Cultivate a black technology god

Chapter 202 Ariel's past (5)

When Ariel arrived in Kansas City, she didn't know what fate awaited her.

The old fears returned.

But Heidi Dorset had never been so calm and reasonable.

It's absurd that a mother and daughter should get along better than they've ever been in this time of existential crisis.

It is ironic that things happened against this unusually peaceful background.

It was an ordinary night.

Heidi Dorset, feeling no pain at the time, was sitting in the big red easy chair, by the little lamp, reading a Ladies' Home Magazine.

Ariel entered the living room with the dinner tray.

At this time, Heidi Dorset said inexplicably: "I didn't fight at all."

"Hit what?" Ariel asked her softly, thinking that she was regretting something in the past again.

"I didn't make that call at all," Heidi Dorsett said.

"What phone number, mother?"

"A call to Dr. Wilbur," Mother explained.

"You fought," Ariel insisted:
"Did you forget? I heard what you said, every word."

Heidi Dorset answered with composure,
"Oh, I kept pressing the phone button. I didn't make that call at all."

Ariel thought of everything, but she didn't think of this possibility.

It's unbelievable that her mother was so determined to sabotage her path to recovery.

It was inconceivable that her mother should have kept her in uncertainty and doubts about her doctor for nearly three years since October.

During such a brief period of treatment, a little revelation here and a little enlightenment there were enough to maintain the inner balance and bring her back to school.

The inexplicable incident in which Dr. Wilbur saw Ariel rushing for the window that day continued in Omaha, at the college, and in Kansas City.

It was her mother who nurtured her grotesque secrets and deliberately shaped her destiny by interrupting her treatment.

How horrible, how painful, how sad!
However, there were no charges, and no one criticized Heidi Dorset.

No one got mad at her.

Anger is the devil.

Heidi is eating dinner.

Ariel took the tray back to the kitchen.

Neither mother nor daughter mentioned the phone call to each other, nor did they mention Dr. Wilbur again.

However, this exposure completely changed Ariel's attitude towards the doctor.

The facts were obvious: the doctor didn't know Ariel was sick, so he took it for granted that she was avoiding treatment, and couldn't even say that she would never come again.

So the doctor left Omaha without calling her.

It should not be Arielle Dorset who should be disappointed, but Dr. Cornelia Wilbur.

Before knowing the truth, Ariel deliberately didn't think about Dr. Wilbur.

But now, the image of the doctor appeared prominently again, and Ariel felt the hope in her heart suddenly surge like a wave.

Going back to her is a sweet dream of reconnecting and being fully healed.

But the giant snake must not be allowed to interfere this time.

The realization of the dream must be postponed until Ariel can afford her own treatment.

Ariel learned from a directory of psychiatrists:

Dr. Wilbur is a psychoanalyst in New York.

Ariel decides to go to New York.

In July, Heidi Dorset died and was buried in a Kansas City cemetery.

For the next two months, Ariel was housekeeper for her father.

By September, she was back at the academy.

In June, she graduated from university with a bachelor's degree.

At this time, her father was living with Pastor Webb in Denver, Colorado.

It was also one of Ariel's teachers who had persuaded her father to come to the degree ceremony.

Ariel followed her father to Denver at one o'clock in the afternoon that day.

For the next few years, she lived with her father, taught at the school, and earned a living as an occupational therapist.

Weddra Dorset's building plans made him move frequently, and Ariel moved with him.

But by the summer, she had saved enough money to get a master's degree at Columbia University in New York and resume treatment with Dr. Wilbur.

Her father only knew that her daughter was going to study in New York, so he drove her to New York.

Ariel came to New York on Labor Day 1954.

But she put off going to Dr. Wilbur until October, fearing that the doctor would reject her on the one hand, and worrying that the doctor would accept her on the other.

It was reasonable to refuse, because Ariel seemed to interrupt the treatment so arrogantly.

But it's more likely that the doctor can't remember her.

This is even more sad.

Ariel already felt guilty for unfairly blaming Dr. Wilbur for leaving without saying goodbye.

Guilt is now mixed with the fear of being rejected.

