PS_Winter_2012_PS Summer 11/25/12 6:55 PM Page 16
n a n c y
m e n d e z - b o o t h
SECURITY BREACH don’t know where Teaneck is, but John drives me here twice a week. Doctor Berger’s house is on the residential side of a park, opposite the stretch of strip malls with glatt kosher delis. It’s cold today, even for March in New Jersey. Doctor Berger places the space heater close to the couch and pointed toward me in her basement office. I can talk to Dr. Berger. The crisis counselor at the hospital made me nervous. Her name was Claudia, and she was on call that Friday morning. She was sent to my room, the one closest to the secured doors of the maternity ward. She looked fresh out of school and scared to sit by my bed. She tapped her pad with her pen instead of taking notes.
i
New babies cried further down the hall, but Claudia never shut the door to my room. Claudia didn’t know what to say. She hesitated even when asking easy things like my name. She never said the words stillbirth or baby, but we both knew that’s why we were there. I had arrived at the hospital in labor, and waddled into the emergency room like I was about to claim a lottery prize. Instead, I got Claudia in my room. My baby Liam died before I delivered him. “The way she looked at me, like I was a monster,” I tell Dr. Berger again. “She didn’t want to be in the room with the woman whose baby was in the morgue.” “Did she ever say anything to indicate that?”
16
Moment by Dana Scott © 2012
“She didn’t have to. I saw it. I didn’t want to be there either.” I couldn’t tell Claudia about the Rubik's Cube. Today is my fourth session with Dr. Berger, but I told her about it at our first meeting. I watched her record my words. Doctor Berger is a professional and can do something with my words. She doesn’t take notes as I tell her again today. “My cousin gave me a Rubik's Cube when I was twelve years old because it was a good gift for smart kids.” I look at Dr. Berger. She nods at me to continue. “I was smart but couldn’t solve the cube. I’d get the red, white and green sides, but the blue, orange and red would be mixed up, and I couldn’t solve those without messing up the sides that were already solid. There was this book called “Conquer the Cube in 45 Seconds”, and the guy who wrote it held the record for solving it in 20 seconds. He said anyone could learn to solve the cube in under five minutes. I believed it. I followed the diagrams, step-by-step, but I couldn’t get it. I spent that whole year turning a cube and feeling stupid.” “Your expectations of yourself at that age seem unforgiving.” Doctor Berger has pointed this out in past sessions. I look at the framed diploma on the wall behind her, still askew. It’s embarrassing to retell how I took the cube apart and reassembled it so it was solid on all sides. It remained solved and untouched on a bookshelf until I tossed it out during a summer visit home from college. “Did you feel satisfied when you looked at the solved cube?” “Yes, but that’s not how I feel today.” “Go on.” “I feel the same as when I was in the hospital. There’s something wrong with my mind. It’s scrambled, the core is off
