Entwined

Chapter 12

"I am going to take you back in time now, Vebekka. Can you see the calendar, the years are in red ink... ninety-one, ninety... can you see the date, Vebekka?"

"Yes, I can see it."

"Go back, eighty-nine, ten years before that, go through the dates... what year do you see now on the calendar?"

Vebekka sighed. "Nineteen seventy-nine. It is 1979."

Franks looked to the two-way mirror, then turned to Vebekka.

The baron tapped Helen's hand. "That was the year of the newspapers."

Franks continued. "Go to the morning in New York when you were reading the newspaper, sitting having breakfast with your husband. Can you remember that morning?"

She sighed, gave a low moan, and then nodded. "I am reading the real estate pages... Louis is reading the main section. I talk to him, but he pays no attention, I tell him... an apartment is for sale, but he doesn't listen to me."

"Goon..."

She sighed and her brow furrowed as if she were trying to recall something.

"Go on, Vebekka, you see something in the paper?"

She breathed quickly, gasping. "Yes... yes... Angel, Angel, ANGEL."

She twisted and turned, shaking. "They have found him..."

"Who, Vebekka? Whom have they found?"

She ran her hands through her hair. "It's in the paper, it's in the papers, I have to find all the papers, I have to know if it's true. Angel, the dark Angel of Death will find me, he put the message in the paper to find me."

"It's all right... it's all right, no need to be alarmed. Who is the angel? Is it the angel who makes you so frightened?"

She banged the sofa with her fists. "They will know what I have done. He knows what I have done... Oh! God help me!"

Franks raised his voice and told her to advance to the next morning. She calmed down, and said that the next day she remained very quiet, and didn't mention anything to anyone about what she had seen. She had had a nightmare, she had thought the Angel had come into her bedroom to make her tell, but it had been just a shadow, just the drapes.

Franks wrote down on his pad that they must trace the newspaper. He was certain he was dealing with a woman traumatized by an event in her childhood, but when he began to discuss her childhood she became very calm. She seemed relieved. When he asked if she was Vebekka or Rebecca she giggled, told him not to be stupid, she was Rebecca.

She began to talk quite freely. She described her home in Philadelphia, discussed her parents. She said they were kind, but never very affectionate toward her, she said that they were very close to each other, that she had often felt like an intruder.

"Did this upset you?"

"Not really. They always gave me what I asked for, they just seemed more interested in each other. My mother was often unhappy, she used to say she missed her home, her family, but they would never speak to her, they sent back all her letters unopened. She was often crying, and often ill: She used to get bronchial troubles, that was why they had moved from Canada — it was very cold there, and Mama had been very ill."

Franks asked if she loved her parents. She hesitated, and then shrugged with her hands. "They loved each other, and they fed and clothed me."

"So you never felt a great affection for them?"

"No... just that they kept me safe, they watched out for me, no one could hurt me while I was with them, they told me that."

"Who wanted to hurt you?"

"I don't know."

Franks asked her to recall her first memory of her mother. She pursed her lips and said, "She gave me a blue dress, with a white pinafore and a teddy bear."

"How old were you then?"

She seemed to be trying to recall her age, but in the end she shrugged her shoulders and said she was not sure. He asked if she was afraid of her parents, and she said very promptly that she was not. "They were afraid of me! Always afraid, afraid..."

"Had they reason to be afraid of you?"

"Yes, I was very naughty, had terrible tantrums."

"What did they do when you had these tantrums?"

"Oh, Mama would talk to me, get me to lie down and talk to me, you know, so I would calm down."

"Did they try and stop you leaving home?"

She laughed. "Oh no... they were pleased, I think they were pleased when I left!"

"Did you miss them when you left?"

"Yes... yes sometimes, but Mama helped me often, told me how to handle Rebecca."

"What did she tell you to do?"

"Oh, put her in a closet, throw away the key, forget her."

"So it was not your idea to change your name?"

"Yes, it was, it was all my idea, I never told Mama what I had done, and I never told Papa. I just did what Mama said, put her away."

"Is the other box inside you?"

She started to twist her hands, plucking at the blanket. "Yes, yes, that is always there."

"Did your mama put somebody in the box?"

