Postcards from the Edge

Epilogue

DEAR DR. BLAU,

Of course I remember you. Who else would have sent me a stuffed animal exactly like the one he gave me after he pumped my stomach, only twenty times the size? When you gave me the little one three years ago in the hospital, I thought it was a thumb of some kind. Now, though, in its enormous form, I see that, of course, it’s a dolphin. How great. No one’s ever given me a giant pink dolphin before. How did you know I’ve always wanted one? You must think I’m very inconsiderate for not acknowledging your first letter sooner, but I’ve just moved to a new house, I’m rehearsing a play, my grandfather died, and I’m inconsiderate.

I hardly know where to begin in response to your question about “what I’ve been up to for the past two and a half years.” Suffice to say that the last time I did dope was the last time I saw you—and nothing personal, but I don’t want to see you or anyone else standing next to me with a hose ever again (unless we’re standing over flowers in a backyard).

Sometimes I feel like my life ended and I’m still here. Other times I feel so calm, I swear I can hear air moving slowly over the earth. I still eat junk, I don’t exercise enough, and last week I had a cigarette. But I figure if I had to give up everything I put between me and my feelings, I’d stand at the center of my being and howl like a lonely old dog.

Unfortunately, I am not “available for dating,” as you so quaintly inquired. I am presently living with someone, and have been for over a year. I guess I like it. One of the hardest habits for me to break is taking the right things the wrong way. If I was available, though, I would definitely consider you as an escort, since even after I’d thrown up on you, you said you found me “interesting.” For that I am truly grateful.

I had what I call my triumphant return to the Cedars Sinai emergency room a while back for a burn, but I didn’t see you there.

Your psychodrama group sounds intriguing, but I think I’ll stick to conventional therapy for now. I still don’t think I feel the way I perceive other people to feel. I don’t know if the problem lies in my perception or my comfort. Either way I come out fighting, wrestling with my nature, as it were. And golly, what a mother of a nature it is. Sometimes, though, I’ll be driving, listening to loud music with the day spreading out all over, and I’ll feel something so big and great—a feeling as loud as the music. It’s as though my skin is the only thing that keeps me from going everywhere all at once. If all of this doesn’t tell you exactly what I’m doing, it should tell you how I’m feeling when I’m doing whatever it is.

Thanks again for the dolphin and your letter. I hope this finds you well and still on the right side of that hose. I have to sign off or I’ll be late for my shrink. I’m expecting a breakthrough any decade now.

P.S. That night in the emergency room, do you recall if I threw up something I needed? Some small but trivial thing that belonged inside? I distinctly feel as though I’m missing something.

But then, I always have.