Autodidact_33
Senior Member
The Lobotomist and Catherine the Great
by Matthew Bissonnette
1950's Chicago during summer.
Malcolm Pierce walked down the sidewalk in a slum of the city just as dawn loomed to the east and twilight filled the streets with surreal gloom of the early morning hours. He was a diminutive man in his early thirties who was off pale complexion and gaunt in appearance with short auburn hair. He was wearing his uniform and carried a lunch pale; it was the same uniform he had on every night working as a security guard who watched over a museum in one of the wealthier regions of the city. Though it was in this rundown, decrepit part of town he resided; decaying tenements and small homes amongst numerous shops and other businesses. If one where to see this man walking home during the twilight hours, they would have easily seen that he was a man who seemed saddened who now walked empty streets just before morning would fill the sidewalks with pedestrians and bring about streets bustling with traffic.
Then he stopped in front of the cement steps to his home. A two story brownstone residence in need of repair; it was more then he could have afforded but was an inheritance. It was here he had lived for almost a decade with the wife he loved dearly; a wife who he knew was slipping away from him.
He looked at the wedding band on his finger and lowly said to himself, please, be better then you where yesterday.
He walked up the steps and opened the door which slowly opened with the rusty whine made by the rusty metallic door hinges. He walked into the darkened downstairs hallway and slowly closed the door behind him. The vague hints of daylight cascaded through the window and revealed the many pictures of him and his wife on the walls. Sun filled pictures of he and a young brunette with short, curly hair and with a hourglass figure which was accentuated with the dress she had on in every picture; in every picture they where smiling and seemed joyous and vibrant. But there where not many days now that gave Malcolm cause to smile.
He then went to the stairs at the end of the hallway and started to walk slowly up them towards the bedroom door at the top; he hoped the woman he loved and would always love would be asleep. He was honestly frightened of opening that door every morning when he came home from work.
He stood at the door and seemed hesitant to twist the door knob, but then did so and asked, Anita, are you awake?
He stood at the threshold of the door when suddenly a glass was thrown and shattered when it hit the wall beside him. He was saddened to find the room had been rendered dismayed violently while he was gone. The mattress of the king sized bed overturned, pillows torn asunder and there contents of feathers strewn everywhere; the happy pictures of those gleeful memories of the past thrown about; the glass smashed. And hiding in the corner of the room was his wife; the kneeling delicate woman cowering and her deep blue eyes looking at him full of fear; wearing a white silk nightgown.
He dropped his lunch pale and asked, what did you do?
Anita said in a frantic voice, are you with my enemies, are you with them who want me to be removed from the throne?
Malcolm slowly walked towards her and said calmly, it's Malcolm, the man who you married and who loves you.
She backed up against the wall and started to shake her head. How can I trust you, when so many seek the destruction of Catherine, czarina of all of Russia?
He stopped when he was near her and knelt down so they where eye level. He calmly told her, your name is Anita, and you know you can trust me no matter what.
She then looked at him and weakly smiled then put a hand on his cheek, her fingers felt so warm against his skin. Yes, you are one of my loyal subjects. But I have many enemies, the man who knocked on the door last night wanted to kill me. Even those whom pose as my friends want me dead. But I can trust you since you are loyal.
Then she suddenly seemed to become very afraid and began to shed tears yet said nothing. Malcolm then embraced his wife and held her as she cried; shedding a single bitter tear himself.
Though he knew she would not understand his sentiment, he told her anyway.
For better or for worse and I meant it, and I'll love you no matter what happens. I promise, I'll never give up on you Anita.
He just held her in silence as she cried as he longed for the woman he was knew to return. They stayed in each others embrace until the sun fully rose.
One month later.
In the dinning room of Malcolm's and Anita's home, they sat at a round wooden table in the small room; he in his uniform and she in a black sweater and matching skirt. Beyond the west window the sun was about to set behind the skyline of the city. They both ate in silence, slowly eating the stew he had prepared. Though she looked down at her meal, he was looking at her. All he thought about was the many meals they had at this table and the long talks, the many times together before she began to change.
He then hesitantly asked, I know you have never been much for my cooking, but how is the meal Anita?
She looked up at him and smiled. It is very good Malcolm.
He then briefly grinned and replied, thank you for calling me Malcolm. It has been so long since you called me that. And for a moment he could see who she once was, and dared hope that she was getting better.
Anita then looked down to her meal and said, I would know the name of my only loyal subject, I know you not to be one of my enemies who seek my death.
