Read Online Crossings by Betty Lambert - Free Book Online Page A

said.
    Now I was seeing a therapist.
    When Ben signed himself out of Essondale, I had a long talk with the doctor in charge. Crease, I mean. Crease.
    â€˜You might need some supportive therapy yourself,’ he said.
    â€˜But what’s wrong with him?’
    â€˜The prognosis is not good,’ he said. ‘He’s a latent homosexual.’
    I didn’t believe it. I still don’t.
    â€˜We don’t usually do this, especially if you yourself were to con­sider therapy, but we think you had better think about getting a divorce.’
    â€˜Can’t he get therapy?’
    â€˜We don’t recommend it,’ the doctor said. ‘But you might con­sider the clinic. It’s free.’
    Free. Yes, well, thank you very much but I pay my way. If it’s free, how can it be good? I thanked him very much and went back to the house.
    In the mornings, Ben slept. Around noon he would get up and go down to the dining room where Francie was working on her correspondence lessons. Like me, she was exempt from public school because of ill health. Actually, she could have gone, but she hated the confusion. It was easier to whip all the lessons off in one fell swoop and then concentrate on life.
    I was upstairs at the desk but I could hear snatches of the con­versation:
    â€˜What you do is get hold of some potassium cyanide,’ Ben is saying. ‘And then you put some in a tablet, one of those cylin­der tablets you can put together. Then you get a lot of other tablets the same shape, colour, and you put them in a bottle and you take one a day, only they don’t have anything in them, or maybe baking soda, and then that way it becomes habitual.’
    â€˜But how do you get hold of the potassium cyanide?’ Francie says seriously.
    â€˜Yes. That’s the problem. Vicky could have got it if she were still at the lab.’
    And then there was the sure-fire bathtub method: ‘But Ben, if you turn off the lights, you won’t be able to see to get your wrists in position for the razor blades.’
    â€˜Oh yes, that’s right,’ Ben says. This is the one where he gets into a hot bath so he can’t feel a thing, and the machine comes down, automatically, and
slice.
The lights had to be out so he couldn’t see the water turning red.
    Francie comes up from the States and I say to her, now, ‘What else happened that fall? I can’t remember clearly. What were Ben’s great suicide plots?’
    â€˜Oh god, I don’t know,’ and she laughs. ‘Ben was great.’
    â€˜Great?’
    â€˜He was so funny, even about suicide. The Rube Goldberg varia­tions. He was so great.’
    â€˜I can’t remember. About his jokes. I know he was funny. But I can’t remember. It’s not fair, not to put in how funny he was. But I can’t remember. What happened? I can’t remember. How did you go? I don’t even remember your going.’
    â€˜I had appendicitis. Don’t you remember?’
    â€˜Did you? Did you have them out?’
    â€˜It. I had it out. Don’t you remember? I had to go home. They went swish! and it popped out.’
    â€˜I don’t remember. I can’t remember about your appendix.’ And later, when she is having a bath, I go in to make sure. Yes. There’s a scar.
    â€˜My god,’ I say.
    â€˜Well, you were pretty far away, that fall. What a weird time! And I’m coming out of the ether and the nurse says, “How far gone are you, dear?” Because I hadn’t had my period for four months.’
    â€˜Oh that’s right, what was his name?’
    â€˜Carlos Johnston,’ Francie says gloomily.
    â€˜Didn’t I call the police because you were out late?’
    â€˜Yeah. Boy, was I furious. Don’t you remember, Mom came out and took one look at him. Big black booger, and she whisked me home?’
    â€˜And he raped you,’ I say, feeling the old fear;