Look Closely - Laura Caldwell [81]
Dr. Adler put the file folder down on his desk. “It’s just what it sounds like, hurting one’s self, usually by cutting or slicing the skin, sometimes burning, in order to relieve one’s feelings. It’s often associated with unexpressed and unresolved loss or anger.”
“But if she’d been doing this—this mutilation—for five years, wouldn’t someone have noticed?” Please, I thought, tell me someone noticed.
Dr. Adler shook his head no. “It’s quite easy to hide, really. In Caroline’s case, she used safety pins, sometimes broken glass, but she took extreme care to ensure that no one could see the wounds. She cut herself in places like her armpits, inner thighs, behind her knees, that kind of thing.”
Dr. Adler paused, as if giving me space to ask a question, but I was momentarily overwhelmed. Finally, I found my voice. “Why? Why did she do that?”
“As I said, this type of behavior is often associated with anger and loss. In Caroline’s case, it appeared to be related to a few things. One was the loss of your mother. Another was a deep anger toward your father. Instead of expressing these emotions outwardly, she would harm herself in order to achieve some kind of relief.”
“And did she talk about why she was so angry with our father?”
“Of course,” Dr. Adler said. “Caroline was here for a good number of years, you know. It was very hard for her to stop the mutilation, and so she was considered a threat to herself for a long time. She underwent intensive therapy of many forms—individual, group, art therapy, meds. During that time it came out that she felt abandoned by your father.”
A little rush of relief. “And is that it? She simply felt abandoned?”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“Well, our mother died very suddenly, at least as far as I know, and from what I can tell, there was an investigation into her death. My parents were separated at the time, and apparently my mother was involved with someone else. I guess I’m wondering if Caroline ever talked about that or about anything specific that our father had done?”
Dr. Adler seemed to think for a minute. “Caroline was very reluctant to talk about the circumstances surrounding your mother’s death. After your mother died, she was sent off to boarding school, leaving her to fend for herself. She was only fourteen, if I recall correctly, and there were apparently very few visits by anyone in your family. She essentially felt discarded and neglected, and that was layered on top of what already was a somewhat depressive personality in her case.”
It made sense, I thought. But was that all there was?
Dr. Adler continued, “Now, as for your father, I should mention that Caroline was often reticent in her revealing her feelings and her past. It’s one of the reasons she was here so long. However, it was obvious to me that there was something she was holding back about your father, something that had angered her deeply.”
“Did she ever tell you what it was?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Do you know, generally, what it concerned?”
“I believe it may have concerned your mother, but I can’t say for certain.”
We both sat in silence. My mind stewed with thoughts of Caroline, of what she may have seen my father do.
“You mentioned her feelings of loss about our mother,” I said. “Can you explain a little more about that, about how she felt?”
His forehead creased, his thumb stroked the side of his jaw absently. “Caroline was, of course, experiencing a great amount of grief about the loss of your mother.” He looked up at me. “You were very young at the time, I take it?”
“I was seven.”
He continued rubbing his jaw. “Caroline would tell us that your mother fell down a flight of stairs, but she refused to give details past that point, which made us wonder if she was telling the truth. We never did get an answer from her that the staff was satisfied with. All we could determine for sure was that she felt an utter destruction of her world, as well as some guilt.”
“Guilt?” I pushed myself forward in the too-soft chair. “Why would she feel guilt?”
“It’s not