Mind Over Mind (28 page)

CHAPTER 32

 “Earth to Sachiko!” Monique waved her hand in front of the computer screen to pull Sachiko’s eyes away from it. “C’mon, girl, can that log actually be that interesting?”

“I’m just trying to catch up on the weekend,” she replied evenly.

“Me, too. So I’ll ask again: Did you do anything?”

“Almost.” Almost got drunk. Almost started a bar fight. Almost called Joshua a dozen times. She’d finally called Liz for advice.

“He says he loves you,” Liz had said. “He wants to wait, he wants to ‘do it right’? Not to mention he’s sweet, smart and drop-dead gorgeous! What? Are you out of your mind or something?”

Maybe she was. She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore, it seemed.

She sighed.

“Oh, oh.” Monique sat down next to her. “How’d you do on your test?”

“Ninety-eight,” she replied listlessly.

“Oh. So you broke it off, then, huh?”

“Broke what off?” Joshua’s voice interrupted, making Sachiko jump. Why wasn’t he with Ydrel? Why did he have to show up now?

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Last time I checked, I still worked here.” He tried to reply blandly, but irritation crept into his voice.

Monique jumped in. “If you’d actually been reading those logs, you’d have seen Joshua has done the impossible. He got Ydrel to drop that alien fantasy of his.”

Joshua looked pained. “I didn’t do anything. He—”

But Monique continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “And don’t mind Sachiko. She broke up with her boyfriend. He couldn’t take the heat of her success.”

“What?!” He stared at Sachiko, open mouthed and wide-eyed.

Sachiko huffed, her annoyance building toward anger. “She’s guessing. Erroneously!”

“Then tell us,” Monique urged. “We’re your friends.”

“Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but there’s nothing to discuss. It’s just…Congratulations on Ydrel—Deryl.” She broke off before she said anything more and turned her attention to the open log on the computer screen. She hadn’t known. She’d been so caught up in her own misery, she hadn’t even visited Ydrel in the hospital. How had she let this...this kid, get to her?

“Yep,” Joshua said knowingly.

Despite herself, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

He had his arms crossed, and his lips pursed in a thoughtful way. He nodded. “Men are scum,” he said with such mock seriousness that she had to bite back a smile.

Monique snorted. “How would you know?”

Now he stood hipshot and batted his eyes at the nurse. “Oh, girlfriend, I have so been there!” As Monique exploded into giggles, he leaned across the counter and spoke softly to Sachiko. “Are you sure it wasn’t just a misunderstanding? Maybe he’s sad and confused and really wants another chance?”

She wanted to tell him she was sorry. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. She wanted to tell him. Everything.

“Don’t you have work to do?” she growled.

His expression hardened into anger and hurt. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care.

“Matter of fact,” he muttered, then turned his attention and smiles to Monique. “I really came here to find out where Mr. Doleson is. I haven’t seen him and his room’s empty.”

“Didn’t Dr. Hoffman tell you? That’s right—he had to take his daughter to the dentist today. Mr. Doleson was released this morning. Outpatient status. His wife came up over the weekend and they were talking about moving to California and starting over. He wants to produce a new talk show, like Geraldo, but with only positive things—people married for 50 years, kids who do charities, that sort of stuff. He was talking about it all last week. In fact, I think he left you something.” She rifled through the papers on the desk until she found a large envelope. “Dr. Hoffman didn’t think you’d be here until this evening, so he left it with us.”

“Dr. Sellars is with Deryl over lunch.” Joshua tore open the envelope.

As he stood silently reading, Sachiko made her escape.

_*

“Whoa,” Joshua breathed as he looked over the note Mr. Doleson left. The card read “Thank you” in gold foil. Inside was a handwritten note:
Joshua, I’m going to do like we discussed and forget about them watching and just do my best to show them the best in humanity. Thanks for putting things into perspective—that’s what I plan to call my new show: Perspectives.

For moment, Joshua couldn’t speak. When he did, his voice was choked with emotion. “That’s…way cool.” He smiled at Monique, then turned to share his joy with Sachiko.

She was gone.

Monique sighed at the empty chair. “I hope she makes up with this guy. Fast.”

“Me, too.”

_*

Deryl’s infection cleared quickly, and it was decided he could return to SK-Mental. He was moved while under sedation, and Edith asked Joshua to be with him when he awoke in his old bed.

