Where'd You Go, Bernadette: A Novel by Maria Semple Page A

this was rhetorical. “I say, dare
not
to get a tattoo.” She turned around again, and gasped. “Oh my God. It’s not just
any
roll of tape. It’s literally Scotch tape, with the green-and-black plaid. This is too hilarious. If you’re going to tattoo tape on your arm, at least make it a generic old-fashioned tape dispenser! What do you think happened? Did the Staples catalogue get delivered to the tattoo parlor that day?” She stuck a chip into the guacamole and it broke under the weight. “God, I hate the chips here.” She dug into the guacamole with a fork and took a bite. “What were you saying?”
    “I’m curious about the medicine they wouldn’t fill for you at the pharmacy.”
    “I know!” she said. “A doctor wrote me a prescription, and it turned out to be Haldol.”
    “Is it your insomnia?” I asked. “Haven’t you been sleeping?”
    “Sleep?” she asked. “What’s that?”
    “What was the prescription for?”
    “Anxiety,” she said.
    “Are you seeing a psychiatrist?” I asked.
    “No!”
    “Do you want to see a psychiatrist?”
    “God, no!” she said. “I’m just anxious about the trip.”
    “What specifically are you so anxious about?”
    “The Drake Passage, people. You know how it is.”
    “Actually,” I said, “I don’t.”
    “There’s going to be a lot of people. I’m not good when exposed to people.”
    “I think we need to find someone you can talk to.”
    “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
    “A professional,” I said.
    “I tried that once. It was a complete waste.” She leaned in and whispered. “OK, there’s a guy in a suit standing at the window. This is the fourth time I’ve seen him in three days. And I will promise you one thing. If you look now, he won’t be there.”
    I turned around. A man in a suit disappeared down the sidewalk.
    “What did I say?” she said.
    “Are you telling me you’re being followed?”
    “It’s unclear.”
    Fishing vests, sleeping in public, antipsychotic medication, and now men following her?
    When Bee was two, she developed a strange attachment to a novelty book Bernadette and I had bought years ago from a street vendor in Rome.
ROME Past and Present
    A Guide
    To the Monumental Centre of Ancient Rome
    With Reconstructions of the Monuments
    It has photographs of present-day ruins, with overlays of how they looked in their heyday. Bee would sit in her hospital bed, hooked up to her monitors, and flip back and forth among the images. The book had a puffy red plastic cover that she’d chew on.
    I realized I was now looking at Bernadette Past and Present. There was a terrifying chasm between the woman I fell in love with and the ungovernable one sitting across from me.
    We returned home. While Bernadette slept, I opened her medicine cabinet. It was crammed with prescription bottles written by an array of doctors for Xanax, Klonopin, Ambien, Halcion, trazodone, and others. All the bottles were empty.
    Dr. Kurtz, I don’t pretend to understand what’s wrong with Bernadette. Is she depressed? Manic? Hooked on pills? Paranoid? I don’t know what constitutes a mental breakdown. Whatever you want to call it, I think it’s fair to say my wife is in need of serious attention.
    Hannah Dillard spoke so highly of you specifically, Dr. Kurtz, and all you did to help Frank though his rough patch. If I remember correctly, at the outset Frank was resistant to treatment, but he soon embraced your program. Hannah was so impressed that she’s now a member of your board.
    Bernadette, Bee, and I are scheduled to go to Antarctica in two weeks. Bernadette obviously does not want to go. I now think it might be a better idea if Bee and I go to Antarctica, just the two of us, while Bernadette checks into Madrona Hill. I can’t imagine Bernadette will be too keen on the idea, but it’s clear to me she needs some supervised R&R. I am anxious to hear your thoughts.
    Sincerely,
    Elgin Branch

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