Every Fifteen Minutes (20 page)

“Nice trail, isn't it?” Laurie said, swinging her arms as she ran.

“Are you joking?”

“No, not at all. I think it's the only thing I've said in recent memory that wasn't a joke.” Laurie chuckled. “In fact, I just surprised myself. Who knew I could play it straight?”

Eric smiled. “I did.”

“Aw, thanks. Aren't you nice?”

“I'm a number-two kind of guy.”

“Ha!” Laurie shoved him playfully, and behind her a pair of female runners jogged past, followed by a teenage skateboarder spreading his arms like wings, a carefree blur of tattooed arms.

Suddenly Eric heard a phone ringing and they both checked their pockets, but it was his phone. He stopped running and slid his phone from his pocket. “Excuse me.”

“No worries.” Laurie ran in place, keeping her heart rate up.

Eric checked the screen, but he didn't know the number, so he pressed Answer Call. “Eric Parrish here.”

“Dr.… Parrish?” said someone, crying hard. “Oh no … oh no…”

“Yes, who is this?” Eric asked, alarmed. He didn't recognize the voice through the hoarse, choking sobs.

“It's … Max and … my … my grandmother, she just …
died.
”

 

Chapter Twenty-three

“Max, oh no,” Eric said, stricken. Laurie stopped running in place. A cyclist looked over with a neat swivel of his helmeted head as he sped past.

“She was just … talking to me.” Max's sobs choked his words. “She was fine … then all of a sudden … her eyes got really … wide and she … she … made a sound, a really
scary
sound … it came out of her mouth … like a gurgle … and her eyes stopped and she just …
died
.”

“Oh my God, this just happened? I'm so sorry.” Eric could imagine how awful it must've been for Max, who had probably never seen death before.

“There's nobody here … but me … and her … it happened after the nurse left for the night … I called the hospice … and she's going to call the funeral people … but I just don't know what to do … I just don't understand, she was right there … she was
looking at me
.”

“So you're there, alone? With her?”

“Yes, they said to wait … and they'd come, they'd call … but this is horrible … I can't believe it … what am I gonna do?”

“Max, if you want, you can come to my office.” Eric wished he could reach through the phone and calm the boy. “We can talk about it. I can help—”

“No, no, no … I don't want to see anybody … I mean, we were talking about
Golden Girls,
and she was saying how funny Estelle was … I don't know what to do … it's just so horrible … I can't even deal.”

“You can come later tonight if you want.” Eric glanced at Laurie, who was listening, alarmed. “Anytime at all, you can call me and come to my office, or we can talk over the phone. I'm completely available to you—”

“It won't help, nothing can help … now she's gone, she's really gone, like … It's like, how can anybody's last words be about Estelle … that's just
not right,
and if I told her that now, she would laugh and laugh, and I shook her but it's the weirdest thing … I mean, I never saw … and she just looks so, she's like herself but she's
not herself
 … she looks like she's asleep but she's not,
she's not
.” Max wailed, emitting a cry of grief so raw that Eric felt it rattle his very bones.

“Max, I promise you, you will get through this, and I will help you—”

“No … I don't want to see you anymore … I don't want to see
anybody
anymore … I don't have anybody, there's nothing … I just want to die. I wish I were dead—”

Suddenly, Max's voice cut off, and they were disconnected. Eric pressed End and Recall with a shaking hand.

Laurie puckered her lower lip. “I feel so bad for him,” she said quietly.

“I don't like what he just said, that he ‘wanted to die.'”

“Oh no.”

“I don't want him to be alone right now. At this point, he's a suicide risk.” Eric heard the ringing stop, but the call went to voicemail, so he said into the phone, “Max, it's Dr. Parrish calling you back. Please call me. I'm here and I can help you. Good-bye, and call anytime, no matter how late.” Eric hung up, his thoughts racing. “I don't have the mother's number. I think he told me she works at an insurance company. God, I thought I'd get more time with him before she passed.”

