Mind Over Mind (22 page)

“That bad, huh?” She looked again at the photo. There was something very captivating about her, very sleek and sensuous, but kind of disturbing, too, like a cross between a panther and a snake. There was something possessive about the way she had her arms around him…
Think I’ll just hate her now
, Sachiko decided. She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until Joshua laughed.

“I’ll give you Rique’s e-mail; you can join his anti-fan club. All my friends hated her. I kind of neglected a lot of people as well as things like my studies. I just really—our relationship was pretty…intense. What was good was incredibly good; what was bad…The costume really says it all: LaTisha was heaven and hell.” He looked at the photo with a half grin, half grimace, a little wistful. Silence came between them.

Sachiko broke it. “You’re not on the rebound, are you?”

“No. I admit, I have a few unresolved issues to work out, but I haven’t been pining or looking for love or anything. In fact,” he shut the book and kicked it under the couch, then turned to face her, “my plan had been to spend a quiet summer of hermit-like introspection and work. But then you had to come along with those exotic eyes and beguiling grin.”

“Aw, did I wreck your widdle pwans?” she teased as he pushed her back against the cushions.

“You’re forgiven.” A moment later, he purred, “I like your ideas better.”

_*

Many, many moments later, she pulled away and leaned against his shoulder with a happy sigh. As before, they were playing by what she’d jokingly called “good Catholic boy rules.” He’d even resisted her attempts to ease off his shirt, though she did manage to unbutton it part way. She caressed his smooth chest. He had one hand behind his head and the other was playing with her hair. “Can I ask you something?”

“I love to be kissed right here,” he answered, pointing to the hollow of his shoulder.

“I’ll remember that,” she said caressing the spot. “But my question is more serious. Ydrel said you told Isaac that it was OK to die, and you, you made him agree?”

He stopped stroking her hair. “Is he upset about it?”

“No, not really. But I am. How could you do that?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. She waited, afraid to look into his face, wondering if she should have waited until another day to say anything, or even at all.

You know how upset he was about Isaac. Why’d you break the moment just to upset him again?

When he did speak, he didn’t sound upset, just a little apprehensive. “Let me up, would ya?” She slid away, and he sat up and reached under the couch, pulling out—again—his scrapbook. He flipped to the back. “This is my grandpa Jebediah, my mom’s dad.”

She leaned over to look at the photos, taken when Joshua was different ages: a portly, smiling man with just a hint of gray holding an infant with Joshua’s mom leaned over him; a much grayer and heavier man passing out Christmas presents; finally, a drastically older and thinner man in a chair with a young boy Joshua standing beside him. The man had a blanket over his knees, although Joshua was in shorts and a tank top, and although they tried to hide it for the photo, Sachiko’s nurse’s training made her spot the IV.

“He died just after my tenth birthday. We never really knew quite what he had, just that his body would go nuts: one day, he couldn’t eat enough; the next week, a cracker would make him vomit all day long. He had these awful, awful hemorrhages. He was in and out of the hospital for a few months; the doctors finally said there was nothing they could do and he had maybe a few months to live. They recommended a nursing home. But we couldn’t. So we brought him home, and some hospice workers came and helped us. Anyway, he just got worse, and it got more and more painful for him. And my mom. I mean, even as an adult, she was always his little girl; if something needed to be done, she’d call him as easily as my dad. He almost died a couple of times, but just kept hanging on.

“Anyway, after one especially bad hemorrhage, my mom went downstairs to put the towels in the washer and call the hospital to see if there was anything we could do, anything, and I was with him. He was shivering so hard, and he was too weak to speak, but he just looked at me, he was so—”

He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut and mashed his lips together. She wanted to throw her arms around him and comfort him, but she still didn’t understand how this applied to Isaac, so she waited, silent but sympathetic. Finally, he spoke, in a quiet almost childlike voice.

“I told him it was OK, that Dad and I would take care of Mom, and he could die. He didn’t have to hurt anymore. I told my grandpa to die.