He then sighed and looked down at his food and they ate in silence. This continued for awhile when he suddenly got up and said, I have to be at work soon, but I'll be back in the morning.
She then seemed worried and told him, I am scared when you are not here, I feel alone and afraid of the stealthy attack of an assassin.
He looked into her eyes and said in a comforting tone, you will always be safe in our home.
Please be quick.
He then turned and walked through the house and opened the front door as it made its rusty whine and he stood at the doorway; a man stood at the bottom of the steps to his home and was looking at him.
Are you Malcolm Pierce?
The man was dressed in an expensive suit with a somewhat portly appearance and with sparse hair; mustache, beard and wearing glasses. He seemed to be staring right at Malcolm.
What do you want pal, he asked.
I am a health practitioner, I wanted to meet you when your family doctor told me of your wife's case.
Malcolm frowned and replied, I stopped seeing him once he insisted she be put in an asylum. I prefer my wife be home with me instead of locked up and given electrocutions and other treatments.
Yes, the man said, he told me she began to suffer from an increasingly severe psychosis three years ago, around the same time she discovered she could not have children. She believes she is someone else.
She thinks she is Catherine the Great, and she is afraid of everyone; even me sometimes. But if you want me to put her in an asylum to you can get the hell out of here.
The man smiled. No, I want to give the woman you love back to you.
Malcolm expression went blank as the man continued.
I have developed a new medical procedure which is helpful in cases like your wife's, a simple operation on her brain and she will return to the person you once knew. I call it a lobotomy.
Malcolm seemed doubtful and said, the doctor said there is nothing that could be done.
This procedure is very new, and has been helpful in most cases. Here take this. The man reached into a pocket and pulled out a card and handed it up to Malcolm. I will be in town till the end of the week, call me before then if you want-
Malcolm interrupted him. If I want what?
If you want your wife back and not this stranger you come to know.
Then the man abruptly walked away as Malcolm watched. He looked at the card then fell to his knee's, though he was profoundly happy he shed a few tears.
One week later.
During the twilight hours the front door to Malcolm's home slowly opened and he, in his uniform, walked through it and closed the door behind him as the rusty door hinges creaked. He stood in the downstairs hallway, holding his lunch pail, and looked up the stairs across of him and at the bedroom door at the top of them.
A few days before some men from a hospital had taken Anita with them and brought her home a few hours later after she had been given the surgery. She had on sunglasses to hide the large black bruises around her eyes; a result of the surgery. Ever since then she had been in bed since he was told she would need to rest and recuperate from the surgery. She had been mostly asleep since then and he had decided to let her rest. But now he wanted to finally talk to the woman he loved.
He walked down the hallway and started up the stairs until he came to the bedroom door. He began to twist the doorknob and hoped that Anita would be awake. He was happy to find the bedroom just as he left it and Anita sitting up in bed still wearing the dark glasses; in her silk nightgown and looking at a glass of water on the nightstand. The glass he had left before he departed from work.
He put his lunch pail on the ground then walked to the side of the bed and looked down at her as he smiled. He asked, Anita, are you feeling OK?
She mumbled, I want water, but my hands, I'm having trouble moving them.
He picked up the glasses and held it before her. She slowly lifted her hand and clutched the glass, but when he let go the glass fell out of her hand and almost fell on the bed but he quickly caught it. She tried to grasp it again but it fell from her grip since she seemed unable to close her hand around it and the glass fell on the bed and whetted the sheets.
He looked at her and asked, are you feeling any better?
She told him, I tried to get out of bed while you where gone, but my legs; they don't seem to work. I was on the floor all night before I could finally crawl back into the bed.
Malcolm frowned and felt deeply worried. He took a few steps back from the bed and asked, would you mind walking to me Anita?
She nodded and he watched as she slowly got up from the bed; but once she was on her legs she started teetering back and fourth until she almost fell but he quickly caught her. He knelt on the floor with her, she in his arm's as Malcolm stroked her dark hair as she sobbed.
She whispered, I can't seem to do anything; it is like my hands and legs won't work properly.
He replied softly, it will take some time, but the doctor said you would be better. At least you are well.
Then she said something which made Malcolm's heart break.
That was not a doctor, but an enemy of Catherine the great; he was posing as a doctor so he could kill me. She then looked into his eyes and cried. But I have you, my loyal subject. You are the only man in this world I can trust.
Then he held her tighter and cried as he stroked her hair.
He muttered, I'll always be loyal to you, no matter what. I love you Anita and always will.
Summer ten years later.