“Was it a dream?” Deryl murmured thickly, looking around at the familiar surroundings.

“No. It was all real.”

Deryl rolled over and defiantly snatched the raggedy old bear from its spot on the end table, clutching it to him. He remained that way the rest of the day, and into the next.

Naturally, he was on the agenda at Friday’s meeting.

“I attempted to talk to him.” Edith sighed. “All he would say was that he felt like a zoo animal.”

Good for you,
Joshua thought, taking a sip of his latte to hide his grin. But he nearly choked on it when Dr. Malachai grunted and asked, “Then, we’re seeing a return of the paranoia?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Edith admitted. “Zoo animals are under constant display. I was thinking of the paradox of being in a place of relative safety and relative confinement—it’s not the first time he’s referred to this facility as a cage.”

“Which animal?” Dr. Bartlebort asked. “It could be a statement of his feelings of power—or lack thereof—“

“Or it could just be an accurate statement of how he’s been treated,” Joshua cut in. Part of his mind advised him to quit while he still had a job, but his mouth didn’t take the hint. “Think about it: How do you transfer a zoo animal? You catch him unawares, tranquilize him, and next thing he knows, he’s waking up in a new place. Sound familiar?”

“We thought it would be easier on him—” Edith started.

Joshua raised his hands in defense and answered as gently as he could. “I’m not making any comment about the motives.” Then he turned to Malachai. “I’m just an intern. But don’t you think that there are times when a patient’s words have objective validity?”

“More NLP?” the senior psychiatrist asked languidly, and Joshua knew he was in for it even before he heard what came next. “I think this is something we can discuss further—after the meeting, of course.”

Joshua left Dr. Malachai’s office later with his ears burning. He was unsure who he was angrier at: Malachai, Deryl, or himself. He’d put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into his plan to win back Sachiko: Rique had not only refused to help him, but had chewed him out and threatened to kick him out of the band; his parents had said they’d support his decision, but suggested that it could mean living at home and working at Carls Jr. next year; he was tired from staying up late working on the music and emotionally drained from trying to act normal around Sachiko at work, which was even tougher since she was working double shifts to pay back the nurses who’d covered for her while she studied for her exam. It didn’t help that Edith had taken his comments, which he really intended for Malachai—the one who arranged the whole transfer farce—to heart.

Must be why Malachai likes her so much as a partner,
he grumbled to himself as he headed to Deryl’s room.
Let him fire me
, he thought defiantly
. As long as they don’t take away my key until Saturday.
He paused at Deryl’s door to release his tension and negative feelings, then went in.

The room was dark, so he made a beeline to the curtains, pulling them open with a single sharp movement. “Wake up, Ling-Ling!”

“What?” Deryl growled, squinting at the intern. He was curled up in bed, his hair stringy and unkempt, his arms curled around his stuffed bear.

“Wake up, Ling-Ling. You know, that famous panda at the San Diego Zoo or somewhere?” Rather than pulling up a chair, he grabbed a pillow off Deryl’s bed and set it on the floor so he could sit at eye level with him. “You have any idea how spun up everyone is over your ‘zoo animal’ statement?”

“Oh?” A smile tugged at the young man’s lips.

Suddenly, Joshua understood. And something in him snapped.

“You little—” He bit off the words that were coming to his mouth. “I nearly got fired for defending you this morning and you were just playing head games with the psychs?”

“What else have I got to do?” Deryl demanded sullenly.

“You know, this song is getting really, really old. ‘Boo-hoo. Poor me. I have a filthy-rich aunt and uncle who love me, people who care for me—and even some who care about me. I have three full meals a day, plenty of entertainment, safety, security—’”

“Imprisonment!”

“You ever seen a real prison? I have. For that matter, I’m willing to bet a third of the population of earth would be willing to trade your pampered imprisonment for their impoverished freedom.”

“Fine! They can have it!” Deryl sat up.

Joshua stood. “Fine! Get better and make a space available!”

“Go to hell!”

“I can’t. But let me tell you: Life stinks, but it don’t get any better if you lie around with your head under the covers. Now, I’ll admit, you’ve been handed a bigger share of crap than a lot of people, but you also sabotage yourself.”

“Who asked you?!” Now Deryl was standing on the bed, clutching the bear so tightly in his fury that the seams were threatening to pop. Around him, the air seemed to thicken and intensify as if with static electricity.

