Mind Over Mind (6 page)

“How’d you—?”

Ydrel just rolled his eyes. “Malachai is not going to let you really help me get out of here. He’s going to keep you—and me—under observation to make sure you get back safe to ‘dry heat’ Colorado and I stay trapped here.”

“And there’s surveillance equipment in your room?” Joshua couldn’t keep the skepticism from his voice.

“Don’t believe me. Ask Sachiko. It’ll give you an excuse to talk to her. Alone, even.”

“Speaking of,” Joshua again tossed the ball, this time an easy throw that kept them within conversation distance. “Dr. Malachai showed us your sketches. I take it you talked to the Miscria last night. By the way, what’s TASMAE mean?”

“That’s her name. The Miscria is like a job title or something.” Ydrel caught the ball and tossed it back. “Yeah, we talked. That’s why Malachai is so mad at you. You managed to do in one hour what he couldn’t accomplish in five years.”

“Really? So she’s going to leave you alone from now on?”

Ydrel caught Joshua’s return, then held the ball between both hands, studying the laces. “She, well, she promised to knock first.”

“Knock.”

“Yeah, so to speak. Sort of a psionic check to see if I’m asleep or busy or whatever. It was kind of funny, actually. All this time, she’s thought I was some kind of cross between angel and supercomputer. She was awfully surprised to discover I’m flesh and blood like her.”

“‘Flesh and blood,’ huh? So, what
else
did you do?” Joshua asked with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Now it was Ydrel’s turn to scowl and throw the ball hard—at Joshua’s stomach. “Things don’t work that way for me, so just put it out of your analysis. Got it?”

“Hey, easy! Now who’s uptight?”

“Why is it psychiatrists always think there’s a sexual motivation to everything?”

“Oh, and you didn’t make a similar if less pointed suggestion to me a few minutes ago? Besides, if your sketch is accurate, she’s kind of attractive, if you like muscle-bound Xena types.”

“You mean xeno, like xenophile.”

“I mean Xena, like Xena, Warrior Princess.” He paused to study Ydrel’s blank expression before throwing the ball. “You don’t know Xena?”

Ydrel caught the ball. “No.” Toss.

Catch. “You don’t know about Star Trek?” Toss.

Catch. “No.” Toss.

Catch. “Piers Anthony? Harry Potter? Sherlock Holmes? Really, you’ve got a library here. Don’t you ever cruise the fiction section?” Toss.

Catch. “Why?” Toss.

Catch. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his eyes. “Brother, we’ve got to broaden your education. Listen, you may be cool, but I’m not dressed for this. Can we get back in under the A/C?” Catching Ydrel’s disappointed look, he added, “I’ll bring some shorts, and next time we can even schedule it in. I think Edith would approve. And we’ll find a way to talk away from prying ears.”

“Yeah, OK.”

“Cool.” Joshua tossed the ball sideways to him. Ydrel winced as he caught it. “You all right?”

“Uh, yeah. I must have slept wrong or something. Let’s go.”

They headed back to where his jacket and tie waited, with Ydrel walking so slowly that Joshua had to concentrate on holding back his pace. The young patient seemed to be gathering his nerve to say something, so Joshua let the silence build until Ydrel had to break it.

“I. I— Look, I don’t know what you did yesterday, but you’re the first person who’s really helped me in a long time and I, well, I want you to do it again.”

“That’s what I’m here for.” He slid the tie back on, but decided to wait on the jacket until they were inside and the fabric had a chance to cool off some, too.

“It’s not that easy. Malachai’s watching us now. You’re a threat to his pet project. He’s a dangerous man, and there’s not a person in this facility who’ll stand up against him.”

Yeah, I noticed that
. “Tell you what. Let me think on it.” Then he shrugged in the same manner he had when he’d built Ydrel’s confidence the night before. “We’ll find a way to work it out.”

The anchor was still in place. Ydrel relaxed into a smile, which he kept even after they were back inside the building and among the surveillance and scrutiny.

“OK. Hey, can you bring a Frisbee? They don’t have one here, and since you’re so good at it, you can teach me.”

“How did you know?”

Ydrel rolled his eyes, and Joshua mimicked the gesture and laughed.

CHAPTER 7

Joshua peered into the nurse’s lounge and smiled. Sachiko was eating dinner and studying. Alone.

Earlier in her shift, he’d spent about half an hour with her and Monique, learning about their routine: shift change procedures, when and how they made their rounds, how they handled emergencies, what they did for dinner breaks. He’d asked Rita Sanchez similar questions about the housekeeping staff and planned to get to know the orderlies tomorrow or the next day. His father had impressed upon him the importance of meeting the support staff and learning how they worked. Today, though, he had to admit to an ulterior motive.

“Mind if I interrupt?”

He took her preoccupied flick of the head as assent and sat down across from her with his tray. It was already 6:30 and the smells from the cafeteria had enticed him to try the “institutional” food. Besides, it gave him a good excuse to join Sachiko.