Dusk in the slums of Chicago during a sweltering day as the oppressive heat gripped the city. Several children played in the water spewing from an opened fire hydrant down the street from Malcolm's home. A black van was parked in front of his home and the doctor who had come ten years before stood on the sidewalk looking at the home's front door.
The doctor looked older and more worn but still in an expensive suit, and he seemed troubled as he waited.
Then the door opened and Malcolm walked out from it; in his uniform and holding his lunch pail, seeming older and more tired. He now had streaks of gray in his hair. He seemed saddened as he walked down the steps and did not notice the doctor until he was in front of him.
The doctor said, Mr. Pierce?
Malcolm then noticed the man and looked blankly at him for a moment then replied, you, I remember you. You where the one who gave Anita that operation many years ago.
The doctor nodded and half halfheartedly smiled. I have been checking up on all my patients who I helped with my operation. My fellow medical practitioners have been trying to convince everyone that I harmed people. So I have been seeing all my patients so I can know that I really helped them.
Malcolm frowned and gritted his teeth. He dropped his lunch pail and clenched both his hands into fists. The doctor asked, is something wrong Mr. Pierce?
Then Malcolm suddenly struck the doctor in the face who then fell to the ground; nose bloodied and looking up at the enraged man. Then Malcolm started talking so loud that he was almost screaming.
Do you want to know how you helped my wife; she was been practically bed ridden since you helped her! She can barely do anything for herself; she has been in bed almost every second since you helped her!
The doctor seemed scared that Malcolm was going to hit him again and said, I wanted to help you and her.
Malcolm yelled back, I don't why I hate you more, because you turned my wife into woman who can't do anything for herself or because you gave me hope which turned out to be a lie! And the worst part is that she still is in that house we share and in bed unable to get out; still thinking she is Catherine the great!
Malcolm then picked up his lunch pail and started to walk away. He then stopped, turned back and looked at the doctor who still was laying on the sidewalk.
I preferred being married to the Catherine the great who could still walk and do things for herself, not the Catherine the Great who can't even do the simplest of tasks! If you came here seeking absolution, you came to the wrong place. And if I ever see you again, god help me, I'll kill you; you lying bastard!
The doctor watched as Malcolm walked away; laying upon the sidewalk in front of the house where a husband lived with Catherine the Great who he would never give up on; a man who know would feel grief for the rest of his days and love for a woman he would never give up on.
The End
by Matthew Bissonnette
1950's Chicago during summer.
Malcolm Pierce walked down the sidewalk in a slum of the city just as dawn loomed to the east and twilight filled the streets with surreal gloom of the early morning hours. He was a diminutive man in his early thirties who was off pale complexion and gaunt in appearance with short auburn hair. He was wearing his uniform and carried a lunch pale; it was the same uniform he had on every night working as a security guard who watched over a museum in one of the wealthier regions of the city. Though it was in this rundown, decrepit part of town he resided; decaying tenements and small homes amongst numerous shops and other businesses. If one where to see this man walking home during the twilight hours, they would have easily seen that he was a man who seemed saddened who now walked empty streets just before morning would fill the sidewalks with pedestrians and bring about streets bustling with traffic.
Then he stopped in front of the cement steps to his home. A two story brownstone residence in need of repair; it was more then he could have afforded but was an inheritance. It was here he had lived for almost a decade with the wife he loved dearly; a wife who he knew was slipping away from him.
He looked at the wedding band on his finger and lowly said to himself, please, be better then you where yesterday.
He walked up the steps and opened the door which slowly opened with the rusty whine made by the rusty metallic door hinges. He walked into the darkened downstairs hallway and slowly closed the door behind him. The vague hints of daylight cascaded through the window and revealed the many pictures of him and his wife on the walls. Sun filled pictures of he and a young brunette with short, curly hair and with a hourglass figure which was accentuated with the dress she had on in every picture; in every picture they where smiling and seemed joyous and vibrant. But there where not many days now that gave Malcolm cause to smile.
He then went to the stairs at the end of the hallway and started to walk slowly up them towards the bedroom door at the top; he hoped the woman he loved and would always love would be asleep. He was honestly frightened of opening that door every morning when he came home from work.
He stood at the door and seemed hesitant to twist the door knob, but then did so and asked, Anita, are you awake?
He stood at the threshold of the door when suddenly a glass was thrown and shattered when it hit the wall beside him. He was saddened to find the room had been rendered dismayed violently while he was gone. The mattress of the king sized bed overturned, pillows torn asunder and there contents of feathers strewn everywhere; the happy pictures of those gleeful memories of the past thrown about; the glass smashed. And hiding in the corner of the room was his wife; the kneeling delicate woman cowering and her deep blue eyes looking at him full of fear; wearing a white silk nightgown.
