Cat Raise The Dead

21

The letter had been folded many times into a tiny rectangle no larger than a matchbook. It had been stuffed between layers of cotton filling in the belly of the doll, and the doll's stomach sewn shut again with the ragged green stitches. The letter had lain concealed for more than three months, and the doll hidden and forgotten.

Dear Mae,

I don't know if I'm being foolish in writing this. Maybe my distress and unease are only a result of my condition or of the medication they give me. Maybe that causes my shaky handwriting, too. I do feel odd, off-balance, and my hands don't work well. I was so hoping you would visit me here and that we could talk. The nurses say you haven't asked about me, but I don't believe them. I've longed to come over to your room or the social room. You're so near, just beyond this wall, but it's as if a hundred miles separate us.

The doctor told me to walk, so I have been all around the halls, but always accompanied by a nurse, and none of the nurses will let me come over to the social room. They are so needlessly stria, and I haven't the strength to defy them, not like I once had. Six months ago I wouldn't have stood for this high-handed treatment.

I haven't seen anything of your friends, Mae, though I have watched the doors where the charts are posted. I don't think any of them are here. Their names are not on the doors, and I've looked carefully.

If your fears continue, maybe you should talk to the police. But I wouldn't ask these nurses questions, they get terribly cross.

I heard the supervisor scolding one of the nurses when she thought I was asleep. Though I don't know much Spanish, just a few words, I'm sure she was saying something about a phone call and your friend Mary Nell Hook. I think she told the nurse not to answer questions from anyone, told her to tend to her own job unless she wanted-something "guardia," something about the police. Though I didn't understand much of it, the conversation frightened me. The supervisor mentioned Ms. Prior, too, in a threatening way. I think Adelina Prior can be very cold, I would not want to cross her.

I don't know if there's any connection, but twice late in the night I've awakened to see a man standing across the hall inside a darkened room, just a shadow in the blackness, looking out. And once when I woke around midnight I thought someone had been standing beside my bed watching me. Not one of the nurses but someone studying me intently, and I felt chilled and afraid-but maybe it was only my overactive imagination, or maybe the medication is affecting my nerves.

I'm putting this note inside Mollie, and I mean to ask Lupe to bring her back to you. I'll tell her that I don't want her anymore, that the doll makes me sad. I know you'll make Mollie a new dress. When you do, you'll find my stitching hidden under her skirt and slip-I just hope Lupe doesn't find it. I'll use green thread so you won't miss it-but you wouldn't miss it, my hands are no better for sewing than for writing.

I know I seem very depressed. I suppose that's natural, given my illness. Though I do wonder if the medicine doesn't make me feel worse.

I long to see you, Mae, but I'm so very tired, too tired to argue. I miss you. And I long for my friend Dillon, too. Since I came here, she hasn't written, though I have written to her several times. How strange the world has become. I feel very disoriented and sad.

With all my love,

J.