Tinker?" A tiny young woman
wearing a long white coat over green hospital scrubs stood beside
them. "Erin wants to see you."
"Oh, thank you, Dr. Duncan. Is it all
right if we go in?"
"Of course, Mom," Annabelle said, more
sharply than she'd wanted.
"Just a moment, please." The doctor, a
redheaded sprite of a thing, with wire-rimmed glasses on her
upturned pixie nose and the small, delicate features Annabelle had
always wished for, sat down beside Annabelle's mother. "I do want
to warn you to be prepared for some pretty wild things. Erin has
apparently had some sort of shock. Frankly, I'd have to diagnose
her as delusional based on my preliminary examination."
Finally! Annabelle sat up, energized.
Data. Facts. Evidence. Something concrete to grab on to.
"What makes you say she's delusional,
Doctor?" At the doctor's questioning look, Annabelle gave a tight
smile and added, "I'm Erin's sister, Annabelle."
"Ms. Tinker, nice to meet you." Dr.
Duncan smiled sadly, offering her hand. "I'll let you hear it in
Erin's own words. Let me caution you, though. Don't argue with her.
Go along with her if you think you can be convincing. Sometimes
these cases become worse when they think they're being patronized.
We don't want to upset her further by making her think we don't
believe her. It could lead her to paranoid fantasies of
persecution, which could result in more aggressive
behavior."
"Oh," Susan moaned.
"Come on, Mom," Annabelle said, setting
her hand under her mother's elbow and helping her to her feet.
"Thank you, Dr. Duncan."
Dr. Duncan smiled and nodded. "It's
that room there."
Annabelle tried to return the smile and
led her mother toward the room.
"I can't, Annabelle."
"Yes, you can. Erin needs
us."
She pushed open the door, and then
pushed her mother through.
"Annabelle." Erin sat up, arms
reaching.
Releasing her mother, Annabelle
practically ran to her sister's bedside, wrapping Erin in a
hug.
"Oh, honey, what on earth
happened?"
"You won't believe me. Nobody believes
me."
Annabelle remembered the doctor's
warnings. "Try me."
Erin glanced up, then over at her
mother. "Mom, can you listen now?"
Erin's tone forced Annabelle to study
her more closely. She was calm. Her eyes were clear. There was
nothing of a cloudy, crazed look in them. Her hands were steady as
she reached forward for her mother to come closer.
Their mother was the one who needed a
sedative, but she did come to the side of the bed to sit in the
ugly, brown plastic armchair. Annabelle moved its tattered twin
beside it, but, instead of sitting, she grasped Erin's outstretched
hand in her own.
"All right, sweetheart," their mother
said, her voice slow and loud, as though talking to a small, rather
backward child. "Tell me."
Eyes rolling upward, Erin sighed. "Mom,
I'm nuts, not deaf." She shared a smile with Annabelle before
adding, "At least, they think I'm nuts after they heard what I told
them."
"What did you tell them?" Annabelle
asked.
With a big breath, Erin sat up and
gripped Annabelle's hand.
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