Sachiko was reading a medical text, occasionally pausing to close her eyes and repeat something silently, committing it to memory. While he waited, Joshua bit into his venison stew and bit back a hum of appreciation. The staff could get their meals from the same cafeteria as the patients and, as with everything else, the patients were paying for the best.

Sachiko came to the end of a section and used a napkin to mark her place, putting the book aside. “What are you still doing here?”

“Writing up notes for Dr. Hoffman, studying up on a few cases.”

“You a workaholic?”

Yes.
“No, just new in town and enthusiastic about the job. Besides,” he paused to pick at his food, “I have some kind of stupid questions…“

“And you don’t want to look foolish to your mentors?”

“Well, yeah.”

“But a nurse is OK?” Her wry grin took some of the venom from her words.

“Actually,” Joshua grinned back, “I figured after last night, nothing I could say could make me look more foolish to you.”

Her grin softened to a genuine smile and he felt his heart skip. “I like your honesty,” she said quietly.

He was finding it very hard to look into her eyes and still breathe. He turned his gaze to her book instead. “What’re you studying?”

She sighed. “Procedures in the Reproductive System.”

“Pardon?”

“You know—cancer screenings, Paps…” She smiled wickedly. “Vasectomies.”

He gave the expected wince. “So is this continuing ed, or are you working on a medical degree?”

Her smile disappeared. “An MD, but only if I pass this time. I’ve taken this stupid course three times already. If I fail again, I’ll have to drop the program.”

Now Joshua’s wince was genuine. “Listen, if you want some help studying, I know a lot of memory tricks…”

“Thanks. This is summer session. I’m hoping the change of professor and the faster pace will help.” She picked at her salad a moment, then said, “So, what are your questions?”

“Ydrel made this comment today about Dr. Malachai having turned on some surveillance equipment in his room—”

“Oh? There’s nothing in the logs about it.”

“Really, I know it sounds paranoid, but he—what?”

“I said if he has, he hasn’t informed the nurses’ station.”

“You mean it’s true? The rooms are bugged?”

She glanced at him with raised eyebrows. “I take it that wasn’t in your orientation?”

 “I didn’t think it was even legal!”

She shrugged. “Every client signs a release giving us permission to monitor them 24 hours a day if we have reason to believe they may be a danger to themselves or to others. Surveillance equipment in the rooms is more efficient than a 24-hour bodyguard, don’t you agree?”

“But even in minimum care? I mean, these aren’t criminals.” He knew he was scowling and tried to force his face into a more neutral expression.

“You met Dr. Weaver today. Notice the ugly scar over her eye? Years ago—before my time, before we had the system—a client came in for alcohol treatment. His wife warned the staff that he sometimes turned violent; nonetheless, he responded well to detox and treatments, so they put him in minimal care. Figured the violence was directly related to the alcohol, I suppose.

“Dr. Weaver went to check on him one day when he didn’t show up for a session. He ambushed her in his room. Beat her with a lamp. She still gets dizzy spells from that head wound, I understand. Apparently, there had been clues about his abusiveness, but not enough to warrant transfer to medium care. If they’d had the equipment, though, we would have heeded his wife’s warning and he’d have been monitored—and Dr. Weaver would have been spared a great deal of pain.”

Joshua didn’t say anything for a long time, and the two ate in silence. Finally, he spoke. “OK, but what did Ydrel do to mark himself as dangerous all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know. As I said, the nurses on duty are usually informed when the surveillance equipment is turned on.”

Joshua noted that she didn’t suggest Ydrel might be lying or imagining things. “So why else would he bug Ydrel’s room?”

She looked up in annoyance. “Maybe he found out about Ydrel’s birthday present, or maybe it’s because of what you did. I understand you got quite a dressing-down this morning in the staff meeting.”

Joshua snorted. “What I ‘did’ was teach Ydrel to cope with a situation Dr. Malachai has spent the last five years unsuccessfully trying to repress. What I ‘did’ was sound psychiatry, and he took it as a challenge to his power base. Called it ‘tricks’ because I didn’t mother-may-I.” He stabbed at his meal viciously. “Who does he think he is, anyway?”

He stared morosely at his food, trying to compose his features into some sort of reasonable calm.

 When he finally looked up, her face was as cold as her tone. “He is the senior psychiatrist of one of the most respected institutions in the nation—and your boss. You are just an intern. You’d better remember that and find a way to deal with him, or you’re not going to make it through the summer.” With that, she reopened her book and again focused on her studies. If she noticed his hurt reaction, she gave no sign. Joshua looked at her a moment, wanting to say something, but instead, he gathered up his tray and left, holding his tongue and his anger.

_*

He didn’t hold back with his parents, however. “I thought you’d be on my side!” he snapped into the phone.

“Of course we’re on your side, honey,” his mother soothed. “And that means when you screw up, we need to call you on it.”

“But I did good work!”

