Godplayer (18 page)

Colonel Bentworth stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on Cassi’s desk. “All right. I’ll look forward to it. And I hope whatever is troubling you works out for the best.”

After he was gone, Cassi breathed the smoky air while her mind envisioned Colonel Bentworth in a dress uniform. She could imagine he would be gallant and dashing, and his mental problems would seem fictitious. Knowing the depth of his disorder, she found the fact that it could be so easily camouflaged disturbing.

Before she could even dictate her notes, her door opened again, and Maureen Kavenaugh came in and sat down. Maureen had been admitted a month previously for recurrent major depression. She’d had a serious setback when her husband had come in and slapped her around. Seeing her out of her room was as much a surprise as having William Bentworth voluntarily pay a visit. Cassi wondered if some miracle drug were being secretly added to the patients’ food.

“I saw the colonel go into your office,” said Maureen. “I thought you said you weren’t going to be here this afternoon.” Her voice was flat and emotionless.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” said Cassi.

“Well, since you are here, can I talk to you for a moment?” asked Maureen timidly.

“Of course,” said Cassi. She watched Maureen advance into the room, closing the door and sitting down.

“Yesterday when we talked ...” Maureen hesitated and her eyes filled with tears. Cassi pushed the box of tissues toward the woman.

“You ... you asked me if I’d like to see my sister.”

Maureen’s voice was so low that Cassi could barely hear. She nodded quickly, wondering what Maureen was thinking. The woman had not shown much interest in anything since her relapse even though Cassi had started her on Elavil. At team meeting several people had suggested electric shock, but Cassi had argued against it, thinking the Elavil and supportive sessions would be adequate. What amazed Cassi was Maureen’s insight into the dynamics of her condition. But for Maureen an understanding of her illness did not automatically give her the power to influence it.

Maureen acknowledged her hostility to her mother, who had abandoned both Maureen and her younger sister when they were toddlers, and the repressed jealousy she felt toward that pretty younger sister who had run off and married, leaving Maureen to live by herself. Out of desperation she’d married an inappropriate man.

“Do you think my sister would want to see me?” asked Maureen finally, her face wet with tears.

“I think she might,” said Cassi. “But we won’t know unless you ask her.” Maureen blew her nose. Her hair was stringy and in need of a wash. Her face was drawn, and, despite her medication, she’d continued to lose weight.

“I’m afraid to ask her,” admitted Maureen. “I don’t think she’ll come. Why should she? I’m not worth it. It’s hopeless.”

“Just thinking about talking to your sister is a hopeful sign,” Cassi said gently.

Maureen let out a long sigh. “I can’t make up my mind. If I call her and ask her and she says no, then everything will be worse. I want someone else to do it. Would you call her?”

Cassi flushed. She thought of her own indecisiveness in facing Thomas. Maureen’s feelings of dependency and helplessness seemed all too familiar. She too wanted someone else to make her decisions. With exhausting effort, Cassi tried to concentrate on the woman sitting across from her.

“I’m not sure it’s my place to contact your sister,” said Cassi. “But it’s something we can talk about. As far as seeing your sister, I think that is a good idea. Why don’t we talk about it more tomorrow? I think you’re scheduled for a session at two.”

Maureen agreed and, after taking several more tissues, went out, leaving the door open.

Cassi sat for some time, staring blankly at the wall. She felt certain that identifying with one of her patients was a sign of her inexperience.

“Hey! How come you aren’t in team meeting?” said Joan Widiker, doing a double take in the corridor after catching a glimpse of Cassi.

Cassi glanced up but didn’t answer.

“What’s going on?” asked Joan. “You look a little worse for wear.” She stepped into Cassi’s office and sniffed. “And I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t,” said Cassi. “Colonel Bentworth does.”

“He came to see you?” Joan raised her eyebrow. “You’re doing better than you think.” She paused and then sat down.

“I thought I’d let you know that Jerry Donovan and I went out. Have you talked with him?”