Acceptance is another scary thing.

If she was accepted by the doctor, she would have to tell him about the desperation she felt at the end of the three years she lived in Detroit before coming to New York.

When she is teaching, everything seems to be fine, but sometimes people are in the classroom and don't remember it.

But at the moment when she left the classroom, which is terrible in retrospect, something strange and inexplicable happened.

These things are not new, they actually appeared when she was three and a half years old, and she was aware of it by herself when she was 14 years old.

But in Detroit, these things are not only happening more and more frequently, but they are also getting scarier.

The secret she dared not tell anyone had become a terrible burden.

She often had to piece together reasons to hide her secrets and pretend to be normal, which became even more of a burden.

She couldn't bear it any longer.

People she'd never met, would insist that they knew her.

She went to the picnic and vaguely felt that she had been here before.

An item of clothing that she didn't purchase and probably hangs in her closet.

She started an oil painting and found out that someone else had done it in a style very different from hers.

Sleep is a nightmare.

She wasn't sure what sleep was.

She tends to feel like she sleeps both day and night.

She also tends to feel that there is no dividing line between going to bed at night and waking up in the morning.

On many occasions she woke up without going to sleep, or woke up not in the morning after sleeping, but at some indeterminate hour.

If Dr. Wilbur accepted her, all these things would be revealed.

This time, she was determined to tell the doctor.

Otherwise, it's like having cancer yourself, but telling the doctor that you just have a cold.

Ariel, however, wasn't sure she could bring herself to tell the truth.

She knew that if the truth was not told, the treatment would be divorced from reality.

As a result, she wondered whether it was wise to resume treatment after all.

She hesitated for six weeks before acting decisively.

On the train, the past fades away.

What she suddenly faced was reality, the reality of her hasty migration from Philadelphia.

Since she was three and a half years old, every time something like this happened, it seemed like it had never happened before, it seemed like it was the first time.

Ever since she became aware of this situation at the age of 14, every time something like this happened, she told herself to start over and it would never happen again.

There had been many, many seizures in Detroit, but even then she pulled herself together and treated each one as if it were the last.

However, this time was more terrifying than any previous one.

She felt that this attack in Philadelphia was bound to make a comeback.

The train creaked and stopped at Penn Station in New York.

Ariel picked up the folder, left the train, and hurried into the taxi.

At last she felt free from her troublesome worries and annoyances about the Philadelphia affair.

The taxi was about to turn into Morningside Drive, approaching the brownstone housing estate.

In September, she rented a two-story apartment here with Teddy Reeves.

She felt at ease and safe, but first she had to control herself not to think about it, in order to be at peace.

As soon as the door of the apartment was opened, the tranquility disappeared.

Capri the cat, thin and wide-eyed, greeted her with a hoarse voice.

This sad and moving cat voice is an accusation.

Ariel didn't leave any water or food for it, so she threw it down.

Capri was her only companion, her only wealth.

Ariel would not intentionally treat any small animals badly, at least not her baby Capri.

But she has mistreated it.

She abandoned the kitten she loved, just as she herself had repeatedly been abandoned in the past by people who claimed to love her.

Ariel lay on the bed, restless and sleepless.

In the morning she was compelled to tell the doctor what had happened to her.

But taking this step will be much more difficult than she imagined.

She thought back to the first time she met Dr. Wilbur after she came to New York.

Due to eager anticipation and anxiety, Ariel woke up early before dawn on October 1954, 10.

This is a small dormitory named after Whittier.

The room was dimly lit.

She glanced around.

On the back of the chair near the desk was her navy gabardine blouse.

On the dressing table are her navy blue leather handbag, navy blue silk gloves and navy blue hat.

There is also a small navy blue veil on the cap.

Standing squarely under the chair are her navy blue pumps.

The shoes were stuffed with gray stockings.

The suit had been painstakingly put together last night.

When things in the room become clear in the gradually brighter light, the feeling of strangeness in a different place disappears.

She considered what to say to Dr. Wilbur.

This time I have to tell everything.

Ariel stretched her face towards the window and the dawn sky, and then carefully and slowly put on her clothes.

