a hard look. “If that girl kills herself under my care I’ll never forgive you.”

“It won’t happen.”

“You can’t promise me that and you know it. These kids are ticking bombs.”

“I have no one else to turn to.”

“How come you got this involved? It’s not like you haven’t dealt with kids like her before. Kids way more troubled.”

Julian had anticipated the question but hoped Kimberly wouldn’t ask it. Seeing how much he sought from her, he didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to explain himself.

“I recently lost someone close to me. I can’t lose anyone else.” He left unsaid his need to do for Lily what he failed to do for Sofia.

“Of course it goes beyond Lily.” Kimberly didn’t sound happy but her voice carried no criticism. “It’s like they say, you’re trying to save yourself by saving the kid.”

“We all have that one kid we can’t shake off.” He looked at Hazel. He had been that child for her.

“Sadly,” Kimberly added.

Julian didn’t know much about Kimberly’s personal life, but he gathered from the expression on her face that she had also experienced it.

“It’s important no one knows I reached out to you. Lily’s mother and I had a disagreement. She’s choosing to walk away from her daughter, but if she suspects I had anything to do with arranging her placement she’s going to cause problems. This has to stay between you and I.”

“I’m agreeing to help this kid out. I’m in all the way. That woman has no idea what she has coming her way if she tries to fuck with me.” Kimberly gave Julian a glimpse of the dedication that made her such a great social worker. “How did you get hard-ass Rodriguez to agree to give you time off?”

“I didn’t. It was his idea. I still don’t know if I’ll go back.”

“I guess after all these years you two were bound to come to a head. I’ll take Lily in but you have to promise me that you’ll return to Lurie.”

“That’s a hard bargain, Kimberly.”

“Come back when you’re ready.”

Rodriguez had said the same thing. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’ll start working on Lily’s case,” she said, already halfway down the porch steps. “Nice to see you, Hazel.”

Not waiting for a response, she got into her rusty 1993 white Honda Accord and drove away under the pouring rain.

“Julian?”

He wondered if Hazel’s calling him by his name meant this was one of the brief but valued moments when she regained her lucidity.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m right here.”

“Who died?”

Her recognizing him made it harder for Julian to speak about it. “Sofia. One of the Dulgorukova twins.”

“I remember her. How about Tatiana?”

Regardless of what he might want to share, protecting Hazel remained more important. “I don’t know.”

Hazel went silent and Julian wondered if he had lost her again. Minutes went by.

“Tell Tatiana I wouldn’t mind seeing her,” Hazel said. “Tell her that it’s safe. Tell her that Julian is gone.”

• • •

Julian left Hazel’s home well past midnight and drove straight to The Raven Room. As he entered the club and made his way toward the lower level, he had the unnerving feeling that time stood still. Once inside, it was impossible to tell if it was day or night. He knew this intentional, unchanging atmosphere lulled the club members into a dreamlike state where they would eventually succumb to everything the club had to offer.

The usual seductive jazz and blues music had been replaced by the psychedelic rock melodies of Pink Floyd for the club’s Alternative Night—an event that took place every other month. The soft, deep red lighting had vanished. Kaleidoscopic lights gave the illusion that all the surfaces, furniture, and people were being showered with slow-moving, oversized, colorful glitter.

Glad he wasn’t under the effect of drugs, Julian squinted, trying to regain his bearings amidst the loud music and disorienting lighting. He was about to enter the long corridor with red walls when he saw someone he recognized—the man who smoked the black dragon cigars. The two of them stared each other down until the man smirked. Julian turned his back on him.

Focusing on his reason for being there, Julian’s heart beat faster as he approached the last door on the left. He stood, head bowed down, eyes closed. He took a deep breath and turned the doorknob.

“You’re here.” Those were the first words that came out of Julian’s mouth as soon as he saw the woman on the bed. He felt relieved.

“Didn’t you ask for me?”

“I did…” Julian sat on the chair in the corner of the room. “What happened last time?”

She laughed, rolling into her stomach. “I’m not sure. We were pretty fucked up.”

“I thought I had killed you.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

The room was too warm. Julian felt the heat of the nearby candles on his skin.

The woman kneeled at his feet. She brought a mirror closer to him. “It’s a new designer mix. Premium quality.”

He saw the powder on the mirror. “I’m not doing it with you. Not tonight.”

Holding a short straw in her other hand, she smiled. “Please.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“Don’t be like that,” she pleaded, bringing the mirror to Julian’s face. “Just one rail.”

Aware that he wouldn’t be able to stop at just one line, Julian threw the mirror against the wall. The woman made a high-pitched noise as she crawled across the hardwood floor toward the shattered mirror.

“How could you?” she whispered, picking up a shard of the mirror.

Julian knew he should be moved by what he saw—her naked, on her knees, crying—but he saw too much of himself in her to feel compassion.

She crawled back to him. “You have to do something for me. You have to.” She placed the shard on his palm, begging as she held onto his hand. “You have to.”

Remaining at his feet, she guided his hand to her naked breast. “Cut me. You know that’s what you want.”

Feeling the shard between his fingers, Julian stared at her breasts.

“You can’t say no. I know you,” she whispered.

With blood roaring in his ears, Julian ran the back of his hand across her breast. He wanted to touch all of her. Not tenderly, as he did now, but with the ruthlessness he had been born with.

“I know you,” she repeated, her eyes wide.

Julian slid from the chair and met her on the floor. He closed his mouth on her breast and she let her head fall back. He sucked on her nipple and didn’t stop until she started to moan. That was when he moved away from her. “I can’t…”

“Call me by the name you always use. The name you like,” she said in earnest, fondling him over his suit pants. “C’mon, say it.”

He closed his eyes, hoping he was strong enough to fend off the blunt desire growing in him. She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and reached inside of his underwear. The name formed in his throat and Julian felt shame.

“Say it,” she demanded, stroking his bare flesh.

With every muscle in his body as tense and hard as his member in her hand, Julian held the piece of the broken mirror tightly between his fingers. His lips moved from her forehead to her temple. “Tatia.” The name escaped his lips, almost a whimper.

“Again.”

“Tatia,” he whispered as his mouth met hers. “Tatia,” he repeated, breaking the kiss. She tightened her hold on him and he groaned in response.

“Cut me,” she said, her breathing shallow.

Julian lowered his head to her breast and the sharp edge of the mirror followed the light caress of his lips. She held her breath and didn’t move. Even before he had lifted the piece of mirror from her flesh, bright red blood seeped from the cut. He watched, entranced as it dripped over her ribcage and down her stomach.

With her free hand she smeared it on her skin. “More. Cut me more.”

His eyes traveled to her face and the realization of what he was doing to her jolted him. He fell back toward the chair. “I want to leave,” he uttered, his hands unsteady.

“That’s not what your cock is telling me.” She moved her hand along his erection and Julian’s body involuntarily swayed forward, craving what she offered. “Fuck me the way you love. Hard. Until I scream for you to stop.”

Julian pushed her away from him. He stood up, fumbling with his zipper.

“Are you running away again?”

The candles cast large, dancing shadows on her body. She rested her bloodstained fingers on his lips and, with his back against the wall, Julian felt breathless.

“I came here tonight to make sure you’re OK.” His lips rubbed against her wet fingertips as he spoke. He was close to hyperventilating.

She shook her head. “That’s not why you’re here.”

Julian ignored her, making his way toward the door. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, stopping him.

“Don’t leave.”

“Let me go.”

“No!” She tightened her hold on him.

Seizing her wrists, he pulled her away from him. She stumbled and caught herself on the opposite wall. “You’ll come back. You always do.”

She laughed as Julian left the room.