I Know This Much Is True (23 page)

“I’ll calm down once this runaround’s over with. All you need to do is get ahold of his doctor. Dr. Willis Ehlers. He’ll verify that my brother doesn’t belong here. That this is someone’s screwup and he belongs over at Settle.”

She shook her head. “Ehlers isn’t his doctor anymore, Dominick.

They’ve reassigned him.”

“
Who’s
reassigned him?”

She flipped through his papers. “Looks like it floated down from the gods. The state commissioner’s office in Hartford.”

She slid some papers across the desk, tapped her finger at some I Know[116-168] 7/24/02 12:30 PM Page 147

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honcho’s signature. “Why from Hartford?” I said. “What’s Hartford got to do with it?”

“I can’t say for sure. Don’t quote me on this, but my guess is that your brother’s a political appointee.”

“What’s that mean?”

She looked up at the ceiling. Puffed out her cheeks. “Shut up, Sheffer,” she advised herself.

“No,” I said. “Come on. Tell me.”

“I don’t know for sure, okay?” she said. “I haven’t
heard
anything, through the grapevine
or
officially, so this is strictly theory, okay?

But usually when Hartford gets involved in something like this, it’s about damage control. We’re fairly autonomous out here otherwise.

My guess is that it’s Jimmy Lane fallout. I’m not 100 percent positive, but I’m pretty sure. But like I said, don’t quote me.”

I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.

“It’s not all bad news, though,” she said. “His new psychiatrist is Dr. Chase—it could be worse—and his psychologist is Dr. Patel, which is
very
cool. I have a lot of respect for—”

“His doctor is Dr.
Ehlers,
” I said. “Ehlers has been treating my brother for the past four years—successfully, for the most part.”

“Successfully?” she said. “He cut off his hand, Domenico.”

“Because he stopped taking his medication, that’s why,” I snapped.

I wasn’t taking any crap from this scrawny little—. “Okay, maybe Ehlers
should
have been on top of it. But I should have been, too. We
all
missed it. We were
all
asleep at the wheel.”

“This is none of my business,” she said. “But I can see already that you take an awful lot of this on yourself. Compared to most patients’ siblings, I mean. What is that, a twin thing?”

“Never mind about me,” I said. “All I’m saying is that Ehlers has been better than most of them—has been consistent, anyway.

Thomas feels safe with him. Comfortable. So I don’t
care
what anyone in Hartford wants. Just have this Dr. Chase or this Dr. . . . ?”

“Dr. Patel.”

“Have this Dr. Patel guy call up Ehlers so that I can get him out of here.”

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“Dr. Patel’s a woman,” she said.

I closed my eyes. “Okay, fine, whatever,” I said. “That’s irrelevant.”

“I’m just telling you. She’s Indian. Indian Indian, not American Indian.”

I slapped my hand down on her desk. “Hey, what is it with this place?” I said. “Why doesn’t anyone listen? It’s a
mistake.
I don’t give a rat’s ass if Dr. Patel is from Mars or if she’s a man or a woman or a friggin’ three-headed extraterrestrial, okay? My brother’s getting stuck down at this sinkhole is someone’s stupid bureaucratic
mistake.
”

She cocked her head just like that wooden bird on her desk.

“Mistake how, Domenico?” she said. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“Because he
always
goes to Settle after an episode. He’s practically a
fixture
over there. He has a part-time
job
there.”

She sat there, mute. Waiting.

“And because . . .”

“Yeah? Because what?”

“Because right about now he must be scared out of his mind, okay?

Look, the guy has no defenses. Zip. Zero. And it’s not a ‘twin thing.’

It’s . . . I’ve just
always
had to run interference for Thomas, okay?

Putting him in this place is like throwing a rabbit in with the wolves.”

She took a deep breath—let it out slowly, audibly. “Coffee and newspapers, right?”

“What?”

“His job? He was telling me about it. We talked for over an hour last night.”

“
Listen
to me,” I said.

