Happiness Palace

Happiness Palace

Blandine P. Martin

Copyright © 2018

www.blandinepmartin.fr

To everyone who dedicates their lives to others behind the scene and turns their existence into a model of altruism. To all those anonymous heroes who change the world around them by bringing comfort to troubled souls.

Mentions légales

Copyright © 2018 Blandine P. Martin

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Tous droits réservés.

Cover by par Blandine P. Martin

Dépôt légal : août 2018

N° ISBN : 9791097266233

Translated by Nathalie Cross

Dépôt légal : Août 2018

Le Code de la propriété intellectuelle interdit les copies ou reproductions destinées à une utilisation collective. Toute représentation ou reproduction intégrale ou partielle faite par quelque procédé que ce soit, sans le consentement de l'auteur ou de ses ayants droit ou ayant cause, est illicite et constitue une contrefaçon, aux termes des articles L.335-2 et suivants du Code de la propriété intellectuelle.

« You may say, I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one »

John Lennon, Imagine

Hell’s Bells

My head. This nagging pain. And this repetitive, intense and insane ring. Everything seemed blurry around me once I finally managed to open my eyes following a crazy amount of effort. My eyelids felt heavy. And puffy. And the never-ending beep continued its attempt at destroying my eardrums, but I could now perceive it more clearly. I was facing a white-tiled wall. Suddenly I panicked because something was blocking my breathing. My breath was hitting a stuffy, moist and warm barrier: a mask. I was breathing through a mask! I tried to remove it with one hand because the object was starting to suffocate me, but someone stopped me. I looked up to see who was torturing me and from his outfit, he seemed like a doctor. A hospital. How did I end up here? How...?

My mind froze, and I felt a lump in my throat. I knew how. I refused to believe it, and yet my aching body was lying on this hospital bed. I saw various nurses bustling around me. And this beep, although it had slowed down, was still continuing its dramatic and nagging melody. 

Don’t try to take it off. Breathe slowly and everything will be ok.

I was pushing away the nurse’s hand. Her tanned complexion and her dark eyes contrasted with the striking whiteness of everything else. I was trying to remain conscious, but I could feel deep inside that it was pointless. 

We’re losing her again doctor!

Those were the last words I heard. A second later, my vision became blurred, my heart slowed down and I shifted back to the comfort of oblivion.

*

A few hours later.

Mrs. Cooper, I know you can hear me. We are going to need your help. I know it’s not easy. But it’s the only way to put an end to all of this.

With difficulty breathing, I curled up on the least painful side of my body with the only goal to turn my back to my visitor. This woman seemed to know my case very well, but it didn’t matter. It was too late for me no matter what she did, it wouldn’t change anything. No one could help me anymore – not even me. The social worker who was given my case tried one last time.

Mrs. Cooper, you have to file a complaint. It’s the only way to keep him from doing it again.

In between two silent sobs, I laughed, bitter and exhausted. Painfully, I wriggled to look at her right in the eye. My aching ribs kept me from breathing for a minute. I winced, but didn’t say anything. The worst pain wasn’t the one I was feeling through my body.

You want to help me, really? I asked her defiantly. Then suffocate me!

The fifty year old dressed in a suit stared at me, horrified. I maintained her gaze wishing to make her understand once and for all that there was no one left to save in this room. I could read fear behind her thick glasses, but also compassion and pity. I winced, disgusted by this world I didn’t want to be a part of anymore. With an almost motherly voice, the social worker looked at me with eyes full of sadness. A fat lot of good that was going to do me!

Mrs. Cooper, we have a center that would be willing to accommodate you. A spot is about to be available...

When? I interrupted her.

In two weeks.

I laughed. I had to hold my ribs because of how intense the pain was. I felt like crying, shouting and running towards the window to end on a high note with a swan dive that would sum up beautifully the story of my life. But I couldn’t move. Because of him. And anyway the nurses would intervene before I would even reach the window. I wanted to scratch my forehead but I realized that my hand was wrapped in a compress. I was stunned. Was there any part of my body that wasn’t covered in bruises, wounds or fractures? What was the use of repairing a toy that the child was going to keep breaking over and over again?

Two weeks, I whispered distantly.

That’s all I have for the time being. While you’re waiting, I can reserve that spot for you...

No need, I interrupted her. At this rate, there won’t be a Mrs. Cooper by then. Give that spot to someone whose life expectancy is more promising than mine."

