‘I think it’s time we consider medication, Mrs Saunders,’ Dr Michelson said quietly, rubbing the back of Maggie’s head as she scribbled on paper at the child-sized desk in his office. ‘She’s five now and coming up on kindergarten in the fall, and it would be good to find the right medication to help her cope with all the changes that are going to take place then. I know you’ve been resistant and so have I, but I think if we focus on her anxiety issues now and the hyperactivity, that may lessen the aggression and the tantrums. The tantrums are, as you know, born out of frustration. She feels helpless in certain situations and so she breaks down. Part of the reason she feels helpless is because of the hyperactivity. She didn’t understand what was asked of her, or she didn’t hear it or she wasn’t focused enough to do what was asked of her. The Adderall will help her focus so that she is not so easily distracted, and so she doesn’t get frustrated.’
Faith nodded. ‘Yes. I want what’s best for her. If you say medicating her will help her, then I agree.’ Right now, at this very moment, what she loved most about the kind doctor was that he hadn’t mentioned the Poole case other than to ask how Maggie had handled testifying at the competency hearing and what her behavior had been like since. He hadn’t asked Faith about her stint in rehab or why she hadn’t helped the Santri girl or why she’d lied on the stand. He smiled at her and behind his glasses his soft blue eyes didn’t seem to judge her.
‘Good. I’ll write up the prescription, give you some samples and meet you outside,’ he said as he walked her and Maggie out of his office and into the waiting room.
Maggie immediately ran over to the play area and Faith sat down in a chair. She’d totally forgotten about today’s appointment with Michelson. She’d strapped Maggie in her car seat and gotten behind the wheel, determined to find something to quiet the paranoid whispers in her head, when the alarm on her cell went off, reminding her of the three o’clock appointment. It was a sign, she knew. A message from God. She wasn’t religious, but she needed to be right now. She needed to believe in signs. She’d passed Lefty’s Tavern and Falafal Wine Bar and the Publix Liquor Store and drove straight to Dr Michelson’s, ignoring the angry, thirsty creature that was still shouting for her to turn into a strip mall and get her a goddamn drink.
‘Mrs Saunders?’
She walked up to the checkout desk. Janet, the office manager, handed her a bag full of samples and two prescriptions. ‘The doctor wants to see Maggie back here in ten days. Make sure you follow the instructions and call us if there are any problems.’
Faith nodded. She thanked Janet and tucked the prescriptions and samples in her purse and went to gather Maggie from the Supermaze table.
‘No wonder her kid’s messed up,’ said another mother who had walked up to check in. She was not trying to whisper. ‘Her mother’s a lying drunk.’
‘Mrs Opitz,’ Janet replied in a hushed voice. ‘Please.’
‘Have you watched the trial? It’s incredible. Have you listened to her? They should take her kid away from her. She’s a horrible example of a—’
Faith took Maggie and rushed out. Ten minutes later she was at Westview Park. Maggie was surprised. And happy.
‘Yay! The park! I want to play, Mommy!’ she yelled, pressing her face up against the window. ‘Watch me on the slides!’
As they approached the playground she let go of Maggie’s hand and watched her rush into a crowd of kids. She emerged a few minutes later alone, going down the slides, then looping through the jungle gym and crawling through the tubes. Faith walked over to the benches, far away from the other moms and nannies.
The creature inside her had added a new voice to her argument. It sounded like the nasty woman at the doctor’s. And there was Loni Hart and Sunny Hostin. A hundred voices had joined the chorus. Directly across the street was Evan’s Fine Wine and Liquors in the Ross shopping center. Was it a coincidence that she had pulled into a park with a liquor store next door? Or was it fate?
She was so tired. So very, very tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of resisting. Tired of pretending words didn’t hurt and judgmental looks didn’t condemn. She watched as Maggie made her way through the network of tube tunnels, all alone in a crowd.
Then she got up and walked across the street.