Cassi shook her head.

“It didn’t work out too well. All he wanted ...” Joan stopped in midsentence. “Cassi, what’s the matter with you?”

Tears overflowed Cassi’s eyes and ran down her cheeks. As she had feared, a friendly presence destroyed her self-control. She finally let go and, dropping her face into her hands, wept openly.

“Jerry Donovan wasn’t that bad,” said Joan, hoping a little humor might help. “Besides, I didn’t give in. I’m still a virgin.”

Cassi’s body shook with sobs. Joan came around the end of the desk and put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. For a few moments she said nothing. As a psychiatry resident, she didn’t have the usual negative reaction to tears that lay people did. From the strength of Cassi’s emotion Joan guessed that she needed the outlet.

“I’m sorry,” said Cassi, reaching for the tissues just as Maureen had. “I didn’t want to do this.”

“Sounds like you needed it. Do you want to talk?”

Cassi took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It all seems so hopeless.” As soon as she said the word, Cassi remembered Maureen had said the same thing.

“What’s so hopeless?” asked Joan.

“Everything,” said Cassi.

“Give me an example,” said Joan, challengingly.

Cassi pulled her hands away from her tear-streaked face.

“I went to the ophthalmologist today. He wants to operate, but I don’t know if I should.”

“What does your husband say?” asked Joan.

“That’s part of the problem.” As soon as Cassi spoke, she regretted it. She knew Joan, being both sensitive and clever, would piece together the whole picture, and, in the back of her mind, Cassi could hear Thomas telling her not to discuss her medical problems with anyone.

Joan took her hand from Cassi’s shoulder. “I think you need someone to talk to. As the official department consult, I’m at your service. Besides, anyone can afford my fee.”

Cassi managed a weak smile. Intuitively she knew she could trust Joan. She needed someone’s insight, and God knows she wasn’t doing too well on her own.

“I don’t know if you have any idea of Thomas’s schedule,” began Cassi. “He works harder than anyone I know. You’d think he was an intern. Last night he stayed in the hospital. Tonight he’ll stay in the hospital. He doesn’t have a lot of extra time ...”

“Cassi,” said Joan politely. “I don’t like to interrupt but why not save the excuses. Have you spoken to your husband about this operation?”

Cassi sighed, “I tried to bring it up a few hours ago, but it was the wrong time and place.”

“Listen,” said Joan. “I rarely make judgments. But when it comes to talking about eye surgery with your husband, there is no wrong time or place.”

Cassi digested this comment. She wasn’t sure if she agreed or not.

“What did he say?” asked Joan.

“He said he wasn’t an eye surgeon.”

“Ah, he wants to delegate his responsibility.”

“No,” said Cassi emphatically. “Thomas made sure I went to the best ophthalmologist.”

“It still seems a rather callous reaction.”

Cassi looked down at her hands, thinking Joan was too clever. She had the distinct impression that Joan could take this conversation further than Cassi would like.

“Cassi,” asked Joan, “is everything all right between you and Thomas?”

Cassi could feel the tears filling her eyes again. She tried to stop them but was only partially successful.

“That’s one way of answering,” said Joan empathetically. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Cassi bit her trembling lower lip. “If something happened to my relationship with Thomas,” she said, “I don’t know if I could go on. I think my life would fall apart. I need him desperately.”

“I can sense you feel that way. I also think that you don’t really want to talk about the problem. Am I right?”

Cassi nodded. She felt torn between her fear of Thomas and her guilt at rejecting Joan’s offer of friendship.

“Okay,” said Joan, “but before I go, I think some advice is in order. Maybe it’s presumptuous for me to say this, and it’s certainly not professional, but I have a feeling that you should try to lessen your dependency on Thomas. Somehow I don’t think you give yourself the credit you deserve. And that kind of dependence can really hurt a relationship in the long run. Well, enough unsolicited advice.”

