Lost and Found (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

THE TIMING CAN’T POSSIBLY BE worse. I’m sitting in a consult with a client I’ve just met for the first time, a woman whose work I’ve admired for years, and my secretary comes over the intercom. This is something she’s been specifically instructed never to do unless someone is about to lose a limb and only I can save him.

“Doctor Oliver? I’m sorry to disturb you, but it’s about your brother.”

I frown at the phone. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

Smiling at my patient, I stand. “My apologies. This will only take a minute.”

She smiles back at me. “No problem. I have a brother too. I get it.”

I touch her shoulder on my way out as a thank you. Not every patient is as understanding as this one. She’s more old school and has the manners that go along with it. I wish I had more clients like her, but it seems as if more and more these days the patients are getting younger, not older, and definitely more inclined to consider themselves the center of the universe.

As soon as the door closes, I’m at the secretary’s desk, yanking the phone off the cradle. “Doctor Oliver.”

I’m taken a bit aback when I don’t hear my brother’s slurred voice coming through the line in response.

“Doctor Oliver, hello, this is Officer Frank Filner over at the thirteenth precinct, Manhattan.”

My blood runs cold.
Oh, God. Not Jeremy!
I got this same phone call three months ago, a police officer telling me my sister-in-law had been in an accident. Everyone in the family carries my business card in their wallets, so I’m the lucky one who gets these calls.

“We picked up your brother on a public intoxication charge. He says you’re his lawyer, but I know you’re not a lawyer.”

“No, I’m a physician.” I sigh heavily, the weight of our world pressing down on my shoulders. “What did he do this time?”

“He wizzed in a fountain. Said he had to seal the deal, whatever that means. Bunch a kids saw him, but since we only heard about it and didn’t see it, we’re just sticking with the public intoxication charge and not adding the indecency charge.”

“Thirteenth precinct?” I quickly map out Manhattan in my head. “That’s not near the fountain.”

“You know what fountain he wizzed in?”

“I could guess. Over by the Apple store?”

“Yeah. But he took off on foot. Made it into our area before we caught up with him. This is just a courtesy call, really. The guy just keeps crying about his wife. I guess she died recently.”

My throat closes up a little. “Yes. Three months ago. She was pregnant. The baby survived, but she didn’t.”

“Upper east side?” the officer asks.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, that was a rough one. I wasn’t there, but I heard about it.” There’s a pause and then a long sigh. “Listen, what do you want me to do with him? Do you want to come pick him up?”

I blink a few times. “You’d do that? Let me come get him?”

“Yeah, this time. Maybe you can get him checked into a program. By the looks of him, this isn’t his first run-around with the bottle, if you know what I mean.”

My mind is spinning. Do I bail my brother out once again or let him learn his lesson? And what kind of lesson will he learn in prison? I fear it won’t be the right one, the one that sets him down the path to recovery.

“Can I get him into a program right now?” I ask.

The officer pauses. “Hmmm … well … I suppose, you being a doctor and with our say-so, we could put him on a forty-eight hour psychiatric hold at Bellevue. Baker Act him.”

“Do it.” I don’t even hesitate. This is the best thing for him. I know exactly who to call. One of my best friends in med school went into psychiatry and he recently set up a practice in town. Hopefully he has privileges at Bellevue. If not, I’ll make sure he gets them.

“He isn’t going to be happy,” the officer warns.

“Yeah, well, he’s making everyone else miserable with his bullshit, so I’m not worried.”

“Guy’s been through a lot,” the officer says.

Maybe he’s scolding me for being a hardass, but I’m not going to let that make me feel guilty. All I can picture is my sister crying and little Cassie lying there on the bed with a diaper full of nuclear disaster.

“We’ve all been through a lot,” I say. “I’ll come down there to sign something if you need me to.

“Nah, it’s all set. We’ll take it from here. Contact the hospital if you have any questions.”

“Will do. And thanks, Officer Filner. I appreciate the call.”

“Anytime. Just doing my job.”

I hang up, knowing Officer Filner wasn’t just doing his job. Sometimes Manhattan sucks with its traffic and non-stop pressure, but then again, sometimes it’s the best place in the world to live. When I catch a glimmer of humanity like this it makes me believe we’re all in this thing together.

