Henry’s Dilemma | Dina Sokal

A thin layer of snow glistened on the tree branches in the morning sun. Henry glanced at the snow but focused inwards, his thoughts on his newest patient, a young mother, Jenny and her baby, Lily. A car honked as he crossed the street, and then, a few drops of snow, cold and wet, landed on his forehead, bringing him out of his reverie for only a moment. He strode through the hospital entrance once again, thinking of Jenny.

He reached the stairwell to the unit and paused before climbing the two flights of stairs. He dreaded seeing Jenny’s flat expression and encountering her silences. It seemed daunting to him to persevere with her. Something about the color of her eyes and her slender frame disturbed him, maybe even terrified him. Sally, his wife, told him how obsessed he was with her, talking about her every night, about her deep depression, her silence, and her lack of desire to see her baby; nothing seemed to matter to her.

He began the climb up the stairs, holding onto the wooden banister. The hospital was built in the late 1800’s and designed to be an elegant place for people suffering from mental illness, those who could afford a newer and more progressive type of treatment—where people treated them with kindness and talking and walking therapies. The grounds around the hospital reflected this approach as there were winding paths, gardens, benches, and massive trees. Now, in the 1970’s, some of the paint and floors looked worn and needed renovation but his unit had been remodeled, repainted, and carpeted. At the top of the first staircase, he looked out a semicircular window covering the entire wall and divided into smaller windowpanes by wood framing. Outside, a patient meandered around one of the paths. He imagined Jenny agreeing to walk outside with him, even in the cold, and finally talking about her anger at her baby. His hopes for her made his final climb up the last flight of steps easier. And he remembered how talented the new resident, Pete, was in working with Jenny.

He buzzed himself in and went to the nurses’ station where several staff awaited his arrival. All began talking at once, including Pete who filled him in on Jenny. Henry noticed how long Pete’s black hair had grown during his month on the unit and how his dark mustache moved when he talked. He had shaved his beard off a week ago. Henry brushed his hand through his well cropped dark hair and raised his bushy eyebrows in a questioning way as Peter talked.

“She’s mostly silent, still,” Peter said, “but she did nod her head ‘yes’ when I asked if her foster mother could visit with Lily after lunch tomorrow…this will be her first time seeing the baby since being hospitalized.”

The nurse working with Jenny said a few words about her. At six feet, Pete loomed over the nurse.

“That’s a good step forward, Pete,” Henry said. He rubbed his cold hands together and left them to put his coat in his office and drink his coffee before seeing Jenny. Pete turned to talk to a nurse about another patient.

 ***

Henry and Pete found Jenny sitting alone in the sunroom area of the unit later that morning. They sat on a rose-colored sofa across from her. She held her head down, her feet crossed over and her blond hair, limp and long, hung over her green eyes, a vacant look in them. Her thin frame contrasted to the two men and made her appear to be in her mid-teens despite being almost 20. She uncrossed her feet, glanced up at the two of them and looked down at the floor again. An old Persian rug, in variations of red and purple, spread out under the furniture. She fixed her eyes on it.

Henry spoke up in a quiet voice. “I hear you agreed to your foster mother bringing in Lily tomorrow.”

Jenny looked up but gazed into the space beyond him as if he didn’t exist. Henry wondered if she still heard voices or was stuck back in her past. He knew her alcoholic mother had neglected her, and her father had died. Her gaze reminded him of someone; despite his jacket and long-sleeved shirt, he shivered. Some of the dread he experienced on his way in, in the morning, returned. Pete didn’t notice him shivering; he bent towards Jenny and said,

“Miss Rachel told us Lily is doing well but misses her mother.” He had caught Jenny’s attention, as this time, she looked at them and whispered.

“Miss Rachel is her mother.”

The two men looked at each other, shocked at her finally speaking—an entire sentence—and at her not acknowledging being Lily’s mother. Pete crunched his eyebrows together and frowned. He mouthed a silent “what?” to Henry who mulled over her response as well and then said,

“Perhaps you’re afraid you won’t be able to love Lily.”

Miss Rachel had told him about Jenny’s pregnancy being unplanned and how she almost died during the delivery. Just before her hospitalization, she refused to hold the baby and became agitated.

Jenny froze in her chair. Henry heard the noise of other patients and staff chattering in the dining room as he watched her for any movement. She had shut down again. Pete walked over to her, touched her on the shoulder and said, “Jenny, Miss Rachel is her mother for now. You’ll decide when you’re ready to be Lily’s mother. It’s up to you.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder when she flinched and shrugged it away, but she did look at him and then Henry, shifting in her seat and looking at them with recognition. Her breathing slowed as well and she opened her mouth slightly, relaxing it from its prior tight-lipped appearance.

 Henry reiterated Pete’s approach after scolding himself for wanting to rush Jenny to bond with Lily. “Yes, it’s up to you Jenny—when to be Lily’s mom—when you’re ready. She’s in good hands with Miss Rachel and your boyfriend.” He wondered why he couldn’t control his sense of urgency over Jenny and Lily bonding. With most of the mothers he could be more patient.