“How many times have you seen him, since Friday? Once?”

“Twice, but still.” Eric pressed Recall, to try to get Max back again.

“Don't beat yourself up. You couldn't have mitigated this.” Laurie rested a hand on Eric's shoulder.

“I could have, I should have.” Eric listened to the phone ring. Three cyclists powered past, their bike chains whirring.

“How? You saw him both days of the weekend. What more could you have done?” Laurie squeezed his shoulder. “That's more than anybody else would've done.”

“I knew he was in trouble, I've been worried about him.” Eric heard the call go to voicemail, but didn't leave another message. He exhaled, trying to expel the tightness from his chest. “I almost wish he'd been sick enough to admit. Then I could've kept an eye on him. But I couldn't, honestly.”

“He wasn't sick enough, even I could tell that.”

“Not at that time, but he couldn't withstand her death.”

“You can't admit him because he'll
become
a candidate for admission. It doesn't work that way. That's the law, and you know it as well as I do.”

“He fell between the cracks, and I let him fall.”

“You worried about suicide?”

“It's possible.”

“Oh boy.” Laurie frowned. “I'd send the crisis team out from the ED, but they're already on a call. Did you prescribe him anything?”

“I gave him a script for fluoxetine, twenty milligrams, a starting dose. There are thirty pills in a bottle.”

“That's not dangerous, is it?”

“No,” Eric answered, tense. “It won't kill him even if he takes the whole bottle. He'll just feel like crap. Fluoxetine is safer than the older antidepressants. Even the higher dosages, like forty or sixty milligrams, won't kill you either, even if taken all at once.”

“That's good.”

“I'm going to send the police over there.” Eric raised his phone and called 911. The phone was answered immediately, and he said, “Hello, this is Dr. Eric Parrish of Havemeyer General Hospital and I need a welfare check on a minor patient named Max Jakubowski, whom I regard as a suicide risk. He's a seventeen-year-old, and his grandmother just passed away at their home of natural causes. I need you to send someone to the house to check on him.”

“We will, Doctor,” the female dispatcher answered. “Do you have the address, and what is his name again?”

Eric scrolled to the contact list and gave her the information. He realized Max must have called from a house phone, which was why his phone hadn't recognized the number.

“What is your address and phone number, Dr. Parrish?”

Eric gave her his information. “Please get a cruiser over there, right away. Don't wait.”

“They're on their way as we speak.”

“Did they leave from the police station? Because I think that's about twenty minutes from the house.”

“Dr. Parrish, I only work in dispatch. I can't tell you where they left from but I promise you, they'll be there as soon as they can.”

“Can you ask them to call me when they get there?”

“That's not procedure—”

“Please, have the uniformed officer give me a call, it's a matter of life and death.” Eric wasn't about to take no for an answer. He'd met many of the uniformed police of the surrounding townships when they'd brought his patients to the hospital ER. They would be happy to help him if they could, procedure or no.

“Okay, I'll have them call, Dr. Parrish.”

“Thanks so much. Good-bye.” Eric hung up the phone, his mouth dry. The next few hours would be critical for Max's safety, and he'd be on tenterhooks until he heard the boy's voice again. “We should get a call.”

“Good. Why don't we sit down? There's a bench right there.”

“I'm fine.” Eric wanted to remain standing. He felt more in control, God knew why. He tried to imagine Max, sitting by himself in the empty house, alone with the corpse of his beloved grandmother, the only true mother he'd ever known.

“You don't look fine, you look pale. Come on, let's sit down.” Laurie gestured to a cedar bench with a memorial plaque on the back.

“I'm trying to think what else I can do.”

“There isn't any more you can do. You have to wait for him or the police to call back. Come on, we're in the bike path, standing here.” Laurie crossed to the bench and motioned him over.

“I wish he would call back.” Eric followed her and sat down, checking his phone reflexively.

“He will, don't worry.”