Joshua, caught in his own fury, barely noticed. “No one. This is free advice from a lowly intern. You made a lot of progress this summer—I’m not the only one who’s said that, either. But your little sulk has set you back. If you want to get out of here, you’d better stop thinking like Ling-Ling and start acting like Shamu!”

He stormed out, making a turn just as Descartes flew through the doorway and slammed into the wall.

Joshua, meanwhile, almost slammed into Sachiko.

“What was that all about?” she demanded.

“I think your father would call it ‘wall-to-wall counseling,’” Joshua snapped, and shouldered past her, not bothering to see if she was looking after him.

She did, in fact, turn to watch him storm down the hall, her arms crossed, not sure if she was miffed or bemused. “Wall-to-wall counseling?” Where’d he learn that military euphemism?

Neither of them saw Deryl’s old toy slide, as if pulled by invisible strings, across the hall and back into Deryl’s room.

CHAPTER 33

When Joshua was stopped at the foyer Friday morning, he was sure the security guard was going to hand him his walking papers and a box of his stuff, but the guard simply wanted to inspect the items he was carrying in. He opened the synthesizer case and scrutinized the keyboard, then unzipped the garment bag to reveal Joshua’s change of clothes—the same suit he’d worn to Sachiko’s party, professionally laundered and pressed.

“New therapy?” the guard asked, raising an eyebrow at the bouquet of flowers. They were oriental lilies again, with a few roses tucked in.

“If you’re around at six tonight, stop by the first level nurse’s lounge,” Joshua said, but inwardly he groaned. His unusual methods were starting to become a source of merriment with the psychiatric staff. Or had the guard heard about his argument with Deryl yesterday? “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody about this—it’s kind of a surprise.”

“Mmm-hmm,” the guard replied. He gave Joshua a minute to juggle his other luggage, then handed back the bouquet. “Good luck.”

Floyd met him just in the lobby with a cart covered by a sheet, under which they hid everything but the suit. As Floyd wheeled it away to a safe place, Josh headed to the locker room. There, he stored the suit in his locker, pausing only to smile wryly at the poster taped inside the locker door—a photoshopped picture of Joshua in a mind-meld with Mr. Spock from the old Star Trek. In large, 50’s-movie lettering, it read, “Joshua Lawson—Psychic Psychiatrist!” At the bottom was the caption, “I feel your pain.” He was pretty sure Dr. Hoffman had made it and taped it to his locker. For a day, Joshua had left it up, with an addition of his own: a sticky note saying, “I Want to Know What You’re Thinking,” but now it resided inside his locker door. He thought about putting it back out with a new caption, but he didn’t have the will.

Sometime today, he would have to talk with Deryl. He was looking as forward to that about as much as he was looking forward to seeing Sachiko before six.

The day, however, turned out surprisingly good. He worked on case studies—he suspected Malachai was loading them on him to keep him away from live patients—until Floyd knocked on his door.

“Edith is looking for you.”

He gathered up his papers and headed to her office, not knowing what to expect. When he opened the door and saw Deryl’s aunt and uncle seated on her couch, he stopped dead in his tracks. Kate, Deryl’s aunt, looked like she’d been crying.

“What did you do to our nephew?” Douglas asked.

He couldn’t help himself; he glanced at the clock. Seven hours.
Please, oh please, God, let them let me finish the day.
“I’m sorry. I—I lost my temper. It was unprofessional of me, I know, I just, I really—“

 Kate stood suddenly and threw her arms around him, cutting off any further reply. “You dear, you angel,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.

He threw a confused look to Edith, saw her biting a back a smile at his chagrin. “You haven’t seen him today, have you?” she asked.

“Uh, no.” He disentangled himself from Deryl’s aunt, who apologized, murmuring something about pregnancy hormones. “He’s OK? I’m not fired?” The last slipped out before he could stop himself.

“Go see for yourself. But if you ever yell at a patient again, you will find yourself using your psychiatric skills to convince people to ‘Biggie Size’ their order.” Her smile belied her stern threat, and he paused only long enough to drop off his file and shake Douglas’ hand before heading back down the hall to Deryl’s room.

The door was slightly ajar. On the doorknob was a long, hanging sign:
Mad genius at work—Enter at your own risk
. He peeked at the other side:
Do Not Disturb—I’m disturbed enough already
! He recognized it as one of the gifts Clarissa had given Deryl at the hospital, passed to him via a nurse and with the approval of Edith and his uncle and aunt. He pushed open the door and again stopped in his tracks.