“Oh, I’m listening. It sounds like I’m listening to myself talk, actually. My
old
self.”

“What’s
that
supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Personal observation, that’s all. It’s irrelevant.” I just sat there, trying to figure out what the fuck she was talking about.“I was in a nine-year relationship with a substance abuser, that’s all. So I know all about running interference. Being someone else’s main line of defense. I call it the Don Quixote complex. Makes you feel noble to I Know[116-168] 7/24/02 12:30 PM Page 149

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defend the defenseless. Plus, it’s a great avoidance tactic. You don’t have to deal with your own stuff, right? But, listen, I’m way over the line here.

I just thought I recognized a fellow Quixote, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the free psychoanalysis,” I said. “But this is about my brother, not me. Or
you.
”

“Ouch,” she said. “Fair enough. Really—I’m sorry. Let me give it to you straight,
paisano.
They’ve placed your brother in a forensic hospital because he’s seriously mentally ill
and
because he’s committed a serious crime.”

“What crime? What’d he do? Interrupt a couple of old ladies during their afternoon reading? Get a little blood on the library rug?

Look, I know what he did was bizarre. He gets totally fucked up when he’s not taking his medication. I’m not saying otherwise. But what ‘serious crime’ did he commit?”

“Carrying a dangerous weapon.”

“He wasn’t . . . he used it on
himself
!”

“Well,” she shrugged. “He counts. Right?”

We sat there, staring at each other—two gunslingers, each waiting for the other to make a move. “He gets . . . he gets these religious delusions,” I said. “Thinks God’s handpicked him to save the world. . . . Hey, he’s got
your
politics. Feels the same way you do about this Persian Gulf thing. . . . He wanted to
do
something—make some sort of big sacrifice that would wake up Saddam Hussein and Bush. He says God directed him through the Bible.

. . . He’s nuts, okay? He’s
not
a criminal.”

“And here’s another way of looking at it,” she said. “He was brandishing a knife in a public building. He needs to be locked up so that decent people can walk the streets.”

“Brandishing? What do you mean,
brandishing
?”

Her hands flew into the air, palms outward. “Don’t get defensive,
paisano.
I’m just playing devil’s advocate here. I’m Mr. and Mrs.

John Q. Public, reading about what happened in the paper. You see what I’m saying?”

“But he wasn’t
brandishing
it. He wasn’t threatening anybody. He I Know[116-168] 7/24/02 12:30 PM Page 150

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was sitting in a study carrel, minding his own business. Look, I know the guy. I know him better than anyone.
I’m
probably more dangerous than he is.”

She smiled. “Look. You know what your problem is? Can you calm down a minute and listen to something? You’re making the assumption that this is the worst place in the world for him to be and that’s not necessarily the case. And at any rate, there’s nothing you can do about it, anyway. You’re just going to have to take a leap of faith.”

I sucked in a couple of deep breaths. Took a ten-second time-out. “You’re a real company gal, aren’t you?” I said.

She laughed so hard, she snorted. “I’ve been called a lot of things down here, Domenico, but never—”

“You are, though. You don’t look the part, but you’re walking the walk, talking the talk. You spout the party line just like the rest of them.”

She shook her head. Kept smiling. “Now there’s a low blow,” she said.

“Hey, look—”

“No,
you
hey look. Let
me
have the floor for half a second. In the first place,
paisano,
I’m a woman, not a gal. Okay? If we’re going to be working together on this, you’re going to have to remember that distinction. ‘Gal’ sounds like someone’s horse, which I’m not. All right?

And in the second place—”

“Who’s your supervisor?” I said.

She smiled, skimmed her hand across the top of her crewcut.

“Why do you want to talk to my supervisor?”

“Because if I have to get someone with a little authority to pick up the phone and call his goddamned doctor, then that’s what I have to do. I want him out of here
today.
”

Her face remained unperturbed. “My supervisor is Dr. Barry Farber.”

“And where’s he at?”