He dropped his lunch pale and asked, what did you do?
Anita said in a frantic voice, are you with my enemies, are you with them who want me to be removed from the throne?
Malcolm slowly walked towards her and said calmly, it's Malcolm, the man who you married and who loves you.
She backed up against the wall and started to shake her head. How can I trust you, when so many seek the destruction of Catherine, czarina of all of Russia?
He stopped when he was near her and knelt down so they where eye level. He calmly told her, your name is Anita, and you know you can trust me no matter what.
She then looked at him and weakly smiled then put a hand on his cheek, her fingers felt so warm against his skin. Yes, you are one of my loyal subjects. But I have many enemies, the man who knocked on the door last night wanted to kill me. Even those whom pose as my friends want me dead. But I can trust you since you are loyal.
Then she suddenly seemed to become very afraid and began to shed tears yet said nothing. Malcolm then embraced his wife and held her as she cried; shedding a single bitter tear himself.
Though he knew she would not understand his sentiment, he told her anyway.
For better or for worse and I meant it, and I'll love you no matter what happens. I promise, I'll never give up on you Anita.
He just held her in silence as she cried as he longed for the woman he was knew to return. They stayed in each others embrace until the sun fully rose.
One month later.
In the dinning room of Malcolm's and Anita's home, they sat at a round wooden table in the small room; he in his uniform and she in a black sweater and matching skirt. Beyond the west window the sun was about to set behind the skyline of the city. They both ate in silence, slowly eating the stew he had prepared. Though she looked down at her meal, he was looking at her. All he thought about was the many meals they had at this table and the long talks, the many times together before she began to change.
He then hesitantly asked, I know you have never been much for my cooking, but how is the meal Anita?
She looked up at him and smiled. It is very good Malcolm.
He then briefly grinned and replied, thank you for calling me Malcolm. It has been so long since you called me that. And for a moment he could see who she once was, and dared hope that she was getting better.
Anita then looked down to her meal and said, I would know the name of my only loyal subject, I know you not to be one of my enemies who seek my death.
He then sighed and looked down at his food and they ate in silence. This continued for awhile when he suddenly got up and said, I have to be at work soon, but I'll be back in the morning.
She then seemed worried and told him, I am scared when you are not here, I feel alone and afraid of the stealthy attack of an assassin.
He looked into her eyes and said in a comforting tone, you will always be safe in our home.
Please be quick.
He then turned and walked through the house and opened the front door as it made its rusty whine and he stood at the doorway; a man stood at the bottom of the steps to his home and was looking at him.
Are you Malcolm Pierce?
The man was dressed in an expensive suit with a somewhat portly appearance and with sparse hair; mustache, beard and wearing glasses. He seemed to be staring right at Malcolm.
What do you want pal, he asked.
I am a health practitioner, I wanted to meet you when your family doctor told me of your wife's case.
Malcolm frowned and replied, I stopped seeing him once he insisted she be put in an asylum. I prefer my wife be home with me instead of locked up and given electrocutions and other treatments.
Yes, the man said, he told me she began to suffer from an increasingly severe psychosis three years ago, around the same time she discovered she could not have children. She believes she is someone else.
She thinks she is Catherine the Great, and she is afraid of everyone; even me sometimes. But if you want me to put her in an asylum to you can get the hell out of here.
The man smiled. No, I want to give the woman you love back to you.
Malcolm expression went blank as the man continued.
I have developed a new medical procedure which is helpful in cases like your wife's, a simple operation on her brain and she will return to the person you once knew. I call it a lobotomy.
Malcolm seemed doubtful and said, the doctor said there is nothing that could be done.
This procedure is very new, and has been helpful in most cases. Here take this. The man reached into a pocket and pulled out a card and handed it up to Malcolm. I will be in town till the end of the week, call me before then if you want-
Malcolm interrupted him. If I want what?
If you want your wife back and not this stranger you come to know.
Then the man abruptly walked away as Malcolm watched. He looked at the card then fell to his knee's, though he was profoundly happy he shed a few tears.
One week later.
During the twilight hours the front door to Malcolm's home slowly opened and he, in his uniform, walked through it and closed the door behind him as the rusty door hinges creaked. He stood in the downstairs hallway, holding his lunch pail, and looked up the stairs across of him and at the bedroom door at the top of them.
