A Vision of Fire

Jack London shook his head, sensing the crisis had passed, then yawned and trotted from the room.

Caitlin relaxed as well. She stood, pulled a light cover over Maanik’s resting form, and backed toward the corner of the room where Mrs. Pawar had found safety. She could see that amid the mother’s concern for her daughter, this protective and dignified woman was also scared of Caitlin.

“Hypnosis is a very common tool for psychiatrists, please don’t worry.”

“But how did you… she was unreachable!”

“Only to normal forms of communication. Maanik was actually very responsive to hypnosis, almost as if she has experienced it before. Has she ever been hypnotized?”

“No, never.”

Caitlin was used to skepticism, but under Mrs. Pawar’s gaze she felt like a wizard.

“This is just a temporary fix,” Caitlin said. “At this point I would strongly suggest that you admit Maanik to a psychiatric hospital—”

“Absolutely not,” Mrs. Pawar interrupted.

“But she’s already a danger to herself, and at any minute—”

Mrs. Pawar was shaking her head. “It would be noticed and it would be publicized, doctor. It is not possible at this time.”

She folded her arms and rested the back of a hand against her lips, and Caitlin saw how hard she was working to keep it together in the face of the day’s events. Pushing the matter would worsen the situation for the mother and do nothing for the daughter.

“All right,” Caitlin said, pulling her prescription pad and a pen from her purse. “I’m going to give you a different prescription—clonazepam. It’s a sedative and a muscle relaxant, less radical than the others, and Maanik can be named the recipient without raising suspicions, in case anyone finds out. Give her the pill on a full stomach and when it takes effect, clean her forearms with the oil, all right?”

Mrs. Pawar nodded.

Caitlin indicated that they should leave the room. Mrs. Pawar followed her into the hall. As Caitlin left the door ajar she asked, “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Pawar, I must ask: has Maanik ever suffered any kind of trauma? An attack, abuse at any age? Sexual abuse? Physical or emotional?”

Caitlin watched the woman grow weary under these most difficult of questions. She shook her head no. Caitlin pushed a little further.

“I know that you lived in New Delhi not long ago, and I know that New Delhi is experiencing an epidemic of sexual assault. Is there any chance at all that Maanik could have been assaulted and not told you?”

Mrs. Pawar did not look Caitlin in the eye but Caitlin knew that was cultural, not deceptive. “There is no chance,” Mrs. Pawar said. “We raised a miracle. We raised a safe child. She was unscarred until she saw the attack on my husband.”

Caitlin reached out and held Mrs. Pawar’s hands for a moment. “I believe you,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin replied. “I know this isn’t easy but it’s necessary. We will find the cause of this. We will make her world safe again.”

“How long will that take? Do you have any idea?”

“I don’t,” Caitlin admitted.

“What if—if it happens again?”

“It may very well. I’ll leave you my number. If there is another episode, even a very mild one, call me. I’ll come right over.”

The relief in Mrs. Pawar’s eyes was profound.

The housekeeper stepped forward—a small woman with the first touches of gray in her hair—and showed Caitlin to the door. But Caitlin turned suddenly. She felt goose bumps along her arms, as though cold air was blowing up her sleeves.

“Doctor?” Mrs. Pawar asked. “What is it?”

Caitlin looked down at her arms. Her sleeves weren’t moving. There was no vent on the floor or the wall.

“Sorry,” Caitlin said. “I thought I left something back there.”

Smiling and wishing the women a good day, Caitlin walked into the hallway. The odd feeling passed as the elevator descended and the course of her day resumed and the lives of the patients she had to see crowded Caitlin’s mind.

• • •

The rest of the day passed swiftly and without incident. Caitlin attributed her earlier restlessness to Ben’s anxiety, the Pawars’ fear, and the uneasy zeitgeist of a city that seemed to be waiting for bad news. Something about the Kashmir crisis was gripping people who usually forgot about major news events within a day or two. She overheard several conversations about the assassination attempt and whether nuclear war was likely. It was the top trending topic on Twitter, and her colleagues were sharing news articles over e-mail. An Associated Press update mentioned the ambassador’s return to the negotiations and his cold reception. The talks had not recovered from the damage of Ganak’s sudden departure—his “unexplained abandonment,” one Indian delegate had called it.

Ben was right, she thought. They’re just looking for reasons to be petulant. Little girls and boys with very dangerous toys.