I stopped my sniffling but held on to my father’s hand.
“Catatonia?” my father asked.
“It’s generally described as an abnormality of movement and behavior arising from a disturbed mental state.”
“What mental state?”
“In her case, I’m pretty positive it’s schizophrenia, Mr. Fitzgerald. I think she’s been suffering with it for some time. Some time before she was brought here,” she added.
My father sat back, his anger checked, but he was far from satisfied. “I didn’t see any of this catatonia when I visited the last time,” he said.
“It was coming on. You weren’t here frequently enough to notice the developing symptoms.” It didn’t sound like a criticism but more like a simple fact. “Catatonia can take different forms. In Haylee’s case, it takes the form of rigidity. If it took the other form, catatonic excitement or excessive movement, she’d be taking violent action against herself. We should be grateful for little things,” she added, which I guessed was her attempt to lighten the mood.
My father didn’t look like he appreciated it. “So exactly what just happened with Kaylee?” he asked.
“Disappointingly, the confrontation was too much for Haylee. She went into a catatonic stupor. She was, and still is at this moment, mute and rigid.”
“How long will she be like this?” he asked.
“It’s hard to say. It could last a while, even though a prolonged period would be painful. If it goes on too long this time, I’ll put her on some medication that will help, but the principal cause of it is what we’ll be spending most of our time on now.”
“You said schizophrenia?”
“There are complicated things happening to her right now, Mr. Fitzgerald. One of them is, naturally, her paranoia. She believes everyone, even people who don’t know her, knows what she has done and is out to harm her in some way. I was hoping that confronting Kaylee might ease that symptom.”
“Maybe it did,” my father said hopefully. He looked more like a parent concerned about his child now.
“I don’t think so, Mr. Fitzgerald. What I saw was a reinforcement of her deeply seated sibling rivalry. She was hoping to be stronger, prettier perhaps, considering what Kaylee has experienced, but instead, Haylee suffered some deeper disappointment. She was not prettier.”
“But she cut her own hair,” I said. “She didn’t want to be pretty.”
“Contradictions. Yes. She was punishing herself, but I think when she entered the room, she was anticipating you would still look worse. As I said . . . in her eyes, you were the one who had suffered.”
My father’s eyes narrowed for a moment. He glanced at me and then back at Dr. Alexander. “She doesn’t feel any guilt, then. Is that what you’re saying? We shouldn’t have come after all,” he said. “There was nothing good that could come of it.”
“Maybe not. I was, as I said, hoping for some retreat in these symptoms, especially the paranoia.”
She turned to me.
“You and your sister have had such an unusual relationship. It was and remains perhaps only you who can get to her. She wants that, but she resents it, too. Complicated,” she said again. It was beginning to annoy me. It seemed like an easy way out, an explanation for everything.
“What will happen to her now?” I asked.
“More intense therapy.” She leaned forward. “Did you know how your sister would react to your looking so pretty, Kaylee? You do know each other so well, better than most sisters know each other, right? Is that why you wore that obviously sexy dress and made up your face before you came? You wanted some sort of revenge?”
“Stop that!” my father snapped instantly, and he stood. “I won’t permit an iota of guilt to be placed at this girl’s feet after what her sister did to her. You read her psychiatrist’s report.”
“Did you really come here to see whether you and your sister could stop hating each other, Kaylee?” she pursued, ignoring my father.
“Yes,” I said. “I did. I’m sorry if everything’s become . . . more complicated now.”
My father reached for my hand so that I would stand, too. “That’s enough,” he said. “I’ll be in touch. Perhaps through my attorney.”
He almost physically turned me toward the door.
“It’s important that you and I talk again, Kaylee,” Dr. Alexander called to me, totally ignoring my father. “When you’re ready.”
“Go,” my father ordered, opening the door.