"It's not a box!"

Franks was growing tired; he rubbed his head, checked his watch. "What is it then?"

She remained silent, her face taut as she refused to answer.

"Why don't you want to tell me about it?"

She seemed to be in terrible pain, her face became distorted.

She opened her mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out.

Franks stood by the couch. "It's all right, shushhh, don't get upset, I won't ask you about it anymore. It's all over. Unless you want to tell me. Do you want to tell me?"

She cried, her mouth wide open like a child's, her face twisted, and the blanket was wrung into a coil between her hands. He waited; in the viewing room the baron rose to his feet. He hated to see his wife in such pain; he pressed his hands to the glass. "Stop him, tell him to stop this..."

She was clawing, trying to get up; Franks gently held on to her shoulders.

Her scream made him step back; it was a scream rising from a terrible depth, it was a howl. Her body shook.

Franks asked her over and over what was happening, but the torture continued, her body thrashed about, she was out of control.

"Vebekka, listen to me, the longing time, come back to the longing... Can you hear me? Longing... Come on, come on, wake up! Everything is all right, you've been sleeping, you'll wake up refreshed, relaxed."

But her body was stiff, he was not able to wake her. Once more he began to repeat the key word between them, but whatever it was, it held her, and she was fighting it, fighting to get it out of her.

The baron turned helplessly to Helen. "It's as if she were possessed. Can't he stop it?... Tell him to stop!"

Vebekka gasped, panting, saying she was coming up the stairs, rounding the spiral staircase, but she could not find the door. Franks was quick to pick up, he said the door was in front of her, she could open it. She began to relax, her breathing quieted down, and she sighed. He moved back as she sighed again and her eyelids fluttered.

Awake, she lifted her arms above her head and yawned, like a cat. She stretched her whole body, and then curled up.

"I am so thirsty..."

Franks rang for Maja, and poured her a glass of water. She drank avidly, and held out the glass for more. He refilled it, and she drained it again. Maja came in, and smiled to Vebekka, asked how she was feeling and Vebekka laughed. "Good, I feel very relaxed and refreshed..."

Franks was exhausted, Helen and the baron drained. They left Maja with Vebekka while they got together in the small office.

"She has been through deep hypnosis before — when I don't know, but she knows how to hypnotize herself, bring herself through the waking cycles. I had no control over her for some considerable time. I have never witnessed anything like it, it is quite extraordinary. But we must try and ascertain when this occurred, because she is in a dangerous state. You witnessed yourselves her own deep struggle. Whatever she has locked, she refuses to unleash. God only knows what she was involved in, or subjected to... the key to her lies in that box, chest, the thing that is so hidden inside her, with chains, locks, God knows what else... but it is inside her. It is imperative that we find out the nature of the hypnosis she has been subjected to on previous occasions. Somebody at some time treated her, made her lock away horrors, and what you have witnessed, Baron, what we have all seen here today, is the danger that can result. Vebekka, Rebecca has repressed a trauma, hidden it deep inside her mind, and it rears up. When this occurs, it brings her to the edge of a breakdown. If we find out what it is, your wife may, with time and therapy, be able to face and deal with the trauma. But we also must acknowledge that we are dealing with the unknown. Others may argue that she has survived only by locking this trauma away. It will have to be your decision whether we continue or not. I sincerely hope, however, you will agree to pursue these sessions."

The baron stared, nonplussed. He could not tell whether Franks believed he could help his wife. He turned helplessly to Helen, who looked away.

"It must be your decision."

"But what about Vebekka, doesn't she have a say in this matter?"

Franks stared at his shoes. "Your wife has no memory of what occurred in that room, none whatsoever. As her husband, it must be your decision."

"But what if she goes crazy... as you said, if you open up this trauma, and she cannot face it, then what?"

Franks still refused to look up. "Then she will continue as she has done. There will be sane periods, insane periods, spasmodic logic, violent moods. Who knows what will happen? All we know is that she has, in your own words, grown steadily worse. She has attacked your daughter, you, your sons..."

The baron pinched his nose, looked again at Helen, wanting, needing confirmation — anything to assist his decision — but she turned away.

"What time would you like to see her tomorrow?"

