Sellevision - Augusten Burroughs [79]
That was when she burst into tears and somebody handed her a box of tissues. She looked at the box and sobbed even harder. “I can’t use these tissues. I can only use the ones with lotion in them. Don’t any of you people understand how close the camera gets?”
Peggy Jean got up off the bed and went to the sink. She splashed her face with cold water and looked at herself in the mirror. “My name is Peggy Jean Smythe and I’m an alcoholic and a drug addict.” It rang true. She walked over to the nightstand and looked at the small pile of letters that people had sent her. She sat on the bed and then picked up the stack of letters. Debby Boone, Bebe Friedman, Adele Oswald Crawley, Trish Mission, and Leigh Bushmoore. I have friends. People love me. I am somebody. And isn’t it true, doesn’t everybody have tiny little hairs all over their body?
Peggy Jean could hear the sound of patients gathering in the hall on their way to the elevator for lunch. Maybe the cafeteria would have the green Jell-O again today. And this thought momentarily perked her up. Of course, she’d have to face all those awful people from group therapy. But she’d just eat and leave as quickly as possible.
“Hi, Peggy Jean,” said one of the awful people who attacked her earlier, the pretty one.
Peggy Jean said an icy, “Hello.”
The woman came right up beside Peggy Jean and entered the elevator with her. “You were great in group today. You really got in touch with some feelings. It’s hard at first but it gets easier.”
Peggy Jean looked at the woman, who was suddenly being friendly. “Hmph.”
“I sure hope they have patty melts today, I could really go for a patty melt,” she said.
Mmmm, Peggy Jean thought, so could she. The hospital food had really started to grow on her.
“My name’s Debby, by the way. I know it’s hard to learn all these new names.”
Peggy Jean gave her a little smile. “I have a friend named Debby,” she said.
“Really?”
Peggy Jean nodded. “Yes, the singer Debby Boone. Actually she’s been a tremendous help to me through my crisis.” Just then Peggy Jean noticed the witch woman staring at her from the other side of the elevator. I bet that’s exactly what Zoe looks like, she thought.
Peggy Jean and Debby sat together at a table.
“Oh well,” Debby said. “It may not be a patty melt, but I guess turkey loaf will have to do.”
Peggy Jean took a bite of turkey loaf and wondered what her family was having for lunch. Maybe Nikki had made them a nice chicken salad. Or maybe something festive, like stuffed tomatoes. “This is actually quite tasty,” she told Debby. “I wonder if I could get the recipe. My family would love it.”
Debby nodded with her mouth full.
“And I bet it would make great sandwiches the next day.”
Debby asked, “How many kids do you have?”
“Three. Three little boys, four if you count my hubby!” She pierced a lima bean with a prong of her fork. “And you? Do you have any kids?”
A pained look spread across Debby’s face. “I have two children, Hope and Charity.”
Peggy Jean smiled. “What lovely names. How old?”
“They’re thirteen, twins.”
Peggy Jean paused her fork in midair. “How wonderful. They must be very beautiful. I mean, you’re so pretty yourself.”
Debby lowered her head. “Thank you.” Then, looking Peggy Jean in the eyes, “Actually, my girls aren’t just twins, they’re conjoined twins.”
Peggy Jean leaned in. “Conwhat?”
Debby nodded her head, resting her fork on her tray. “Conjoined. They share major organs; they each have one leg, one arm. They share a chest and they have one vagina.”
Peggy Jean bit her knuckle.
“I started drinking right after they were born. It’s very stressful because they’ve never gotten along, and well, there’s nothing I can do about it because they basically have one body.”
Peggy Jean would not be able to finish her turkey loaf. “My Lord, you poor thing. No wonder.”
Debby began to cry softly, reached for a napkin. “If only they got along—but they don’t, they just scream and fight all day.”
Peggy Jean shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t know