“And he smiled at me, and tears fell from his eyes, but he just smiled. Then he died.”

Suddenly, he stood up, spilling the book onto the floor. He strode to the kitchen and pulled a can of soda out of the refrigerator. Only after he’d popped the can and downed half its contents in a long series of swallows did he return, picking up a box of tissue on his way. Smiling ruefully, he handed one to Sachiko and took one for himself. Only then did she notice she was crying, too. They blew their noses and giggled.

“So,” he said, his voice stronger. “Isaac. Obviously, he wasn’t in the same way as grandpa, but it was obvious he was hanging on. I’d talked to him before, when he was lucid; he knew what Ydrel was doing, how he got caught up in his awful memories he was reliving. How he tried to save him from those memories. I think he was scared Ydrel might try to, I don’t know, follow him into death. I know: that’s ridiculous—”

“No. No, I understand what you mean. He got really caught up in those fantasies, like he was living what was in Isaac’s mind.”

Joshua smiled with relief. “Exactly. I didn’t want to mention that to anyone; they might think I’m buying into Ydrel being psychic or something. But also, I recognized the look Ydrel had. I’d seen it in my mom. I’d worn it. So I said what seemed needed to be said. But Isaac needed to hear Ydrel’s release, too. I tried to explain some of this to Ydrel, but I really didn’t want to get into everything with my grandpa there. I mean, I was a mess for months afterward, didn’t want to be near anyone older than my parents. My mom did Meals on Wheels—I’d scream whenever I had to go with her. I still can’t talk about it easily. Obviously.”

Now Sachiko set the book neatly on the floor and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” she whispered.

He sniffled and shivered. “Sachiko, I—”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“All right, then.” She pulled him back until they were again in their original position, reclined on the couch, her head nestled into his shoulder, his hand stroking her hair. “Finish your story.”

“Finish?”

“Yes. You were a mess, wouldn’t even feed old people!” she teased him lightly, then asked, “So what happened?”

“Confession, actually.”

“You told your dad what happened?”

“No, my First Confession. I told a priest. Man, I was scared. The only thing that made me go through with it was that I wouldn’t be able to explain to Mommarosa why I couldn’t get my First Communion. But the priest told me he couldn’t absolve me because I hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t kill my grandfather. I didn’t even make him die. I just gave a scared old man strength to complete the last journey God had for him. So I cried a little, and we prayed for Grandpa, and I confessed all my other bad behaviors, and in addition to the usual prayers of penance, he asked me to volunteer in a nursing home. It turned out to be very healing for me.”

“Did the priest ever tell your parents?”

He pulled back to give her a funny look. “This was
Confession
. Total confidentiality, remember? I’m not sure I’d have ever confessed again if he’d told my parents. And believe me, I’ve needed confession.”

“What? A good Catholic boy like you?”

“I wasn’t so good last year. I had a lot to confess before I left home this summer.”

“Because of LaTisha?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer, but he continued to caress her hair, so she knew he was thinking rather than being upset. Again, she waited silently, letting her fingers trace little circles and designs on his chest, listening only to his heartbeat. It was very comfortable, and she was even getting a little drowsy. She’d almost thought he wasn’t going to answer, when: “LaTisha was the catalyst, but not the cause. That’s what I’m trying to work out, I guess. But that’s another deep, emotional story and I’m tired of deep emotional stories! Next week is your turn!”

“No promises. Do you want me to go so you can get some sleep?”

He laid an arm around her waist before she could rise. “Who said anything about being sleepy?” he asked in a low voice that sent delicious shivers along her spine. She smiled up at him.

They kissed.

CHAPTER 26

When Roger barged into Ydrel’s room early Saturday morning, Ydrel was showered and dressed and sitting on his made bed, reading. “I assume His Majesty wishes to see me?” he asked in a dignified voice.

“Get moving,” Roger growled.