“He's not ready for this.” Eric rubbed his face, self-soothing. “I just wish I'd had more time with him. A week, maybe two. I could've gotten him stabilized.”

“It wouldn't have helped. He wouldn't be more prepared to lose her two weeks from now than he is now.”

“That's not true. I could do a lot in two weeks, especially if I saw him every day.”

“You're not being rational. You're just upset.” Laurie looked over, her gaze calm and practical, accustomed to crisis without drama.

“I'm upset but I'm not wrong. I can build the foundation for a therapeutic relationship quickly if the patient is motivated, and Max was motivated. If anything, he was needy.”

“Eric, you can't do everything. You're not Superman.”

“Still.” Eric tried to shake it off, but couldn't. “I'll never forgive myself if he hurts himself.”

“You really care about this kid, don't you?”

“I care about all my patients.”

“I know, but this one, it seems different.” Laurie cocked her head. “That's called enmeshment, isn't it, when you get too close to the patient? Do you think that's happening?”

“No,” Eric answered, vaguely defensive. “I admit that I like him. You do, too.”

“I do, but not like you.” Laurie softened, and Eric realized in that moment that his eyes had filmed.

“I feel for him, what can I say?” Eric knew that he felt differently about Max, more sympathetic. Maybe because Max was fatherless and Eric had no son, and lately he even felt as if he were losing Hannah. Or maybe because Max was so alone, having lost someone he really loved. “The term isn't ‘enmeshment.' As a technical matter, it's more like countertransference.”

“I know I'm supposed to know what that means, but I don't.”

“For example, transference is when a patient with father issues treats you like a father. Countertransference is when a psychiatrist begins to treat a patient a certain way, because of issues in his own life.” Eric paused, challenging himself. “I suppose I treat Max in a fatherly way, maybe because of what's going on with my divorce, but I don't think it's gone as far as countertransference. But I'll monitor it, in any event.”

“I'm not faulting you. I'm just saying that it's unusual, even for Captain Emotion.”

Eric managed a smile at the old nickname. It had been a long time, since medical school, that they'd confided in each other, and it felt strange now that he was single. He tried to move past the awkward moment. “I wish I could go over there and check on him. I wish I could tell him it's going to be okay, that he will get through this, and that his grandmother would want him to get through this.”

“I understand, you want to fix it but you can't.”

“Right.” Eric raked his fingers through his hair. He checked his phone, willing it to ring. “I can't stand just sitting here
not
doing anything. You can't solve a problem by remote control.”

Laurie nodded. “I get that. Docs are born to fix things, or at least to try, as you say. I fix things all day long. I sew it, patch it, debride it, suture it. I know that people think ED docs are like high-end plumbers, but at least I get to fix it, if it's humanly possible. I tell my staff, if we lose anybody, it can never be because we didn't try hard enough.”

Eric looked over. “Since when did you get so insightful?”

Laurie grinned. “Not just another pretty face.”

Eric laughed, realizing, maybe for the first time, that Laurie really did have a pretty face. Best of all, she exuded a relaxed air, and her comfort in her own skin had always made him feel comfortable, despite her get-to-the-point bluntness.

“I have an idea.” Laurie leaned back in the bench. “Forget the run. Let's sit here until they call back, then after that, we can have dinner. I'll make it for you, and you can see my new apartment. You still a G & T guy?”

“Yes.” Eric smiled, surprised she remembered his drink.

“Good. I have Tanqueray and I might even have a lime or two. What do you say? You up?”

Eric managed a smile. “You had me at ‘forget the run.'”

 

Chapter Twenty-four

Eric followed Laurie inside her apartment, checking his phone. He'd driven his car behind Laurie's, his worry about Max intensifying. Neither Max nor the police had called him back, and he'd called the 911 dispatcher asking if the cops had been at Max's house yet, but the dispatcher didn't know.

“Still no word?” Laurie called over her shoulder, tossing her keys and purse onto a pine console table.