The room wasn’t just clean; it was immaculate. Even the posters gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the open window. The bed was neatly made, with the bear sitting defiantly in the middle of the evenly placed pillows. Stuff had been rearranged on the shelves; the books on military tactics and history were gone, replaced by the schoolbooks and paperbacks Joshua had lent him, as well as the first Harry Potter book.
Clarissa’s doing?
Joshua thought.
I wonder if Deryl’s got Malachai pegged as Snape or Voldemort?
Deryl sat at the desk, dressed in a clean shirt tucked into jeans, his hair shining and combed and gathered into a leather tie-back—yet another gift from his new friend. He was writing steadily, but turned when he heard Joshua enter.

“’Bout time,” he greeted the intern. “Did you have a nice morning hiding in that cubby hole you’re calling an office?”

Joshua had long since given up asking how he knew these things. “It works.” He did his best to sound casual, as if the sudden change was nothing unexpected.

Deryl rolled his eyes. “Do I need to add references on this report? I’m not sure I learned how.”

“We’ll hit that next time. It’s really just a matter of form.” He realized he still hadn’t fully entered the room, but Deryl saved him the trouble by getting up and stretching, though gingerly, in deference to his stitches.

“Want to go for a walk? I’m getting tired of sitting around.”

Outside in the commons, away from monitoring devices or prying ears, Deryl confessed, “I don’t know whether to be angry at you or thank you.”

“Let’s just forget it, then. It’s been a rough week for both of us. So you’ve decided to Sha-mooze the staff?”

Deryl gave him a sour look. “And I’m the one who’s locked up.” He sighed. “You were right. If I want to get out of here, I have to do it by the book. Speaking of which—or, thinking of which, in this case—he’s Snape; I’ve got someone more vicious in mind for Voldemort.” Then he laughed at his own private joke. “So, you ready for tonight?”

Now Joshua sighed, a gusty release of nervous energy. “Yeah. As long as my voice doesn’t crack and she doesn’t throw flowers in my face, I should be fine. You going to be there?”

“In the background. I don’t want anyone distracted by the presence of a patient.” For the first time, he set a reassuring hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. She loves you. She’s just afraid to admit it. Oh—but get her a cappuccino. She’ll need it.”

_*

Sachiko glanced at the clock opposite the nurses’ station and stifled a groan. Almost 6:00.
Two hours to go
. She stretched to relieve the tightness in her neck. Thank heavens Jared was coming to relieve her early tonight. She needed sleep. The last time she’d worked double shifts was as an ER nurse, where the constant emergencies kept her awake and active while on duty, and able to crash hard once she got to bed. The more sedate schedule here just seemed to drain her, yet left her too keyed up to get to sleep when she got home.

It’s not just that, and you know it
, she growled to herself. She’d lain in bed looking at her phone, aching to call and apologize but not knowing how or what to say; begging for it to ring and for Joshua’s voice to be on the other end. After that one subtle attempt to get her to open up at work, he’d pretty much stayed away from her. When he did speak to her, he was cool, professional, and always in the company of others.

S
erves you right. “Let’s keep our relationship out of the workplace.” We know where we got that crap, don’t we?
She rubbed her eyes until the tears that threatened to surface subsided.

“You gonna make it?” Monique asked lightly.

“No.” Sachiko heaved herself to her feet. “I’m going down to the cafeteria.”

“You can’t!” Monique’s voice held panic. She didn’t look at Sachiko so much as past her and down the hall.

“Monique, I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. I’m tired, I’m achy, and I’ve had a rotten week. All I want to do is stretch my legs and get a—”

“Cappuccino?” concluded a warm voice behind her. She spun and caught her breath.

There was Joshua, dressed as he had been for her party—the night of their first kiss—right down to the earring. He leaned against the counter, and there was no mistaking the gorgeous, come-on look in his eyes. In one hand he held a Styrofoam cup. Her peripheral vision picked up Floyd behind him with a covered cart, and others nearby, but for a moment her mind didn’t take them in.

“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact. Thanks.” She reached for it, but he pulled it away teasingly. Then, with a courtly gesture, he invited her to sit in the chair they’d wheeled out of the conference room—the big comfortable one she’d joked was the real reason Dr. Malachai hosted long meetings.