Ydrel rose without argument to precede him out the door. Again, his stomach was bothering him—something that was happening with increasing frequency—but he was not about to show any weakness in front of the orderly. As he passed through, he glanced at Roger. “There’s something different about you today. Are you sober?”

“Shut up!” But even though the orderly muttered obscenities under his breath, he did not, as he might have before, try to “accidentally” bump Ydrel into a door.

That would make Sachiko—and others on the staff—both happy and sad: happy, that Roger was no longer abusing patients; sad, that he didn’t get pushed over the edge and do something that would get him fired. Ydrel wondered if there was some way he could manage both until he got to Malachai’s office.

“Reporting as ordered, sir,” Ydrel smiled sarcastically as he sat, laced his hands behind his head and leaned back in the chair, studying the psychiatrist closely. He was in the usual pose: leaned back slightly yet with perfect posture in his oh-so-grand leather office chair, his elbows resting lightly on the arms and his hands steepled. He was pushed away from his desk and turned at an angle, so he didn’t fully face the desk, or the client across from it, yet his face was turned and tilted slightly. The perfect picture of caring professionalism. Still, Ydrel had seen and heard about little slips in his façade. Perhaps Roger wasn’t the only one being thrown off center by their “upstart young intern.”

Let’s see if we can keep him off-center
. “You know, it’s not healthy for you to be spending so much time here. You ought to find yourself a woman or something.”

“Thank you for your advice, but my concern is for you.”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested in women right now. Maybe when I’m out of here and in the real world.”

Now Malachai regarded him with a pitying smile. “I think we still have a great deal of work before you’re ready to be released.”

“So, that’s why you’re here? Got a deadline, Dolfus?” He emphasized Malachai’s much-hated given name, and the pseudonym under which he wrote about Ydrel for the psychic phenomena magazines. “I don’t have any new tricks for you. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve had a rough week.”

“I would think after your ‘session’ with Joshua, you would have a great deal to share. I’ve reviewed his summary tape; the use of ley lines in particular is quite interesting. Tell me: are you able to tap into their power as you’ve implied?”

“You don’t find it ironic that on the one hand, you’re pressuring me to perform tricks like some psychic monkey, and on the other, you’re trying to disabuse me of the notion I’m psychic?”

Malachai got up from his chair and went to sit down on the coffee table in front of Ydrel. He leaned forward intently. “Can it be you’ve misunderstood me all these years? I have always believed you have paranormal abilities. Have we not tried to study them in order that you can better control them? I’m actually pleased young Joshua has been able to help you, although it’s a blow to my pride that I did not come up with such simple, obvious ideas as his. But you still hold delusions and attitudes that keep you within these grounds.”

It had been years since Malachai had crossed the barrier between him and Ydrel that the desk represented. Suddenly, the young client found himself off balance. He sat up cross-legged in the chair and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. “Like what?” he asked guardedly.

“These visitors that call you from consciousness, for one.”

Visitors?
“It was Joshua that taught me how to deal with Tasmae when you couldn’t.”

Again, that compassionate, pitying smile. “Ydrel, Joshua has a one-size-fits-all philosophy of psychiatry that, while naïve, is effective in certain cases. He doesn’t truly believe you are psychic, but he lets you pretend it’s the source of all your troubles; that’s why his methods work as well on Tasmae as on real people.

“Now, I know you have paranormal abilities. I have pushed you to explore those abilities; sometimes, as this week, I’ve pushed too far. I underestimated Mr. McDougal’s psychosis and overestimated your ability to defend yourself. I am sorry. Yet, perhaps this turned out to be a good thing? After all, it gave Joshua a chance to teach you some new and better techniques—from fantasy novels, I presume?”

Despite himself, Ydrel nodded.

“But that’s the key, isn’t it, Ydrel? Fantasy. Joshua believes in your psychic abilities no more than he believes in Doleson’s aliens.”

“Does it matter? If it’s working, who cares whether he believes or not?” Yet the ache in his heart told Ydrel the truth—he cared.