 She didn’t speak but continued to gaze at them and to move more freely. Her hands unclenched, she wiggled her fingers, and she tapped one foot on the rug. She pushed herself off the chair and left them on the sofa as she walked away from them and down the hall to her bedroom. Henry complimented Pete on his interventions and quick thinking. He wondered why her gaze filled him with dread and seemed so familiar.

 ***

Later that night, Henry sat with Sally at the kitchen table after dinner. Across from him he could see a sliver of moon through the sliding glass doors. It glowed in a black sky, lighting up the tall trees, all leafless in the winter cold. He kept thinking about Jenny and Miss Rachel’s visit the next day and didn’t hear Sally’s musings about the children, Mark, and Lizzie, or about her patients in her private practice.

“Henry?” Sally paused in her storytelling.

“Oh, sorry. What were you saying?” He pushed himself to turn to Sally and appear interested.

“You’re not listening to me.”

She picked up the dirty dishes and took them to the sink to wash them, a sign of her being irritated with him. He preferred her usual chattiness and vivaciousness, parts of her he had loved from the day he had met her. He followed her to the sink to explain himself.

“I’m not sure why this young woman is consuming me. Her still face, her eyes, and her refusal to hold her baby—it’s eating at me. My resident is doing well with her, but I feel lost.”

“Don’t worry, Henry. You usually find your way.” She rinsed the dinner plates, popped them in the dishwasher, and dried her hands while he still stood lost in thought.

“Henry, Henry.” Sally almost shouted before he heard her. She looked like she had something on her mind.

“What Sally?”

“You’re scaring me.”

“I am?”

“Yes. You’re getting too distant. We haven’t made love in three weeks, and I miss you.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…”

“Just be there for us.”

Before he could reply, she went to check on the kids who were building towers in the den. He heard her laugh and marvel at their creativity, and out of curiosity and a desire to be present in the way Sally wanted him to be, he meandered into the den to see what they had built.

Mark took Henry’s hand as he walked in—such a small and soft hand in his felt comforting. They stood together as Henry surveyed a sprawling mass of buildings, cars, farm animals, and toy people covering the entire floor of the den. The children had removed every single block and toy from the shelves which were now empty. Some of the cars curved around the sofa on either side and a set of train tracks formed a circle in front of it. Lizzie, his nine-year-old with her black hair in two braids, held a child’s plastic megaphone to her lips and described the town, its buildings, and its streets in a dramatic voice.

“This is the town of streets and lights belonging to…to the dwarves of the underworld. And here’s the castle with its towers and dungeons and the homes of the townspeople.”

“And see the trees and barn—I made a forest and put all the animals near the barn.” Mark, seven, excitable and proud, pranced near the forest and barn situated next to the train tracks after letting go of Henry’s hand. “It’s amazing, Dad. Isn’t it?” He paused and raised his bushy eyebrows like his dad’s and looked at Henry who smiled at him and at Sally. She had lost her sour look from earlier and smiled back at the two of them. Her eyes crinkled and lit up, her cheeks puffed out, her mouth curved upwards, and her lips parted showing her teeth. She always looked more beautiful when she smiled. He appreciated her mothering. Sally knew what she wanted from him and made it clear over the last few years, enabling them to grow closer after a difficult time in their marriage. His mother didn’t express her needs, especially during her darker moods.

 ***

One morning, he woke up on his own as the sunshine filled his room; he smelled coffee which his father had brewed before leaving for work. He was old enough at age nine to fix his breakfast, but he felt adrift when his mother didn’t come downstairs to help him make waffles or pancakes, and he couldn’t find any cereal. So, he kept tapping on her bedroom door and pushed it open when she didn’t respond. She laid in bed, her eyes wide open but no expression on her face and no response to him. Finally, she shoved her blankets off and stood up to follow him downstairs. She didn’t talk while she handed him the cereal and let him empty it into his bowl and get the milk. She stood there, her green eyes vacant and her slender frame appearing even more slender than usual. Somehow, he managed to walk to the school bus stop on his own, but he missed her and her usual chatter reassuring him he’d have a fun day. A group of children focused on another boy’s new toy car, and he didn’t join them. Instead, he looked at the other children with their mothers, and a sense of being a lone star in a dark sky hit him. For months afterwards, his mother isolated in her room and stopped interacting with him or his father—her smiles had disappeared and her laughter.

 ***

Sally came over and hugged him from behind as the children continued to parade around their town. He welcomed her warmth and turned around to hug her more closely. They stood apart and smiled at each other again. It astonished him how much her smiles meant to him; he had missed his mother’s smiles and her blank face had scared him and even angered him. No wonder Jenny’s frozen face bothered him and gave him a sense of dread, the same dread he experienced every morning after his mother’s mood changed.

“I love you, Sally.” His words surprised the two of them. The children paused in their play as they noticed their parents together; they gathered around them and held hands while grabbing hold of Henry’s hand and Sally’s, not wanting to be left out. Henry enjoyed this moment of closeness—something he hoped to help Jenny and Lily experience. Maybe tomorrow, during Rachel’s visit, Jenny would soften, but he needed to be patient, and now, he knew he could be.

