“No, Catherine.”

Catherine sits, biting her bottom lip. Then she reaches into her purse and takes one of the melt-in-your-mouth sedatives the doctors have given her. Then she looks at me out of hooded eyes. Finally, she rises and walks along the beach looking for scavenger objects to use in her sculptures. In her early sculptures she used wrenches, screwdrivers, radio parts, plumber’s tools, but now she is not allowed such things and must seek safer objects. She collects them in the towel: shells, dried starfish, the top of an abandoned bikini bathing suit.

Ernest or I will check her before she enters with them. We constantly check her studio and other hiding places in the house. It’s agreed upon, terms of her release. It’s expected.

Anyone watching would not know that they’re watching a dangerous woman. Anyone watching would think Catherine’s perfectly harmless and perfectly beautiful. You’ve seen them—those endearing strangers—Oh, I bet she’d be just wonderful to know!

I watch her reach down and scoop up shadows. I’ll check on her return to find out whether any of the shadows are dangerous.

“I underwent hypnosis when I had her,” says Gillette, showing us a picture of herself holding a bald-headed baby Tatum, Tatum blonde and white as starch and bewildered. “I was afraid. I was unspeakably afraid. The doctors thought my psychological state would harm both of us, because they said they’d never seen a woman as afraid as I was. So they put me under hypnosis, so that I could feel in control of my baby. Uh, my body, I mean.”

She lights a cigarette, scratches the inside of her thighs, where a rash or heat bumps can be seen. We’re sitting in the trailer, at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and Tatum is somewhere in the front playing. “This is killing me. Some allergy. The doctors don’t know what the fuck it is.

“I had a twenty-four-hour labor. Can you imagine what it would have been like if I hadn’t gone under? They used to think hypnosis was magic, but it’s not. All those Svengali movies. At first, I used to think they were all fakers, and then when I believed in them, I didn’t think they could put me under hypnosis, not this girl. I thought if you had a strong mind, then it wouldn’t work. But they say it doesn’t matter how strong your mind is. And it’s very logical, very scientific, but still you have to trust the person hypnotizing you. I don’t know what I would have done otherwise. But hypnosis made it beautiful. The hypnosis made it like opening a door. I was proud afterwards, of myself. And they say that after I had her I was just smiling. That I was looking the way that every woman should look. As soon as she was out, and they pulled her up where I could see her, just this great smile. ‘That’s the way every woman should look,’ I heard one of the nurses say. I wish I could have seen myself. I bet it wasn’t just those little Gioconda smiles either. They couldn’t paint the way I must have looked. I guess I didn’t want to have to work to have her. I know this sounds awful. I didn’t want to have to work to have her. I wanted her, but without the work, without that kind of work, you know. Cathy, you should have a child.”