“Send some cigars to Officer Filner at the thirteenth precinct,” I say to my secretary as I head back to my office.

“How many?” she asks.

“Whatever you think is appropriate for a guy who just saved my brother’s ass.”

As I take a seat across from a Hollywood star who has featured in more than fifteen blockbuster films over her career, I can think of nothing but how I’m going to go to Bellevue after I’m done here and confront my brother with the fact that not only is he about to become a more permanent resident of the psychiatric ward, but he’s also about to lose his parenting rights.

Now
this
is what I call a shitty day.

Chapter Thirty-Six

JEREMY IS HAVING A FIT and it ain’t pretty. The alcohol is one thing, but I’m pretty sure he’s wasted on something else too. His eyes are blood-red and he’s got white goo in the corners of his mouth. When I say he’s spitting mad, I’m not being poetic. He’s literally spitting at me with every word that flies out of his mouth.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” he screams. His arms are tied to the sides of the bed as are his feet. The tendons and veins in his neck stand out as he strains against his bindings.

A nurse stands off to the right near the window, acting as though she hears and sees nothing while she enters information into a computer on wheels.

“Ease up, Jer,” I say, trying to calm him down, “this is just to get you sober, nothing else.”

“Fuck being sober! I don’t want to be sober!”

The nurse glances up at me and we share a look of sadness together. This is not good, her expression says.

“Maybe you’ll change your mind tomorrow,” I say, holding back my sorrow. My brother doesn’t need my pity right now, he needs my strength, so that’s what he’s going to get — like it or not.

“Tomorrow I’ll be outta here, and
fuck you
for putting me here.” He’s growling as he strains against his bindings.

“You’re not going anywhere tomorrow. You’re on a forty-eight hour hold and I’m going to see about making it fifteen days.”

Jeremy’s body arches up off the bed at that little bit of information, and then he just starts screaming.

“I think maybe you should just step outside for a bit,” says the nurse, pushing on my arm. It’s only because I’m a physician with privileges at the hospital that I’m allowed in here at all, so I take her advice and leave the room.

Once we’re outside the door and it’s shut, she looks up at me. “He just needs to detox and then he’ll be more in the mood to talk.”

“Hopefully,” I say, speaking the words I know are in her head.

“Yes, hopefully.” She rests her hand on my arm. “These things take time. You did the best thing for him. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m not.” Not really. Maybe a little.

The nurse’s hand moves up towards my elbow, stroking me a little. “I’m here for you, if you have any questions or concerns about his meds. I know you’re not the attending, but you’re family and I know you understand what we’re doing here.”

I take a step back, knowing the next step will be her giving me her personal cell number in case I want to get in touch with her after hours. This happens all the time, but I’m a big believer in keeping business and personal lives separate. Hospital drama is notorious for making people miserable and I’ve already got a corner on the market for that emotion.

I glance at her name tag, not personally familiar with the nurses in the psyche unit. “Thanks, Jennifer, really, I appreciate it. You can let Jeremy know I’ll stop by tomorrow when he’s feeling better.”

She nods. “I will. Would you like my number? In case you need to talk about his care after hours?” She gives me that knowing look, a simple invitation that part of me hates myself for turning down. I could lose myself in some hot sex right now, I really could. But maybe I’m already lost enough as it is.

“No, that’s all right. I’m going to let things take their course and not interfere.”

“Okay, suit yourself. I’m here if you change your mind.” She turns to head down the hall, leaving me there alone.

As I make my way to the elevator, I wonder how I’m going to bring this up with my sister. Jana already has so much shit to deal with. Do I really want her freaking out about Jeremy? Coming to visit him with Cassie on her hip?

Then I imagine her expression when she finds out after the fact that I’ve had Jeremy committed and he’s been in the hospital for a while, when I turn a corner and almost run into someone.

“Whoa, sorry about that,” she says, jumping to the side, barely avoiding plowing me over.

As soon as I see her scruffy hairdo and crazy bag, I recognize her. The Bag Lady.

“You,” I say, blinking a few times to be sure I’m not hallucinating. “I can’t believe it. Are you stalking me or something?” As if I didn’t have enough on my plate that I’d need to deal with a crazy stalker. Jesus, what next?