My comment put a definite end to the conversation. This poor woman was only doing her job, she was trying to help me, but the system wasn’t helping her do things right. The system didn’t help anyone – particularly those who needed it the most. That’s how it had always been, and nothing would bring about any major change. It was the story of my life when I thought about it. I had always functioned outside the boundaries, I was too original to live within any box, too different to be let in, and while we’re at it, I was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. Every encounter made within the last ten years has been nothing but a link with the chain of events that has led me inexorably towards this dark and inevitable end. The ironic and cruel butterfly effect, the mocking laugh of a fate that didn’t want me – that’s what the word ‘system’ meant to me.

I’m sorry Mrs. Cooper, she whispered with humility. I’m leaving you my business card on your bedside table, my number is on it. It’s a toll-free number. Do not hesitate to contact me if you change your mind.

I nodded politely, but my mind had already drifted far away. I didn’t even watch her leave the room as she left alone with the nurse who was checking my vitals and reporting them on a chart. I sighed wearily, tired of this endless circus.

You still don’t want us to contact anyone? she asked in a soothing voice. 

I declined silently. Who could I possibly warn? Cliff had made sure to isolate me during the last eight years we spent together from the few family members I had left. I had cut ties with my father as my love for Cliff had turned my too young and naive self into a fool. I hadn’t even invited him to my wedding. We had wed secretly, carried away by a passion that I have a hard time remembering now. Since he had learned the news, six years ago, he had refused to have any communication with me. My mother had left us when I was just a child, taken away by a damn cancer diagnosed way too late. My young brother, Xander, had joined the US army after his twentieth birthday. He now spent the majority of his time away on missions. And I preferred to keep him away from my problems, my life, and from Cliff. It was my way of protecting him from all of this. The one thing I could still control in my life: keep my role as big sister by forbidding him from being part of my life.   

The nurse also left the room after showing me which button I needed to press in case I needed anything.

I was finally alone. By myself facing the dramatic reality being played out in front of me. He was killing me little by little, and I had no way out of this situation. The person I had loved in the past with all my heart was now my most lethal poison. Not satisfied enough with controlling my life, he was also deciding on how I was going to die. Luckily, I hadn’t seen him yet since my arrival here. Anyway, I didn’t remember how I got here. Often, I had wondered how we had reached this point. I had no answer to that. One event led to another and I guessed that a series of choices and consents were the cause of this dizzying fall. Married very young, carried away by the desire to live together, we rushed through everything. Cliff had just taken over the family construction business, and I loved him too much like any young girl who falls in love for the first time. I imagined myself travelling with him across the world, facing adult life, bearing his children and growing old together. And at that time, I believe he also shared that hope. This all seemed so distant now. Life had changed us, turning my husband into a mere shadow of his former self, and turning me into his shadow. Too weak to resist the temptation, Cliff sank into alcoholism quickly. I tried everything to help him beat his addiction. But his lack of willpower made it pointless. And the unthinkable happened. One wrong word and he slapped me for the first time, violently and deliberately. I forgave him. Once, twice. Then it became a more regular occurrence. I would always forgive – I still loved him despite everything, addicted to this toxic relationship that I couldn’t manage to let go of. The dreamer deep inside of me still hoped that one day things would go back to normal, that everything would go back to ‘the way things were’. But it was all nonsense. The whole idea of going back to the ‘way things were’ was not logical. No one ever backpedals once the vice becomes even more important than feelings. Every morning after, he would apologize, and would promise that he would change. And that worked for a while as it would allow me a glimpse into a possible solution for a better future. But when his addiction caused him to lose the family business, my destiny changed dramatically at the same time as his. It was a decline which was slow enough to give me time to fully take in the consequences, but quick enough that I couldn’t hold on to anything in time to keep me from falling further.   

Someone walked into my room, and startled me. A doctor came close to me. I recognized the tanned face of the person who had saved me. With a warm smile on cheeks marked by time, she introduced herself:

Mrs. Cooper, I am Doctor Sanchez.

Hello. I replied. And thank you...

She grabbed the chart which had been updated just a few minutes earlier by the nurse, and read it attentively. She closed it suddenly, and put it away under her sleeve while observing me for a long time.

Ok, so let’s start from the beginning. Do you remember arriving here this morning?

I shook my head.

Ok, so I’ll explain it to you. The emergency personnel received a call from the fire department. A young woman had fallen down the stairs in her house. She was unconscious.

My jaw tightened.

The man who called, your husband, said it was an accident.

I didn’t say anything. What else could I add? Give a name to what was actually happening? I would then have to testify at the police station, and I didn’t feel up to it. I might as well throw myself into the lions’ den. Wherever I went, Cliff would find me. And soon or later, he would make me pay for having talked.

Mrs. Cooper, we both know that this wasn’t just a simple fall. We only need to look at your medical file...no one is clumsy enough to have that many ‘accidents’

Where is my husband? I interrupted her.

