The Wave by Kristen Crusoe (smallest ebook reader txt) 📕

Chapter 7

Clair

The mental competency hearing was held in the community room, the only room on the unit large enough to contain all of the people and equipment needed to determine if Clair Mercer was mentally ill, and if she would be able to participate in her own defense. A charge of attempted murder had been brought by the Harbor County district attorney, a bitter man who resented having to come up to the hospital to hold the hearing.

In addition to the DA, there was the judge, his polar opposite, a woman who had a daughter with mental illness and showed generous mercy and compassion, within the legal limits, to persons with psychiatric disorders. Clair’s attorney, fresh out of law school and seemingly terrified of the ‘mentals’ as he called them, had spoken to her briefly. He thought it would be in her best interests to be found not guilty by reason of insanity.

Odors filled the small space, redolent of human body odor, bleaching products, food smells, anxiety and fear. A court reporter, the mental health investigator, numerous witnesses, and staff on the unit sat in plastic folding chairs, looking stiff and uncomfortable. Clair had been allowed to put on street clothes gathered for her from the patient clothes bin. She had showered, washed and combed her hair. She had even applied a little make-up, thanks to Jamie, one of the nursing assistants who kept a stash for her favorite patients.

The proceedings were identical to any courtroom, with the swearing-in of witnesses, wrangling over esoteric legal nuances, chair legs scraping across a linoleum floor as witnesses came and went. Throughout it all, Clair stared out the window, disengaged, and disinterested in the outcome. She realized sitting there that she no longer wanted Adam dead. She had lost her desire for revenge, and now wanted only her own peace. It mattered not where she was physically. Her peace would come to her once she could die and be with Devon. She knew she would find a way. Jail might be easier than a locked psych unit, she considered. Less intense monitoring. Maybe someone would kill her, if she pissed them off enough.

As these thoughts rumbled through her mind, other images began seeping through. She would glance over at Adam. He had been discharged a few days earlier, and was back to his well-groomed, well-dressed self. And seemed to be enjoying his new role as sorrowful but merciful victim.

A few of their friends from the college were there. More his than hers, Clair considered, watching Claudia be sworn in. Clair had always felt like Claudia wanted Adam for herself. So many women did.

‘And what was their marriage like, as you remember it?’ the district attorney asked Claudia.

‘Well, after the initial celebrations, walking across campus holding hands, sitting together at faculty meetings, eating together in the faculty lounge, all under our noses, as though trying to convince themselves they were happy, I did notice that Adam looked unhappy. I felt like he missed his old life.’

‘Why did you feel like that? Can you give a specific example?’ he prompted.

‘It was after one of his play rehearsals, that had gone especially well. The two young students had fallen in love in front of our eyes during the rehearsal, and we were all in love with each other. It was a high moment, a high feeling. We wanted to go out and celebrate. At first Adam was right there with us, gathering up his satchel, his leather jacket, moving about with speed and grace, like the old Adam. Then his phone rang. You could see him deflate. It was Clair, we could hear him talking to her. Telling her that yes, he was wrapping up and would be home soon. But he didn’t go home. He came with us. And I do think that is when things changed.’

That night was fresh in Clair’s memory as well. Yes, that was the beginning of the change, for her. She had waited for Adam. When he had finally made it home, he had smelt of beer, smoke, and testosterone. She had been eight months pregnant, big and clumsy. Her feet had felt like boulders, and her face was puffy from lack of sleep and an overload of fluid coursing through her veins. She had been told she was at risk from pre-eclampsia and had to be on strict bedrest. They had fought. She remembered throwing a glass figurine of a sea-lion at him. They hadn’t been sleeping together for the past month. He had said it was to help her rest but she knew he was repulsed by her size and overall slovenliness.

‘And what else do you remember? Was she ever violent?’ the DA asked.

‘Well, after that night we did see more of Adam. In fact, he seemed to live at the theatre, often sleeping in his office. I never saw her be violent but then, I didn’t see her very much at all. She took a leave of absence during the final weeks of her pregnancy and stayed home after that, to be with the boy, since he was ill. I knew she had been teaching online, and Adam said she was beginning to talk about returning to her classes on campus, right before her son died.’

Clair stood, her chair clattering as it was pushed forcefully behind her.

‘You don’t know that! No one knows. He is not dead, Claudia. You have no right to say that. We don’t know where he is, but we don’t know he is dead,’ Clair cried.

The security guards rushed over to restrain her, fearful she might lunge at the witness. Clair held her arms up in a submissive gesture, finding her chair and sitting back down. The judge scolded her, admonishing her to remain quiet, seated, or she would be escorted back to her room.

‘Are you all right, Dr Parker?’ the DA asked Claudia. ‘Do you need a break?’

‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, glancing at Clair. ‘I’m sorry, Clair,’ she