She noticed that her hands were trembling as she put on her tiny bra.To stabilize herself, she sat up on the bed.

She dresses carefully and puts on her hat with a mechanical precision.

She knew she was well dressed without looking in the mirror.

Navy blue is all the rage, and that little veil is the finishing touch.

Ariel walked to the window.

The trees in the courtyard of the Whittier dormitory have been blown away by the autumn wind.

She faced the sun, dazzled for a moment, and then walked away from the window.

06:30, still early.

The time agreed with the doctor is nine o'clock.

time.

Alas, she could never tell the time.

Let the stupid bird fly first.

She puts on gloves.

She walked down the dormitory steps and across Amsterdam Avenue towards Hartley's on the southeast corner.

The whole world seemed to be asleep.

In the pharmacy, except for a cashier and a clerk, there was no one to be seen.

Waiting for humans to wake up on their own, the teller is manicuring his nails with a sandboard.

Clerks in white jackets stack plates behind marble slabs.

Ariel sat down at the counter, ordered a Danish pastry and a large glass of milk, then took off her gloves and nervously rolled them up.

As she chewed slowly, she knew she was killing time intentionally.

The word killing made her cringe a little.

At 07:30, she left the pharmacy and waited for the bus on Amsterdam Avenue before deciding not to wait.

Buses always confused her.

This morning, she must clear her head.

She passed the Shemerhorn Library and the round St. Paul's Church, and she barely recognized the buildings.

She didn't recognize Columbia University until 116th Street.

Through the gates on 116th Street, she could see the Rockwell Library in the distance, its hybrid buildings, its Ionic columns, and the proud and proud Alma Mater on the front steps. A somewhat melancholy statue.

She noticed that the Rockwell library was very similar to the Pantheon in Rome, only slightly smaller.

St. John's Catholic Church on 113th Street intrigued her.

She stayed in front of the church for a good 10 minutes, studying its Gothic architecture, thinking that it seemed to be a work of continuous construction.

Hey, she couldn't keep going.

So she stopped and waited for a taxi, but she didn't get one until a quarter past eight.

The driver spoke with a Brooklyn accent and handed Ariel a copy of The New York Times.

She gratefully accepted it.

The taxis moved so slowly during rush hour traffic that it frayed her nerves.

She warned herself:
Whenever you are eager to reach your destination, you may end up arriving late, even if you leave early.

She read the newspaper and felt better.Today, October 10, there is no headline.

There was no mention of President Eisenhower or Congressman McCarthy on the first page.

The title is concise and restrained.

She read one by one, and found that there was another unprinted headline, which was everywhere:

Do you remember me?
The taxi stopped suddenly.

When Ariel paid, the driver said:

"Wish you luck today."

Lucky today?

She found it difficult to say.

Dr. Wilbur's home and clinic were in the beige building at the corner of Park Avenue and 76th Street. She walked thoughtfully through the door.

At 8:55, she was standing in the private foyer leading to Apartment 4D.

The door remains open, allowing patients to enter without ringing a bell.

Ariel came to a small, dimly lit waiting room.

Inside, there is a small wall table, a lamp with a brass base, and several photographs in light wood frames.

Should I sit down?Dr. Wilbur came in.

"Come in, Miss Dorset," she called.

They walked into a sunny consulting room.

Both remember the last time they saw each other in Omaha almost a decade ago.

Ariel felt that the doctor had changed.

Her hair is brighter than before.

She appears more feminine.

But her eyes, her smile and the way she nods haven't changed.

Meanwhile, Dr. Wilbur was thinking:
She was just as slender and frail as ever.

Didn't age at all.

I have never seen such a face anywhere:
It is shaped like a heart, with an upturned nose and a small mouth like a flower bud.

You can hardly see such a face on the streets of New York.

This is the face of an Englishman.

Despite the slight dents, it was the good-looking, unpretentious face of an Englishwoman.

The doctor didn't ask Ariel to sit down, but she meant it.

Where are you sitting?

The green couch (with a small triangular pillow at one end, apparently for resting the patient's aching head) was unattractive.

(End of this chapter)