Chapter 5: Patti and the Exorcist

Sunday afternoon, Father Roberto paid me a visit after mass. There wasn't much to watch on Sunday daytime television, and I was thoroughly immersed in a novel that Linda had snuck in to me the night before. Xaviera Hollander's "The Happy Hooker."

To say it was interesting was an understatement. I was so engrossed by her autobiography that I didn't hear Father Roberto come in. I suppose I should have blushed or tried to hide the book, but my mind was much more mature than my body, and my sense of morality hadn't felt threatened by books.

Father Roberto on the other hand was livid. Didn't I know the church had banned this book? Didn't I know that the writer would spend eternity in Hell? Did I realize the penance I would have to do because I had read part of it?

Sigh!

I really didn't have room in my new life for this kind of grief. I wanted my future to be full of hope and promise. I certainly didn't want this kind of guilt trip hanging over me or following me for the next few years. At least I knew enough about Catholics to know what direction to take.

I asked Father Roberto if I could make a confession right now, and the look of pleasure on his face was enough to make me want to puke. Self righteous prick was the only term that came to mind.

He took out one of those fancy neckpieces out of his pocket and kissed it before slipping it over his head and sitting on the chair beside my bed.

I'm not sure what titillating words he thought were going to come out of my mouth, but the minute he declared this was a sacred act, I knew that he could never repeat what I was about to lay on him.

"Okay," I said. "This is the deal. I admit I was reading that book, so that prevents you from telling Mom or Dad."

He started to sputter.

"I'm not finished," I said. "I've got a history lesson for you. In about ten years the truth about all those orphanages your church ran in the west, where you took native children away from their families for 'their own good' is going to hit the fan. It will rock the Catholic Church harder than Martin Luther splitting in 1520. But it will be nothing compared to the scandal the church will face in the following decade when literally thousands of boys and hundreds of girls will seek justice for having suffered for decades at the hands of priests who harbored homosexual and pedophilic tendencies. Then just as the 'End of Days' seems to be bringing the church to its knees, the Vatican will declare that there really is no Hell."

"That's impossible," he declared.

I held up my hand. "There is no end of the world by the new millennium and no return of Jesus, but the Anglicans beat you to this profound revelation by a good year." Then I leaned closer to him and whispered, "Do you want to know the name of the Pope who will make this declaration?"

He scrambled to his feet, backing away from me and though he was furious, I could tell that the church already knew in 1974 it had these problems. I could see it in his eyes.

"There's no way you could know this," he hissed.

I just looked at him calmly and said, "You know Father, I had my doubts before last week, but now I know there really is a God, and She's got a sense of humor. I also believe in miracles. I know I'm going to do penance for a lot of things, Father, but nothing that you will give me. I have a higher authority to answer to now, and if you break the sanctity of this confession, mention anything I have said to you to anyone, and I will deny it, and then tell everyone that the confessional is no longer sacred."

He blessed himself, suggested something that sounded a lot like blasphemies and beat a hasty retreat out of my room. Well, at least that was one problem solved. If my ending up in Patricia's body had been an act of divinity, I sure didn't need organized religion messing up my plans.

Monday morning Mike and Ann came in to see me. Ann looked worried.

"What's the matter, Mom?"

It was Mike who answered, looking upset as well. "Dr. Mallard wants to meet with us this morning to decide if your memory loss is a sign of something more serious."

"Don't look so worried, you guys," I said trying to reassure them. "I'm fine, I'm healthy, and I'm sure there aren't any missing screws though a few might need a bit of tightening up." At least that got a laugh out of Mike.

As we sat there, a nurse came in with a message for me. She handed me a note. I opened it up, fear knotting in the pit of my stomach. Cathy wouldn't send a note through the nurse's station, so it could only be from Einstein.

I unfolded the paper and read:

"ST:TNG, not quite a bona fide hit yet, but shows great potential."

It was signed "Einstein."

I nearly laughed out loud. Obviously Einstein was making out okay and had found the perfect way to get a cryptic message to me that nobody would be able to decipher!

Ann asked for the note and then asked who Einstein was.

"A friend I made here. A really wonderful girl," I said. "I just know that the two of you would love her."

I couldn't say to them that Einstein was really a boy given that I wasn't allowed to date, and I didn't want them to worry, but it wasn't a complete lie... they would love Einstein, if they knew who he really was. Instead they had me, and I was going to make sure that I did right by them for Patricia.

And so it was that an hour later, all three of us were in the doctor's office.

Dr. Mallard was concerned about my amnesia. He was seriously thinking of bringing in a brain specialist and considering placing me in the psych ward.

I had a lot of talking to do.

Okay, so I embellished a lot of details, but I only had sketchy information to work from. I told the doctor about my first period, where it had happened, and how I had freaked over it. I even told him about my first kiss, and how I couldn't understand the big deal. Playing with the material that Einstein and Cathy had given me I was able to spin a pretty good yarn, and though I was watching the doctor's eyes, I could see Mike and Ann nodding at every piece of information I presented that they could verify. I went through the family structure, my birth date, the teasing at school... all trivial stuff but something that only I could know. I was starting to feel like a bit of a con artist, and could see how with a bit of information you could fool a whole lot of people. It was not a comfortable feeling.

The doctor still seemed to be wavering, but I had to get myself released from the hospital and without worrying Mike and Ann about my health.

"Dr. Mallard, I know who I am, and I realize there are still some blanks, but like you said to me last week, it will all come back with time. I don't think much more is going to come back until I'm home with my Mom and Dad and sleeping in my own bed."

He seemed to agree with that at least.

"What I guess I'm saying is, I realize you're worried about me and I appreciate that, but the longer I stay here the more of the school year I'm going to miss. I don't mind getting my head X-rayed if it will make you feel better, but couldn't you find out faster if my brain is functioning with an MMPI or a 'Cognistat' test?"

"Where did you learn those terms?" he asked with a shocked look.

I smiled at him. "I'm a fast learner, ask my Mom or Dad. I might have already known them, or I might have heard about them just being here. I'm sure the tests will show that my brain is functioning normally and you can always run a blood screen to see if there is anything toxic in my system."

Doctor Mallard smiled and agreed. "And you just turned 14?" he asked, laughing. And so it was set up that I would meet with an independent psychologist who would administer the tests without knowing anything about my recent amnesia.

I spent a pleasant afternoon with Mike and Ann. We had lunch in the hospital cafeteria after getting consent from the ward nurse, and if not for the institutional surroundings, I think we looked like a normal family out for a bite to eat. Wearing my own clothes, well, at least the ones that were mine now, made life more normal, but at the same time, so different. It was strange having people respond to me as a female instead of a generic patient, and I had to remember to handle my utensils like a lady.

During lunch, I tried to keep our conversation away from the past and talk about the future. Mike and Ann seemed willing to accept that their daughter had some glaring memory gaps, and I suspected that they thought I would never regain all of "my" memories, In fact, they seemed less worried about it than the doctor.

They left after lunch, leaving me with some money to buy myself some books or magazines if I needed them. I thanked them again for the TV. They would never know how handy that TV had been helping me to get my bearings.

I spent the rest of the day reading, waiting for the night shift nurses to come on.

The ward was pretty quiet after nine, and having finished the "Happy Hooker" I was decidedly horny. Since I didn't have to worry about anyone walking in on me and seeing me stroking a hard cock, I felt pretty safe letting my fingers do the walking. But release was not to be mine.