Free The Uses of Enchantment by Heidi Julavits Page B

obfuscations,” her mother said as much to herself as to anyone. “Quite enough.”
    “So much of Mary’s story has been obfuscated,” Roz said. “Which is why we feel it’s important to get everything on the table. Or on the carpet, as it were.”
    Roz gestured toward the file folders.
    “ Story ,” Mum parroted sarcastically.
    “That is the only word to use, I’m afraid,” Roz said. “Your daughter’s experience has been, to a highly unprofessional degree, fictionalized by Dr. Hammer.”
    From her bag she pulled a copy of Miriam and tossed it, with evident dismissiveness, onto the floor beside the file folders. She didn’t need to explain that the book proposed the following: Mary, aka “Miriam,” had faked her abduction and had successfully lied to everyone—family, friends, police, therapist, all of whom had believed her, at least until Dr. Hammer discovered the truth: Mary, he claimed, had never been abducted. She’d disappeared, yes, but not because someone had taken her. She had hidden herself away. He had even founded a theory after her called hyper radiance. A very pretty way of saying: she’d lied.
    Flabbergasted, her mother searched for words. She stirred her coffee. She lifted the creamer and erased with her napkin the keloid, yellow-white ring that had accumulated beneath it.
    “While I certainly appreciate your expert opinion,” she replied finally, “every inhabitant of Greater Boston knows that Mary’s story is a story . I’m relieved to know that it still comes as a newsflash to at least two people. But really, Dr. Biedelman—”
    “Call me Roz. I’m not your doctor. I’m not Mary’s doctor either.”
    “—Dr. Biedelman. We’re a very tired family, in case you can’t tell. We are tired, and we are—we’re just tired.”
    Her mother lit a cigarette. She offered one to Dr. Flood, but not to Roz.
    “I understand how tired you must be,” Roz said, eyeing the excluding-cigarette exchange with a practiced brightness. Roz had clearly spent her life pretending not to be bothered by the fact that she was, in some globally recognized way, an irritating person.
    “I don’t see how your capacity to understand my exhaustion is of any relevance whatsoever,” Mum said through an exhalation.
    Roz rewarded the room with a powerful smile.
    “Mrs. Veal,” Roz said. “I understand—I do—I understand your resistance to traumatize what must feel like a healed wound. But Dr. Flood and myself have come to speak with you today because we think that Dr. Hammer has behaved… ignobly toward your daughter.”
    This caught her mother’s attention.
    “He took liberties,” Roz said. “With her story, and for all we know…Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions, shall we?”
    Her mother drew on her cigarette so forcefully that her lips disappeared inside her mouth. Mary found herself the receipient of an unabashedly nasty look. She took a deep breath, intending to defend herself—then remembered her mother’s request.
    “I imagine you’re dying to elaborate,” Mum said.
    Roz retrieved a file folder.
    “I have it documented here in my report to the board,” she said, flipping through the contents. “Dr. Hammer behaved in an unprofessional manner. To be specific: I saw Dr. Hammer and your daughter in his office wearing nothing but their underwear.”
    Her mother closed her eyes and pressed the palm of her hand, the one holding the cigarette, against her forehead. The lit end of the cigarette hovered dangerously near her hair.
    Dr. Flood positioned herself on the edge of the couch, hands shaking. Her words shot out of her mouth as an anxious, pent-up jabber.
    “Dr. Hammer claims this ‘incident’ occurred on the day of a big blizzard don’t forget about the blizzard Roz.”
    “So for an hour my daughter sat on a couch with a man while the two of them were wearing underwear,” Mum said. “And then he billed me.”
    “To be totally accurate he was wearing ski pants and Mary was