more surprises, I heard Carole describing the bloodstains on my shirt and the terrace windows.
‘Was it your blood, Mr Boyd?’ asked the psychiatrist.
I chose not to explain; she wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Her mind was already made up, and I could almost hear the report that she would later dictate to her secretary:
The patient has self-harmed, or has tried to inflict serious wounds on another party. The patient’s judgement, clearly impaired, renders him incapable of understanding his need for treatment. This justifies involuntary committal.
‘If you don’t mind, we’re going to start the tests.’
Yes, I did mind. I didn’t want any testing, I didn’t want to be put to sleep, I didn’t want any more pills! I got up to end the conversation.
I walked over to the polished glass screen that stood in front of the sculpture representing the Wheel of Law, decorated with little flames and floral motifs. The Buddhist emblem was about three feet tall and had eight spokes, which were supposed to indicate the path that led away from suffering. Dharma’s wheel worked thus: follow the path toward ‘what must be’, and explore the path until you find ‘the right decision’.
I had a sudden epiphany and lifted the wheel, hurling it with all my strength at the bay window, which shattered into a million tiny glass diamonds.
*
I can still hear Carole’s scream.
I still see the satin curtains fluttering in the wind.
I still feel the gust of wind that rushed in through the gaping hole, scattering papers and overturning a vase.
I still hear the cry that seemed to come from the heavens.
I still feel how I just let myself fall into the void.
I still feel my body tumbling.
I still remember the tears of the little girl from MacArthur Park.
13
The escapees
People ask me when I’m going to make a film with real people. What’s real?
Tim Burton
‘You took your time!’ I heard a voice complain.
It was not an angel, much less St Peter.
It was Billie Donelly.
Clinic parking lot
Midday
I had fallen two storeys and now found myself tangled in a curtain on the roof of a beaten-up old Dodge, parked exactly under the window of Sophia Schnabel’s office.
I had one cracked rib, and my knees, neck and ankle were killing me. But I was alive.
‘I don’t want to hurry you,’ said Billie, ‘but I’m worried that if we don’t get out of here pretty damn quickly they’ll stick you in a straitjacket.’
I saw that she had once again helped herself to Aurore’s clothes and was wearing a white camisole with a pair of faded jeans and a belted jacket with silvery edging.
‘Come on, unless you want to spend all night on this roof!’ she said, jangling a bunch of keys on a Bugatti key-ring.
‘So you’re the one who nicked Milo’s keys!’ I exclaimed, climbing down from the Dodge.
‘You’re welcome!’
Incredibly, I seemed only to have sustained a few minor injuries, but when I put weight on my foot I couldn’t stop myself crying out in pain. I had a badly sprained ankle and found I couldn’t walk properly.
‘THERE HE IS!’ shouted Milo, who had suddenly appeared in the parking lot and was now sending three male nurses built like rugby players after me.
Billie got into the driver’s seat of the Bugatti and I threw myself in beside her.
She slammed down the accelerator and headed for the parking lot exit just as the barrier was coming down. Without a second’s hesitation she screeched to a halt on the gravel.
‘TOM! COME BACK!’ Carole begged as we hurtled past her.
The three giants tried to block our path, but Billie just accelerated, clearly enjoying herself.
‘You must admit you’re glad I’m here!’ she announced triumphantly as the car smashed through the barrier and we sped toward freedom.
14
Whoâs that girl?
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Dylan Thomas
âWhere are you taking me?â I asked, clutching my seat belt.
Turning onto Pico Boulevard, the
‘Was it your blood, Mr Boyd?’ asked the psychiatrist.
I chose not to explain; she wouldn’t have believed me anyway. Her mind was already made up, and I could almost hear the report that she would later dictate to her secretary:
The patient has self-harmed, or has tried to inflict serious wounds on another party. The patient’s judgement, clearly impaired, renders him incapable of understanding his need for treatment. This justifies involuntary committal.
‘If you don’t mind, we’re going to start the tests.’
Yes, I did mind. I didn’t want any testing, I didn’t want to be put to sleep, I didn’t want any more pills! I got up to end the conversation.
I walked over to the polished glass screen that stood in front of the sculpture representing the Wheel of Law, decorated with little flames and floral motifs. The Buddhist emblem was about three feet tall and had eight spokes, which were supposed to indicate the path that led away from suffering. Dharma’s wheel worked thus: follow the path toward ‘what must be’, and explore the path until you find ‘the right decision’.
I had a sudden epiphany and lifted the wheel, hurling it with all my strength at the bay window, which shattered into a million tiny glass diamonds.
*
I can still hear Carole’s scream.
I still see the satin curtains fluttering in the wind.
I still feel the gust of wind that rushed in through the gaping hole, scattering papers and overturning a vase.
I still hear the cry that seemed to come from the heavens.
I still feel how I just let myself fall into the void.
I still feel my body tumbling.
I still remember the tears of the little girl from MacArthur Park.
13
The escapees
People ask me when I’m going to make a film with real people. What’s real?
Tim Burton
‘You took your time!’ I heard a voice complain.
It was not an angel, much less St Peter.
It was Billie Donelly.
Clinic parking lot
Midday
I had fallen two storeys and now found myself tangled in a curtain on the roof of a beaten-up old Dodge, parked exactly under the window of Sophia Schnabel’s office.
I had one cracked rib, and my knees, neck and ankle were killing me. But I was alive.
‘I don’t want to hurry you,’ said Billie, ‘but I’m worried that if we don’t get out of here pretty damn quickly they’ll stick you in a straitjacket.’
I saw that she had once again helped herself to Aurore’s clothes and was wearing a white camisole with a pair of faded jeans and a belted jacket with silvery edging.
‘Come on, unless you want to spend all night on this roof!’ she said, jangling a bunch of keys on a Bugatti key-ring.
‘So you’re the one who nicked Milo’s keys!’ I exclaimed, climbing down from the Dodge.
‘You’re welcome!’
Incredibly, I seemed only to have sustained a few minor injuries, but when I put weight on my foot I couldn’t stop myself crying out in pain. I had a badly sprained ankle and found I couldn’t walk properly.
‘THERE HE IS!’ shouted Milo, who had suddenly appeared in the parking lot and was now sending three male nurses built like rugby players after me.
Billie got into the driver’s seat of the Bugatti and I threw myself in beside her.
She slammed down the accelerator and headed for the parking lot exit just as the barrier was coming down. Without a second’s hesitation she screeched to a halt on the gravel.
‘TOM! COME BACK!’ Carole begged as we hurtled past her.
The three giants tried to block our path, but Billie just accelerated, clearly enjoying herself.
‘You must admit you’re glad I’m here!’ she announced triumphantly as the car smashed through the barrier and we sped toward freedom.
14
Whoâs that girl?
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
Dylan Thomas
âWhere are you taking me?â I asked, clutching my seat belt.
Turning onto Pico Boulevard, the
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