He was so close to her, smiling in a way that made her insides melt. She wanted to run. She wanted to drive him away with some cutting remark. She wanted to throw her arms around him. She didn’t move. He waited, his eyes locked on hers. About twenty people had gathered.

“Please?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”

She squared her shoulders, brushed back a stray lock of hair from her face, and took the drink. With as much dignity as she could muster, she sat in the proffered chair. Floyd had set a small table beside it for her coffee, and she set it there after a large swallow. As she did, Joshua pressed a button on his synthesizer and a romantic, upbeat tune she didn’t recognize began playing. He took a bouquet of flowers off the cart and leaned in close to place them in her arms.

“Careful of the roses,” he said in a soft voice meant only for her. “They have thorns.” Then he backed up and began to sing, a song she hadn’t heard before.

_*

When Dr. Malachai saw people heading toward the nurses’ station, he dismissed it as coincidence. Surely if anything important were happening, he’d have been informed. Then he heard the music and Joshua’s singing and, with a practiced gait that took him at almost a run without making him seem in a hurry, headed over to see—and stop—the young man’s shenanigans. He’d gotten just close enough to see the backs of the crowd and make out Joshua’s words, when Deryl suddenly appeared, blocking his way.

Barely acknowledging the client, he stepped to the left.

Deryl followed, again blocking him.

He stepped right. So did Deryl.

“You owe her,” the young man said clearly and slowly, his tone hinting at hidden knowledge and open resolve.

Dr. Malachai gave Deryl a smile, which the boy mocked. With a bland expression, gritting his teeth, he stayed still and silent.

_*

At first, Sachiko thought Joshua was just apologizing, singing about how some player had broken her heart and that he’d once been a player, too; but then, he started in about how he found the other part of his soul in her eyes, and that he loved her. As she sat there, torn in her own conflicting desires, he knelt on one knee, pressed a small box into her hand and sang,

I don’t want a passing romance, gone as summer went

I want a lifetime’s love, I want a holy covenant

I’ll give you my moments, my days, my ‘till death do us part

Roses should have thorns, but I promise through the years

Whenever you feel pain, I’ll kiss away your tears

If you’d

Trust my heart

Believe my words

A love like ours could rock this world

It’s a scary road to ride on, but the place to start

Is to trust my words

Believe my heart

Believe my words

Trust your heart

He stopped singing and she just stared at him. She knew she looked like an idiot, but she couldn’t make herself move, make herself believe this, this…wonder…was happening. The music came to a close. She could hear people shifting restlessly. Still, she didn’t move.

He smiled a timid smile and squeezed her hand over the box. “Just think about it,” he said, giving her an out. “I’ll be in the break room.” He got up, took three steps back as if she were royalty, then turned and strode down the hall. Floyd followed, rolling the cart that held the synthesizer.

As soon as they rounded the corner, it was as if a spell had been broken. Sachiko was able to breathe again, and everyone crowded around her. She ignored them, staring at the little burgundy box in her hands until Edith ordered everyone to give her room. “Do you want to go to my office alone for a few minutes?” she offered.

“No, no, I just...” Her voice trailed off. She was still staring at the box.

“Well, open it!” Monique urged.

When she saw the simple, battered but shined silver band inside, threaded through a silver chain, every wall of ice she’d erected melted at once, crashing down like an iceberg in the warmth of spring. Someone behind her said, “I don’t get it.”

“It’s his great-great-grandfather’s ring.” Somehow, she managed not to choke on the words. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she couldn’t understand why she didn’t just break down crying. Or why she didn’t want to.

Edith laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped as if shocked. “I have to go talk to him,” Sachiko said, and hurried down the hall.

_*

As soon as he got to the break room, Joshua gave up all pretenses of composure and made a beeline for the soda machine.
God, oh, God, please don’t let me have made a fool of myself for nothing.
The image of her face haunted him. He’d imagined a lot of reactions over the last week, from her throwing her arms around him in joy, to throwing the flowers, ring and all at him in fury, but he hadn’t anticipated the way she just stared at him like he’d grown another head.
Please, if nothing else, let her understand
.

He didn’t realize how his hands were shaking until his third unsuccessful try at shoving a dollar into the slot. Floyd carefully took the bill, pulled it straight and inserted it into the machine. He hit the button and even popped the tab before handing Joshua his Diet Coke. Joshua tried to smile his thanks, but his desperation must have been showing—the older orderly laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s goin’ to be all right. You were righteous. She was just surprised.”