Franks nodded. "Good, you have made the right decision. Let's say nine, to have an early start."

Vebekka felt better than she had for a long time, even though she had taken no drugs for two, almost three days. She wanted to eat out, go to some of the clubs, and Louis agreed. But first Vebekka said they should go to the hotel to check whether there were any messages. Perhaps she would call Sasha. Then, after dinner, they would decide where to go. Louis was exhausted, had no desire to go to clubs; neither did Helen, but she giggled good-naturedly. The patient was full of energy, having slept most of the day! Helen suggested to Vebekka that maybe she should rest, take care of herself, but in reply all she got was a pinch on the cheek.

"Don't be such a fuddy-duddy, Helen. If my darling husband is too tired, then you and I will go; some of the Berlin clubs are the most famous in the world."

There were letters and two packages for the baron at the hotel desk. Helen went up in the elevator with Vebekka, but returned to her own suite for a shower. Louis read more material pertaining to his wife's background: names of schoolgirls who could be contacted, schoolteachers... He knocked on Helen's door and entered with the papers.

Helen read over the letters, and then asked if the newspapers had arrived, and the baron nodded; they would have to look through them. Helen had already decided that she would see what else she could find out about Rosa Goldberg, née Muller. The baron asked Helen if they should dine in the suite or in the restaurant. She said she would prefer the restaurant. He booked a table for eight-thirty and returned to his room to shower and change. He heard Vebekka on the telephone talking to Sasha, and called out to send his love. He said they would be dining in the hotel restaurant at eight-thirty.

Shortly before eight Louis went to see if Vebekka was ready, but she was not in her room. She had changed; the clothes she had been wearing were on the bed. He called down to reception to see if she had gone ahead to the restaurant, but she was not there. Helen came in and they searched the suite. Helen spoke to Hilda, who said she had helped Vebekka to dress and presumed she had gone to the restaurant.

The manager signaled to the baron as soon as he saw him get off the elevator. He gestured to the main foyer. "The baroness has just left."

The baron went pale. "Did she say where she was going?"

"No, Baron, I think she took a cab from the taxi stand outside, would you like me to inquire?"

The baron shook his head, gripped Helen by the elbow and guided her through the revolving door. He was angry and swore under his breath. As they stepped onto the red carpet, he curtly questioned the doorman, who told him that he had just missed the baroness.

"Do you know where she went?"

The doorman looked puzzled and ran to the taxi stand, signaling for the baron to join him by a waiting cab. The driver popped his head out.

"She asked to be driven around to some clubs, I heard her say. We can catch them... no problem."

The baron turned back to the hotel, and Helen hurried after him. "Louis, what are you doing? Don't you want to go after her?"

"I have been going after her all my life. She can do what she wants. I am hungry, I want to eat."

Helen hesitated; she knew that in spite of his words, Louis was very distressed. The baron went halfway toward the dining room before he stopped. "Perhaps I should return to the suite, have something sent up. I'll wait half an hour and if she has not returned I'll contact the police."

The walked to the elevator. Louis rubbed his forehead with his hand. "Why? Dear God, why is she doing this? I don't understand. She seemed so full of energy and... I had hope."

Vebekka sat in the back of the taxi feeling like a truant schoolgirl. She wore her dark glasses, her sable cape, and a pale green cashmere top with matching slacks. She had taken great care in applying her makeup: thick eye shadow and a dark foundation. Her lips were outlined in a bright, unflattering crimson. This was makeup from her special box, makeup she used only on special occasions. She lit a cigarette and as she dropped the lighter back into her bag, realized she had no money. She tapped the glass.

"I have no money. Can you give me some?"

He stopped the car, turned back to her. "You want to go to the hotel? Yes? Get money? Yes?"

She shook her head. "No, you pay for me, okay? I am borrowing from you."

The driver turned and hit the wheel with his hand. "You must have cash! Cash only, understand?"

Vebekka opened her bag, took out her solid gold lighter. "Take this, gold... good gold."

The driver looked first at the lighter, then back at Vebekka, and put the car in gear with a broad smile. "Okay. Where you want to go?"

Vebekka looked from the window. "Clubs... take me to some clubs."