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Show Moon -124 far worse double-bind than the one supposedly wrought by the "schizophrenogenic" mother-anything could be called sick if the doctor said so. In her Lower East Side apartment, surrounded by pasted up sepias and oils, Mark taught her things about making love she'd never imagined, and she felt herself slipping into constant need for him like a craving for air. He urged her move into his apartment on the grounds of the state hospital, pressed for a wedding date. It was becoming difficult to put off the marriage, but a flickering light inside, said, "Wait a little longer." One day he said, "Come with me to the hospital. I want you to see your new world." "Yes," she thought. "I need to know this." The grounds of the State hospital were as lovely as a park, with sycamores and oak trees, great sweeps of well-tended lawn, but the buildings were massive and dark, had bars on the windows. He ushered her inside a building. "I'm taking you to the disturbed ward," he said. "If you're to be my wife,.you must know what I live with every day." Through long empty corridors they went, past locked doors, through corridors lined with chairs on which sat people pale as ghosts, motionless people, or people who pulled at the air as if they were climbing. Through another locked door they entered a large room crowded with disheveled women and nurses hovering in their white uniforms and caps like anxious angels. Some attendants were strapping a gray haired woman into a canvas contraption that held her prone on a bed. The woman was screaming. Joy took Mark's arm, whispered, "Why are they doing this?" He told her the canvas thing |