“Dr. Farber’s at a conference in Florida.
She’s
delivering a speech there.” She smiled at the surprise on my face. “Gotcha again. Didn’t I, Domenico? Funny thing about professional women these days, isn’t it? The world is
crawling
with them.”

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“Who’s
her
supervisor?” I said.

“That would be Dr. Leonard Lessard. One of yours.”

“Hey, look,” I said. “I’d appreciate it if you just cooled it on the sarcasm, okay? I’ve got one or two things I’m trying to deal with here without you—”

She tapped her finger again on the signature in front of me. “Dr.

Lessard’s the Deputy Commissioner for Clinical Services. He’s the guy who ordered the transfer.”

I stood up. Opened my mouth. Shut it again and sat back down.

“I tell you one thing,” I said. “If my brother gets so much as a scratch while he’s in this place—”

“He won’t,” she said. “I
promise
you. And you’re right, he
is
scared. And I can see you’re scared, too, which is probably why you’re being so obnoxious. But I want to tell you something. Are you listening, now? Can you really listen to me here, Domenico?”

“Dominick,” I told her again. “My name’s Dominick.”

“Dominick,” she said. She sat there waiting.

“All right. I’m
listening.
”

“You might be right,” she said. “Your brother might very well do better over at Settle than here at Hatch. Security’s tight here, by necessity; paranoiacs tend to have a hard time with all the watching and monitoring and security checks. But there’s a misconception about this place—that it’s the house of horror or the torture chamber or something. It’s not. Are there problems on the wards? Sure there are. Every day. Does anyone really want to be here? Uh-uh. Club Med it isn’t. But overall, the care is really pretty decent. Pretty humane.”

I let go a laugh. “I don’t want to burst your bubble or anything, but this place is so decent and humane that last night I got my gonads pushed back up into my gut by one of your hired goons. I got
real
humane treatment down here. You want to know why I’m wearing these stupid pants you were laughing at before? Because I’m black and blue and swollen. I can hardly walk because of one of the compassionate guards you got down at this place. And
I
didn’t even get beyond the locked steel doors.”

“I know, I know,” she said. “I saw the tail end of that. I’m sorry.

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That shouldn’t have happened, no matter how much of an asshole you were being. But just because one guard on the night shift thinks he’s Rambo, that doesn’t condemn this whole hospital. In the first place, the guards pretty much stay in the security areas unless there’s a problem. They don’t hang out in the wards; they have pretty limited contact with the patients, actually. And second, I
know
this place—especially Unit Two where your brother is. He’s in the best unit here. I may sound like a ‘company gal’ when I say this, but the people in Unit Two really do care. I mean it. And, like I told you before, Dr. Patel’s a real sweetheart. He’s lucky to have—”

“Fine,” I said. “Great. But it’s a
mistake.
”

“Hey,
paisano
,” she said. “It’s not a mistake. Let me walk you through it. Are you listening?”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” I said. “Just don’t talk in initials. And don’t say stuff like, ‘He was a political appointee,’ or, ‘Oh, it’s Jimmy Lane fallout,’ when I don’t even know what you’re goddamned talking about.”

She reached over and grabbed the candy bar I’d bought. Peeled off the wrapper at one end. Broke me a piece and took one for herself. “Okay, let me spell it all out,” she said. She glanced quickly at the intercom box on the wall. “Don’t quote me on any of this,” she said. “All right?”

She explained her theory first: that the order to transfer Thomas to Hatch had probably come down from Hartford as a result of all the publicity his self-mutilation had caused. “I knew he was in trouble the minute I saw he’d landed on the front page of the
Courant,
”

she said. “And then, when it went national—when it started showing up in papers like
USA Today
. . .”

I told her about the
Enquirer
,
Inside Edition
, Connie Chung.

“Shit,” she said. “The state hates that kind of negative publicity.

You remember Jimmy Lane, don’t you? The psych patient who strangled that college kid up on Avon Mountain?”

“In front of her girlfriends, right?”

She nodded. “God, what a horror show that was. I don’t know if I Know[116-168] 7/24/02 12:30 PM Page 153