When Miss Dungan returned, I asked her if I could go outside now.
"I suppose so, sure," she said. "We'll leave your piece just as it is and you can return to it tomorrow, okay?"
I nodded and left the studio. Lawrence looked up and smiled warmly as I came down the pathway.
"Hi," he said. "How's your artwork coming along?" I shook my head.
"I wouldn't exactly call it a work of art," I signed. He seemed to understand and nodded. I liked the fact
that he didn't try to convince me otherwise and fill my head with false ideas about being talented.
"You want to take a walk? If we go down the path there, we can get a view of the ocean."
I turned and gazed in the direction he indicated.
"It's still pretty nice out," he continued. "My parents had to leave early. They had a social function to attend. They usually do."
I turned back to him, hearing his note of displeasure.
"They're not crazy about coming here in the first place. It's an embarrassment. I'm the only member of my family to end up in a loony bin. Oh, I didn't mean it that way," he said quickly. "I mean, I don't think of you as loony. I'm loony, Megan's a real loon, but you're not."
"Something's wrong with me," I signed. I pointed to my head and shook it.
"Whatever's wrong with you will be easily cured. You won't be here anywhere near as long as I've been, I'm sure. Want to walk?"
I was reluctant, but I finally agreed and we started down the path.
"My father's a stockbroker," he said. "Very successful one, too. He's got some high-profile clients, big portfolios. I don't know exactly how rich we are, but I know we're really rich. My mother usually buys whatever she wants. You should see her closet. It's as big as some people's bedrooms. She even has a vanity table in there.
I smiled.
"I'm not exaggerating," he said. "When I was a little boy, I hid out in that closet. She always yelled at me for it. She's got clothes hanging in there with the tags still on them. I don't think she even remembers half the things she buys.
"And you should see her jewelry. She's got enough to stock a small store. What about your mother? Have you tried remembering her? Did you live in a big house?"
I thought and shook my head.
"No? That's strange. I bet your mother is probably the first person you're going to remember. Well, there it is," he said, stopping. I looked up.
Through the tall maple trees, I could see the ocean, its blue sheen glimmering in the late afternoon sunlight.
I stepped back.
"What?" he said.
I shook my head.
"You're afraid of the ocean?" He thought a moment. "It has something to do with what happened to you then. I was reading about your problem. I looked it up in our library. That's what I was doing when you came in with Mrs. Broadhaven. The only way you're going to get well is for you to confront what happened," he said. "That's Doctor Southerby's job, to get you to do that."
He looked at the sea and then at me.
"You want to try to get closer? Maybe it will revive your memory and--"
I shook my head emphatically.
"Okay," he said. "We'll go back, huh?"
I nodded, but chanced another glimpse of the water. Images began to parade through my mind: faces, lobster traps, boats, the beach, a cranberry bog, someone singing, and then someone calling my name, whispering at first, and then calling me louder, louder. It seemed like . . . I was calling myself.