Malachai looked down and sighed. “Ydrel. Ydrel, it does matter. Joshua’s ‘objectivity’ isn’t objective at all, because it’s ignoring the root causes of your troubles, even how your past is influencing you. It doesn’t matter to him, because he sees what he’s doing as working. It’s very mechanical; in essence he’s an engineer, tinkering to make his project function as best it can.

“But I know you. And I know the fact of some of your abilities, like your ability to receive and internalize other’s thoughts and emotions. But I also know your emotions. You’ve been very lonely here, very isolated. It’s no secret; that’s one of the reasons we brought Joshua here. But before that, hasn’t your Tasmae filled that need?”

“What? All she did was call me away and demand information! There was no friendship. Besides, I didn’t ask for her. She called
me
. You think I’ve enjoyed playing oracle?” Ydrel almost stood up, he was so suddenly angry, yet Dr. Malachai stayed as he was, sitting quietly on the table edge.

“But you were doing a valuable service. You were needed. And let’s think about this rationally: She is an otherworld creature with incredible powers to contact minds across time and space. Why would she call upon a teenage boy for military information?”

He sank back into the chair. “She didn’t know what I was,” he whispered. “She said God brought us together.”
Yes, God. Go ahead; smile that patronizing smile.

But he didn’t. “And you moved heaven and earth to fulfill what you perceived as your duty, let yourself be called away, even at awkward moments…Have you noticed how that pattern has changed since Joshua’s arrival?”

“He told me to how get her to ask permission first!”

“I know. And have you found at times you’re able to refuse—or maybe not even hear her call?” He didn’t wait for Ydrel’s reply; Ydrel supposed the sullen look on his face was answer enough. “More and more your attention has been focused on your new friendship, and you’ve had less and less need for your Tasmae. She’s beginning to fade; with some work, we may be able to rid you of her forever. But you need to understand that she is, indeed, an illusion. And in the meantime, we need to investigate what true abilities you do possess. This is even more important now that you’ve discovered how to tap into power outside yourself. Think about how just your receptive abilities, uncontrolled, have hurt you. What could another ability, like telekinesis, do to someone else?”

Ydrel already knew what his abilities could do. He shuddered, and wrapped his arms around his knees. He could feel Dr. Malachai looking at him intently. He didn’t meet his gaze. Could Malachai be right? Was Tasmae really just an illusion, a way for him to feel needed? Then, what about the Master—was he just an illusion he could get rid of?

“Ydrel?”

Did he want Tasmae to be a delusion—even if it meant being free of the Master?

“Ydrel, what do you say?”

—I need time. I need to think.
“But I don’t have anything for you,” he whined miserably. “I spent a day manic, then I was attacked, and I went catatonic and then Isaac died, and, and—” The tears he hadn’t been able to shed now came flowing to the surface. He buried his head into his knees. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He tried not to flinch.

“Why don’t you just tell me about these ley lines you’ve found? Then you can spend the next few days privately trying to focus this new power. Tuesday, we’ll see what you can do.”

_*

Sachiko awoke Saturday morning to the tantalizing smells of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. The sizzling of the bacon made a soothing counterpoint to the whirr of the fans. Drowsily, she rolled over.

Then she realized she was still on Joshua’s couch. The couch he used for a bed.

She sat up suddenly, pulling the thin cover up to her chest, her face burning with embarrassment. Then, as she awoke more fully, she felt a different sort of embarrassment as she realized she was still fully clothed. Nothing had happened last night except that she’d fallen asleep. She rubbed her cheeks, glad her back was to the kitchen. When she thought her face was back to its normal color, she turned around. Joshua was at the stove, his back to her. He had on clean shorts and a t-shirt, and looked like he’d already had a shower. “What time is it?” she asked.

He turned and smiled. “Good morning. It’s about 10:00. I was just about to wake you. I’ve got breakfast ready.” He tilted the pan so she could see the scrambled eggs before he put them into a platter next to the cooked bacon. “How do you like your coffee?”