Joan opened Cassi’s door, then stopped. “Did you say that Thomas was going to spend tonight in the hospital?”

“I think he has emergency surgery,” said Cassi, preoccupied with the concept of dependency. “When he does, he usually sleeps over rather than suffer the forty-minute commute.”

“Fine!” said Joan. “Why don’t you come home with me tonight? I’ve got a sofa bed in the living room and a fully stocked refrigerator.”

“And by midnight you’d know all my secrets,” said Cassi, only half in jest.

“I’d be on my honor not to probe,” said Joan.

“Anyway, I can’t,” said Cassi. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s always the chance Thomas might not have surgery and, in that case, he could come home. Under the circumstances I want to be there. Maybe we’ll talk.”

Joan smiled sympathetically. “You do have it bad. Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. I’ll be in the hospital for another hour or so.” She opened the door again and this time really left.

Cassi stared at the Monet trying to decide if it was safe for her to drive. It was reassuring to note that her vision had significantly improved; the drops were finally wearing off.

Thomas felt his hands tremble as he opened his office door and switched on the light. The clock on Doris’s desk indicated that it was almost six-thirty. It was already dark outside, making it hard to remember summer nights when it stayed light to nine-thirty. Closing the door, he held out his arm. It scared him to see his normally steady hand shake so violently. How could Cassi keep pressuring him when he was already so tense?

Approaching his desk, he opened the second drawer and pulled out one of his small plastic bottles. The combination of the child-proof top and his agitation made opening the package impossible. He had to restrain himself from dashing the thing on the floor and stomping on it with his heel. Finally he managed to extract one of the yellow tablets. He placed it on his tongue despite its bitter taste and walked into the small washroom, which still reeked of Doris’s perfume.

Forsaking a cup, Thomas bent and drank directly from the faucet. He went back to his office and sat at his desk. His anxiety seemed to be increasing. Wrenching open the second drawer again, he fumbled for the same plastic bottle. This time he was unsuccessful with the top. Slamming the bottle down on the desk top only succeeded in denting the wood surface and bruising his thumb.

Closing his eyes, Thomas told himself that he had to stay in control. When he opened his eyes, he remembered that in order to open the bottle he had to line up the two arrows.

But he did not take another pill. Instead his mind conjured up the image of Laura Campbell. There was no reason for him to be alone. “I wish there was something I could do for you,” she had said. “Anything!” Thomas knew he had her phone number in her father’s folder, ostensibly for emergency use. But wasn’t this an emergency? Thomas smiled. Besides, there were many ways to camouflage his intentions if he’d misread her signals. Thomas found Mr. Campbell’s folder and quickly dialed Laura’s number, hoping the woman was at home. She answered on the second ring.

“This is Dr. Kingsley. Sorry to bother you.”

“Is something wrong?” asked Laura worriedly.

“No, no,” assured Thomas. “Your father is doing fine. I’m terribly sorry about his jaundice. It is one of those unfortunate complications. I wish we could have anticipated it, but it should clear soon. Anyway the reason I’m calling is that your father will undoubtedly be discharged soon, and I thought, perhaps, you’d like to discuss the case.”

“Absolutely,” said Laura. “Just tell me when.”

Thomas twisted the phone cord. “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’m sure you can guess what my schedule is like. But it so happens I’m waiting for a surgery and am presently alone in my office. I thought, perhaps, you might consider coming over.”

“Can you give me thirty minutes?” asked Laura.

“I think so,” said Thomas. He knew he had plenty of time.

“I’ll be there,” said Laura.

“One other thing,” added Thomas. “To get into the Professional Building at this hour you must go through the hospital. The doors here are locked at six.”

Thomas hung up. He felt much better. Excitement had replaced anxiety. Opening the desk drawer, he dropped in the container of pills. Then he called the cardiac catheterization lab to check on the patient in cardiogenic shock. As he had expected, the patient was still awaiting catheterization. No matter what the procedure showed, Thomas guessed he had several hours.