He didn’t wish to ride in the ambulance. I think he wanted to protect himself ... given the circumstances.

I didn’t say anything. The doctor continued.

You were lucky, if I may say so. Some fractured ribs, a broken wrist, and the rest are all bruises and some superficial wounds. It could have been a lot worse.

She turned her black eyes towards me waiting for some kind of reaction on my part – a word that would mean I wanted some help. But I didn’t do anything. For a few seconds, I could read on her face that she was disappointed.

Mrs. Cooper, I know that you refused the social worker’s help...I might have a solution that would be more appropriate for you considering the urgency of your situation.

Disillusioned, I looked away.

A solution? I asked, bitter.

The doctor nodded.

Are you ready to hear it?

Go ahead and tell me anyway. You know what will happen if I go home. Best case scenario, the inevitable will simply be postponed. But sooner or later, you won’t need to help me anymore...

My comment hit the mark once again. I didn’t regret saying it. I didn’t have the strength anymore to pretend that everything was fine. I was stuck.

Good. I’ll contact the person in charge of the place. I believe that they have one spot left.

Is it a shelter?

A family setting.

I didn’t understand what she meant, but what did I have to lose? Time spent with her meant more time away from Cliff. The hospital was becoming a refuge and the only place where I was sure to be safe while being submitted to various tests. I breathed slowly and calmly. The doctor smiled at me politely, and left the room while tapping on her pager.

2. A Way Out

When the door of the little bedroom reopened, a young man walked in briskly. He had brown crew-cut hair, a delicate face, a slightly turned-up nose, and he was wearing green scrubs that indicated he was a nurse. He had a wry smile, and didn’t seem to be feeling sorry for me at all. And yet, the bruises and the wounds, clearly noticeable over the natural whiteness of my skin, left no room for doubt. He had under his arm the file filled out by the doctor. He read it briefly.

Hello ... Amy. Amy Cooper.

So he knew how to read. Great. With his dark eyes, the nurse looked up at me, and sat on the chair by my bed.

Hi, I’m Zach Widmore.

The casual tone of his voice surprised me. Even though I appreciated not being considered with pity, the contrast between his relaxed attitude and the seriousness of the situation was destabilizing. Did he find all of this amusing?

As you can see, I’m just a humble nurse, but I’m not here to take care of you. Doctor Sanchez told me about your case.

My case. I repeated, offended by the lack of consideration in his words.

He nodded.

Yes, Amy, your case, your situation if the term seems to you more .... human. Anyway. I might have a solution that would allow you to be safe as soon as you get out of the hospital.

So you’re hiding a magic wand, Zach? I asked him, bitter and disillusioned.

He smiled wryly at my comment. He would need more than that to stop being in a good mood.

No, I have something better than that. In fact, I’m the owner of HP, he revealed mysteriously.

He paused, and I grew impatient.

And this is where I’m supposed to ask what is ‘HP’?

He nodded, proud of his approach which I found condescending.

If it’s an abbreviation for ‘psychiatric hospital’, forget about it, I don’t belong in that kind of place...

No, it has nothing to do with it, the famous Zach interrupted. HP means Happiness Palace.

Happiness Palace, I repeated in disbelief. It sounds like a Disney resort for Jehovah’s witnesses... I’m begging you, no laugh therapy...

He greeted my reply with humor. Once he reverted back into serious mode, he gave me more details concerning his miracle solution in which I didn’t believe.

To put it simply, I was lucky enough to inherit a huge house. And before I was a nurse here, my life wasn’t anything worth writing home about... no point in dwelling on the past. But in the end, I decided to help those that needed it the same way I had been helped.

A nurse with a big heart...

I don’t know if I have a big heart, but, you Amy, I find you quite bitter. I can’t blame you. There are seven of us who live in that huge house. We help each other, and we learn to rebuild our lives together. Everyone has their own past, their own pain they want to erase. The friendship and the support we bring each other allow us to come out of the wreckage of our lives.

That’s a nice dream...

Zach didn’t react to my umpteenth remark.

One of us has just left after succeeding in leading a normal life and far from Black River. This means we now have a room available. And considering how urgent your situation is, I’m taking the liberty of offering you that room.

Unsure, I remained quiet.

Community life...?

Yes. No one knows the address of the house apart from social and administrative services, Doctor Sanchez and I. You will therefore be completely safe and above all, you won’t be alone anymore.

Suddenly, I was seized by doubt. Could I still hope to get through this? Was this not likely to be yet another disappointment? I looked at him in detail, still hesitating. He seemed sincere, and he inspired trust – supposing I could still trust someone. He was recommended by the doctor who had saved me. Therefore, a token of rectitude.  