 ***

Rachel, a woman in her fifties with a full figure, puffy lips, and gold rimmed glasses, arrived around one o’clock the next day. She carried Lily, bundled up in blankets and warm sleeper pajamas, in her arms.

Henry greeted her at the entrance to the unit.

“Nice to meet you, Lily.” Her eyes opened slightly at the sound of his voice. He grabbed her fingers, and she curled her hand around his.

“She’s so sweet and lovable. I don’t understand Jenny not loving her back,” Rachel said.

“That’s what we’re trying to understand. Jenny’s insisting you’re her mother.”

“Oh.” Rachel shifted Lily’s position and then said, “So, where’s Jenny? Aren’t we going to meet with her?”

Henry walked to the nurses’ station and Pete met up with them, carrying a cup of coffee and chatting about how much everyone cared about Jenny and hoped she’d overcome her fear of Lily. The nurses directed them to the lunchroom as Jenny had joined the other residents for the first time and was finishing her dessert.

She sat at a long wooden table eating chocolate ice cream but not talking to anyone. She looked into the distance again as if she saw something in front of her other than the dining room chairs or large window where the sun beamed through the clouds. Henry watched as Rachel stepped back and almost started to cry. He knew she had seen Jenny yesterday but now she had Lily with her.

“She seems worse…I should never have brought her to the hospital…Jenny, I’m so sorry…”

The baby, almost as if she were in tune with Rachel, started crying. Everyone in the room looked over at them except Jenny as Rachel took out a bottle to feed her. She gulped it down, her swallowing loud and vigorous. A group of residents gathered around her and commented on how tiny she was and what a good eater. Jenny stood up and stamped her foot.

“She’s not cute. She’s too little, too little for me to care for. Besides, she nearly killed me. She’s mean, and I think she hates me.” And then she sat back down and refused to look at Lily or Miss Rachel. Instead, she tromped back to her bedroom and left Henry, Pete and Rachel, holding the baby, not knowing what to do next.

Henry thought of his own mother and of Sally’s love for their children and of how important it was for Jenny to bond with her baby. He asked Rachel if he could hold Lily. She nodded ‘yes’ and moved Lily into his arms as her eyes opened halfway during the transition. He remembered how Lizzie and Mark had nestled in his arms when they were babies as he cradled Lily. He told Rachel and Pete to wait there before joining him in Jenny’s room.

He peeked into the room; Jenny lay on her bed looking up at the ceiling and clenching her fists. He moved closer to her and began talking baby talk to Lily whose eyes opened a bit more. He talked to Jenny.

“Here’s Lily. I’d like to share her with you. Look at her eyes opening. She doesn’t hate you. She’s looking for you.”

“I don’t believe you. Before, my mother’s voice kept saying—'you can’t do it. You’re no mother.’”

“Do you hear your mother’s voice now?”

“No. She forgot about me. All she wants is her alcohol.” 

“Lily wants you.” He held the baby closer to her, and Jenny pushed herself to a sitting position. Her fists relaxed as she watched Lily’s eyes flutter, and her lips form a slight smile.

“She’s smiling at me.” Jenny leaned over Lily and touched her arm.

“Here, let me put her in your lap,” Henry said.

To his surprise, Jenny seemed mesmerized by Lily and didn’t protest as he placed the baby in her arms. Jenny let the baby’s head nestle in the crook of one arm and gazed down at her. And then Lily smiled—a big smile—like Sally’s it seemed to Henry—an early smile at six weeks. Jenny gasped, smiled back, and held Lily’s tiny fingers in her hand.

“She smiled at me—my dad’s smile and Thomas’ smile.” Jenny cuddled her closer to her body and looked at Henry amazed.

“I think she remembers you and your voice from all those months inside of you.”

“Really? Do you really believe that?”

“I do. Mothers are special. Maybe Miss Rachel can bring Lily in every day so you can hold her and get to know her. You’re her number one person, and she needs you.”

He thought of his loneliness during his mother’s depressions and how happy he’d feel whenever she recovered. He watched Jenny gazing at Lily’s face. Rachel and Pete arrived at the door, and Rachel’s face lit up seeing Lily in Jenny’s arms. She came to the bedside to be near them. Henry waved Pete over to join them and then glanced at his watch. He had promised Sally he’d be home for dinner with her and the children, but now he had spent too much time with Jenny. He still had several more patients to see. Once again, he might be home too late and would have to break his promise to be intimate with Sally after the children went to bed. He left the room as Pete and Rachel watched Jenny cradle Lily for the first time. If he rushed, perhaps he’d get home in time to be with Sally and see her smile.

---

Dina Sokal is a child, adolescent, and adult psychiatrist. She and her husband have three children and two grandchildren. She received her M.A. in Creative Writing and Publishing from the University of Baltimore in May 2023. She self-published her first book of short stories, After the Rain, for her thesis. Her hobbies are singing, running, water coloring, and writing. She is grateful to experience the magic of writing fiction and hopes to promote themes of magic and hope through her stories.