She stands there for a few seconds with her mouth hanging open and her hair flying all over the place. Then her hand goes to her hip and she sticks her jaw out.

“Excuse me, but I’m here to see a
patient
.” She suddenly has an accent I hadn’t noticed before. She must be from Boston. “What’s your excuse for almost knocking me over again?” She points at my suit and then my tie.

I’m confused enough that I’m lost for words. But that doesn’t affect her in the slightest. Before I can think of a response, she’s off and running again.

“Never mind,” she shouts out. “I totally don’t care.”

I spin around in time to see her jump into an elevator and the doors slide shut behind her.

I stand there staring at the wall and blinking. What in the hell just happened? Am I being stalked or do I just have the worst luck in the entire world? I’m starting to wonder if getting rid of that ring had any effect at all. I’d thought it was a bad talisman, but maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m the walking embodiment of bad luck. Maybe I’m to blame for crazy people stalking me and covering me in god-knows-what. Fountain water? Rain water? Sweat?

My feet are finally working again, so I let them take me to the front of the hospital. I’m headed for the doors, but then take a quick detour to the welcome desk. An older woman I recognize as one of our most decorated volunteers smiles at me.

“Hello, Doctor Oliver. What can I do for you today?”

Her dentures are almost blue they’re so perfectly white.

“Hello, Esther.” I give her my panty-dropper smile. It works like a charm on the older ladies especially. “I was just wondering if you could tell me about a visitor here. Someone who just left your desk probably.” Normally I wouldn’t be allowed access to this information, but I’m kind of an expert at getting ladies to break the rules. And yes, I’m proud of that.

She frowns, maybe a little confused. “A visitor?”

“Yes, a woman who has this crazy kind of hair…,” I make motions above my head to indicate a halo of frizz, “… a skirt and a big purse? She was coming to visit a patient, she said.”

Esther’s smile comes back and it has a sneaky edge to it. “Ohhhh, so you want to know her name, is that it?”

“Yes, and the room she’s going to, if that’s not too much trouble.”

I have no idea why I’m asking for this woman’s information. I’m telling myself it’s because I want to make sure I’m protecting myself from a potential stalker, but I really cannot picture her being a danger to anyone. Not with that hair. Not with that skirt. She looks like a gypsy reject. A cute one if I’m being honest. The kind that drinks a lot of wheat grass. Not that I care.

“Well, it says on my clipboard here that her name is Leah Wallace and she’s visiting her father in room four-oh-eight. She mentioned something about her husband having tuberculosis? From Zimbabwe?” Esther waves a hand in the air in front of her. “I don’t know. She seems kind of looney to me.”

“And so she is.” I knock the top of the counter. “Thank you, Esther. Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, Doctor Oliver. See you again real soon.”

“Yes, indeed,” I say as I walk away.

Yes, indeed. Now that my brother’s been committed here, everyone will be seeing me way more than I would like.

I let out a long sigh as I put my hand up out on the curb. Time to catch a cab and head over to my attorney’s office. My work as big brother never seems to be done.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I’M BACK IN BROOKLYN AGAIN, but this time I’ve brought Chinese food with me from the city. My sister forewarned me that she wasn’t in the mood to cook.

When I walk in the door the first thing that hits me is the smell. It’s like the bottom of a trash can. I remember then that I promised to get a housekeeper in here and I pause to grab my phone and tap out a text to my secretary. She should still be in the office.

Veronica, get a housekeeper scheduled to come to my sister’s place in Brooklyn 3x a week starting tomorrow. Bill it to the office.

I close my phone and slide it into my pocket. Problem solved.

“Jana, where are you?” I call out, cocking an ear to listen for the answer.

I get nothing.

Grabbing clothing and toys as I walk up the stairs, I follow my nose. It leads me into Cassie’s room and a plastic garbage pail overloaded with dirty diapers. Snagging it, I hold it at arm’s length and leave the room. I pass by three other bedrooms and find them all empty, all a shambles. It looks as though my sister hasn’t run a vacuum in here in weeks. Our dearly departed mother would have had a heart attack at what I’m seeing. I’m pissed at myself for not getting help out here sooner.