Why would you want to help me?

I didn’t understand. How did such a beautiful opportunity make its way through to me? I was used to life playing nasty tricks on me the last few years. I was worried that behind such an opportunity which seemed attractive at first was hiding something dangerous.

Because if I don’t do it, who will?

I was taken aback by his answer.

You cannot put an end to all the misery in the world.

No, but I can help you specifically. So, I’m offering you a helping hand. It’s up to you to decide whether to take it or not.

I swallowed hard. This offer seemed to have come out of nowhere like magic. Just when my life seemed to be hopelessly broken, this offer was like a miraculous light. Since fate had let me down too often, I didn’t dare believe in this opportunity.

He...he’ll follow me. One day or another, he’ll take his revenge...

Not if he doesn’t know where to look for you. By then, Amy, you will have regained enough trust in life to press charges.

That’s strange; you seem to know what you’re talking about.

Probably because one of our members went through the same type of situation. June.

He caught my attention even further with his last comment.

And this ‘June’, is she managing?

Better every day. Time takes care of things, and above all, what helps her the most is the support she receives from our small tight-knit group of friends.

I could read in his eyes an unswerving honesty. It was disconcerting. The journey of this ‘June’ was giving rise to hope that had long been buried.

I can’t go back home, but all my things are there...

We’ll take care of that later. Trust us.

I didn’t understand how he planned on proceeding, but his tone left no room for doubt. His certainties were slowly starting to persuade me.

I don’t have any money, any job, any...

He raised his hand to interrupt me.

As I told you, we’ve all been there. You first have to relearn how to live and regain confidence. Then, we’ll consider a job search, and you won’t be alone.

But who pays for all of this?

I cover part of it.

Since I was looking at him in disbelief, he thought it best to explain.

I was lucky enough to have recently received a big inheritance. Those who do work also contribute according to their means. We live as a group; the common interest takes precedence over the rest.

I gawked at him. Was he selling me a dream?

The Happiness Palace offers a temporary stay so that things can go back to normal, and everyone manages to sort out their problems and chase those old demons away. The day you are ready, you can fly away.

I remained stunned. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was tempted to give it a try. If I only had one chance to find a better alternative to the one waiting for me in Cliff’s hands, I was ready to grab it. His best argument? Not being alone. Feeling safe. The bruises and the wounds would disappear with time, my ribs would be healed. But the permanent marks left in my mind, in my heart, in my soul – those would require greater care and above all a lot more help. I hesitated, and then whispered:

If I accept, what’s next?

A pleased smile appeared on his square chin.

First of all, let’s call each other by our first names. We’re from the same generation, we might as well not make each other feel older by being too formal, he announced jokingly. Next, you need to sign a disclaimer in order to allow your release. The only condition is to give a detailed assessment of your injuries to Doctor Sanchez every twenty-four hours for three days, and then less frequently as time goes on. It’s simply a precautionary measure. Then, at the end of my shift, around 5pm, if everything goes smoothly, I’ll take you to the HP to introduce you to the group. You’ll be in your new home.

It all seemed surreal. Had an angel finally decided to ward off my bad luck?

Basically, you’re like Mother Theresa?

Zach burst out laughing and rejected the idea with his hand.

No, I’m nothing like a nun, and I certainly wouldn’t even pretend to hold a candle to her. I’m just trying to do my best. If I can help, I might as well, right?

So much generosity inevitably gave rise to some suspicion. In the current world, where self-interest took precedence over everything else, it was more and more difficult to believe that a human being would be nice towards others without some hidden motive. But, what other choice did I have other than to take my chance? It was either this and risk being conned or a certain death as a result of my husband’s beatings....

Ok, I ended up whispering.

Perfect! Zach declared, visibly happy with my decision. You have a few hours before we leave. Get some rest. Your body needs it. I’ll take care of the rest.

I watched him saunter away. His cheerful attitude made me smile, but my ribs quickly reminded me it wasn’t a good idea. Life was offering me a chance to start over, and I intended to grab it. In-extremis.

3. The New Girl

Doctor Sanchez watched me leave with a smile. I felt in her eyes like a baby bird flying away. A wounded baby bird. I was undoubtedly going to be grateful towards that woman for the rest of my life. The person called Zach was holding me by the arm, and slowly we reached the hospital elevator, and then the parking. He helped me settle in a black Jeep. For the duration of the trip, he let me enjoy the silence, probably understanding that I wasn’t quite ready to chitchat about the weather as if everything was fine. Wise decision. I watched the landscapes go by: the little town of Black River, on