A few days before some men from a hospital had taken Anita with them and brought her home a few hours later after she had been given the surgery. She had on sunglasses to hide the large black bruises around her eyes; a result of the surgery. Ever since then she had been in bed since he was told she would need to rest and recuperate from the surgery. She had been mostly asleep since then and he had decided to let her rest. But now he wanted to finally talk to the woman he loved.
He walked down the hallway and started up the stairs until he came to the bedroom door. He began to twist the doorknob and hoped that Anita would be awake. He was happy to find the bedroom just as he left it and Anita sitting up in bed still wearing the dark glasses; in her silk nightgown and looking at a glass of water on the nightstand. The glass he had left before he departed from work.
He put his lunch pail on the ground then walked to the side of the bed and looked down at her as he smiled. He asked, Anita, are you feeling OK?
She mumbled, I want water, but my hands, I'm having trouble moving them.
He picked up the glasses and held it before her. She slowly lifted her hand and clutched the glass, but when he let go the glass fell out of her hand and almost fell on the bed but he quickly caught it. She tried to grasp it again but it fell from her grip since she seemed unable to close her hand around it and the glass fell on the bed and whetted the sheets.
He looked at her and asked, are you feeling any better?
She told him, I tried to get out of bed while you where gone, but my legs; they don't seem to work. I was on the floor all night before I could finally crawl back into the bed.
Malcolm frowned and felt deeply worried. He took a few steps back from the bed and asked, would you mind walking to me Anita?
She nodded and he watched as she slowly got up from the bed; but once she was on her legs she started teetering back and fourth until she almost fell but he quickly caught her. He knelt on the floor with her, she in his arm's as Malcolm stroked her dark hair as she sobbed.
She whispered, I can't seem to do anything; it is like my hands and legs won't work properly.
He replied softly, it will take some time, but the doctor said you would be better. At least you are well.
Then she said something which made Malcolm's heart break.
That was not a doctor, but an enemy of Catherine the great; he was posing as a doctor so he could kill me. She then looked into his eyes and cried. But I have you, my loyal subject. You are the only man in this world I can trust.
Then he held her tighter and cried as he stroked her hair.
He muttered, I'll always be loyal to you, no matter what. I love you Anita and always will.
Summer ten years later.
Dusk in the slums of Chicago during a sweltering day as the oppressive heat gripped the city. Several children played in the water spewing from an opened fire hydrant down the street from Malcolm's home. A black van was parked in front of his home and the doctor who had come ten years before stood on the sidewalk looking at the home's front door.
The doctor looked older and more worn but still in an expensive suit, and he seemed troubled as he waited.
Then the door opened and Malcolm walked out from it; in his uniform and holding his lunch pail, seeming older and more tired. He now had streaks of gray in his hair. He seemed saddened as he walked down the steps and did not notice the doctor until he was in front of him.
The doctor said, Mr. Pierce?
Malcolm then noticed the man and looked blankly at him for a moment then replied, you, I remember you. You where the one who gave Anita that operation many years ago.
The doctor nodded and half halfheartedly smiled. I have been checking up on all my patients who I helped with my operation. My fellow medical practitioners have been trying to convince everyone that I harmed people. So I have been seeing all my patients so I can know that I really helped them.
Malcolm frowned and gritted his teeth. He dropped his lunch pail and clenched both his hands into fists. The doctor asked, is something wrong Mr. Pierce?
Then Malcolm suddenly struck the doctor in the face who then fell to the ground; nose bloodied and looking up at the enraged man. Then Malcolm started talking so loud that he was almost screaming.
Do you want to know how you helped my wife; she was been practically bed ridden since you helped her! She can barely do anything for herself; she has been in bed almost every second since you helped her!
The doctor seemed scared that Malcolm was going to hit him again and said, I wanted to help you and her.
Malcolm yelled back, I don't why I hate you more, because you turned my wife into woman who can't do anything for herself or because you gave me hope which turned out to be a lie! And the worst part is that she still is in that house we share and in bed unable to get out; still thinking she is Catherine the great!
Malcolm then picked up his lunch pail and started to walk away. He then stopped, turned back and looked at the doctor who still was laying on the sidewalk.
I preferred being married to the Catherine the great who could still walk and do things for herself, not the Catherine the Great who can't even do the simplest of tasks! If you came here seeking absolution, you came to the wrong place. And if I ever see you again, god help me, I'll kill you; you lying bastard!
The doctor watched as Malcolm walked away; laying upon the sidewalk in front of the house where a husband lived with Catherine the Great who he would never give up on; a man who know would feel grief for the rest of his days and love for a woman he would never give up on.
The End