“Cream and sugar. I’ll fix it. Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” She stood up and stretched. In the middle of the stretch, she caught a glance of him staring at her. He had a funny kind of smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing, really.” At her glare, he rolled his eyes and went to fetch the coffee. “All right. I was just admiring how beautiful you look, but I know that’s cliché—”

“You’re right. And you didn’t answer my question.” She sat down and loaded up her plate as he poured her coffee. She placed a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. He took a seat on the next side of the table and started into his own breakfast. “Well?”

“I woke up early, and you didn’t even move when I got up. You just looked so sweet sleeping there, I didn’t have the heart to wake you, so I left you a note and went to work on the garden some while it was still cool out. When you didn’t notice that I’d left, or when I returned, I went ahead and showered and started breakfast. I figured you needed the sleep.”

She did feel rested, but that didn’t quell her annoyance. “Well, we’re still way behind schedule, especially if we’re going to Newport today. It’s going to take me an hour just to drive home and shower.”

“So shower here. I’ll be good; I’ll even go work on the garden some more and you can lock the door if that’d make you more comfortable.”

“And what am I going to wear? This is the only clean outfit I’ve got, and it’s wrinkled. So are my jeans and t-shirt. What would my parents think?”

“You could spritz them and toss them in the dryer for a few minutes. That’ll take the wrinkles out.”

“Do you have an answer for everything?”

“Matter of fact.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but grin back.

He did go to work on the garden some more while she showered, though she’d told him it wasn’t necessary to leave. She even took his advice about the dryer, and in half an hour she was clean and dressed. She took one of her books to the garden to read. She had seen the old swing under the maple tree in part of the cleared area, so she studied while he worked, looking up on occasion to remark on something she’d read or to admire the way his muscles moved as he pulled weeds and trimmed back plants grown wild. He had his shirt off and his dark skin glistened with sweat. “You’re going to need another shower by the time you’re done,” she commented.

He grinned impishly at her. “Will I have to lock you out of my house?”

She pulled herself up into a dignified pose. “I am a nurse,” she said loftily. “I’m sure you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

He just smiled slyly and did a slow arm curl. “It’s not what you have; it’s how you package it.”

“Oh, please!” She shut her book and stood. “I’m going in. It’s hot out here.”

“Thank you.”

“The weather, you loon!” But she had to admit to herself that at least part of the heat she felt had little to do with the sun. It took her awhile once she got in to turn her mind back to internal anatomy and surgical procedures. She was just really getting into the chapter on Cesarean Sections, acting it out while she visualized the procedure and said each step aloud when Joshua came in. Even though he’d been the one to teach her to review that way, she stopped, a little embarrassed. He didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re right. It’s too hot out there. Want me to drill you?”

She glanced at her book. “Actually, I’m doing pretty good with the visualizing; I’m really remembering a lot that way. But you have to promise not to watch me—it’s too embarrassing, know what I mean?”

“OK. I’m going to grab a shower now. What should I wear to meet your parents?”

“Change into whatever for now. If we’re taking Dragonfly, you’ll need to change into jeans, anyway. No one rides my bike without helmets and leg coverings. Got to protect that packaging, after all.”

“I love the way your mind works.” He laughed and leaned over to kiss her. He smelled like sweat and earth and green growing things. She set one hand on his bare chest as the kiss deepened.

Oh, I could get used to this…
“Go clean up!” She gave him a playful shove.

_*

Ten minutes later, he flopped onto the couch next to her, clean and dressed in a muscle shirt and cut-off jeans shorts, and sporting a new earring. This one had a silver triangle set into a gold circle with a small diamond at its top point. Sachiko did a double take. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Vulcan IDIC. I can change it if you think it’d bother your parents…”

“Are you kidding? My dad may be retired Navy, but he’s a big-time Trekker. Question is: does your mom know about it?”

He laughed. “My mom bought it for me. I’m going to take my laptop to the table and check e-mail while I eat. Want something?”