This time his father, who was on an adjoining line, replied. “What you did with Ydrel sounds promising. We’re not arguing that. But you’re not a 44-year-old psychiatrist with a PhD and two decades’ experience. You’re a teenage intern without a degree or a license. If anything had gone wrong—or goes wrong—it could open up a big can of worms for the institution.”

Joshua made a pained sound. “I never thought of that. I’m surprised Dr. Malachai didn’t bring that up.”

His mother snorted. “I’m not. You showed him up pretty badly. He wanted to put you back in your place, and rational arguments might have legitimized your work.”

Now, Joshua smiled. That was more the reaction he’d hoped for. “So what do I do? I really want to help this kid, and I can. And you know I can, Dad, or I wouldn’t be here. The point is, I get the feeling that Dr. Malachai doesn’t intend to let me have any real impact. And Edith doesn’t expect me to do more than be his buddy. That’s not what I came here for.”

“You went there to learn, and not just about working with patients,” his father said. “Find a way to work with Edith and Randall. All those skills you’ve learned aren’t just for clients, you know. Find the best way to approach them with a plan that’s palatable to both of them. Remember the first time you tried to read Tielhard de Chardin?”

“Ugh.” The French philosopher was one of the thickest, most soporific writers he’d ever tackled. It would take him days to figure out even a page. If he hadn’t been mid-semester with an A average, he’d have just dropped the course and tossed Tielhard out the window.

“Malachai is your next Chardin.”

“And remember, my maverick,” his mother added, “talented though you are, you are a 19-year-old undergraduate intern. Dr. Randall Malachai is a top-rated psychiatrist, administrator of an important mental health care facility, and your boss. If you’re going to survive the summer, you’d better find a way to work with him.”

Joshua sighed. “That’s what Sachiko said.”

“Sachiko?”

“Yeah,” he sighed again. “She’s this nurse.”

When he didn’t say anything more, his mother prompted, “And?”

And she’s smart and funny, and the way she smiles—
“Well, really, she’s the swing shift supervisor, and really close to Ydrel...and when I talked to her tonight about all this, she just said about the same thing, that’s all. Really.”
Only she got ticked and I got mad and I’ve probably blown any chance with her and why am I even thinking about that?

Now he heard a different set of sighs from his parents: the worried
can-we-protect-you-from-this?
kind. “Sugar, you just picked yourself up from a really hard break-up. That’s one of the reasons you decided to intern so far away—”

“Mom, it’s okay. Really.”

_*

“Whoa.” Joshua picked up the 4-inch binder Dr. Malachai had dropped onto the table in front of him. The cover page, slipped neatly into the plastic front, had the SK-Mental logo with the motto “Providing Optimal Care for Optimal Mental Health.” Printed over the logo was “Internship Schedule: Joshua A. Lawson, Book One” and dates for the next two weeks in bold blue letters. Two weeks? He’d had year-long courses that looked less intimidating.

“I’ve decided that we’d underestimated your ambition, so I adjusted your course load accordingly,” Dr. Malachai said, taking a seat at the small oblong conference table. Across from Joshua, Edith shrugged and gave him an encouraging smile.

Joshua grunted noncommittally as he flipped through the schedule. This week, he was finishing his orientation; then in addition to the more in-depth mentoring from the psychiatrists who had volunteered to take him under their wings, he would be working at least a half day with most of the other aspects of institute, from the orderlies (“bedpan duty,” he thought) to their lawyers. Plus, there was a guided reading list with real cases to study and draw parallels...

It was beyond anything he’d imagined. It was exactly what he’d hoped—a real-world education and a workload heavy enough that he could drown in it for a summer.

It also left him with a scheduled forty-five minutes “recreation” time with Ydrel three days a week after lunch. Less, since he’d have to change clothes if they were playing outside.

Malachai guessed his thoughts. “We thought it’d be best if you kept your interactions with Ydrel to structured activities.”

“What if he wants to talk?”

“By all means talk, just no...” the Chief Psychiatrist let his voice trail off.

No NLP “tricks.”
Joshua forced a smile. “Yes, sir. So when do I start?”

Edith escorted him to a small office they had set aside for him. It was just big enough for a desk with a computer, a bookshelf and a locking file cabinet. He swapped the back-breaking binder for a notepad and followed her down to payroll, thinking he’d rather have bedpan duty.

By his scheduled time with Ydrel, he was sure he’d rather have had bedpan duty. He was equally certain that he was going to work extra hard to not mess up his audition with Chipotle in July. Then he could spend his days singing and playing music and let his agent deal with the numbers hassle. With his head swimming with numbers, tax codes and profit margins, he headed to Ydrel’s room.

_*

“Performing’s just a different sort of hassle, you know,” Ydrel greeted him at his door, then started toward the grounds without bothering to see if the intern followed. Joshua bit back a sigh and followed.

“Aren’t you going to be hot in that?” he asked. Ydrel wore a long sleeve t-shirt and sweats despite the fact that the temperature had already passed 95.

“I’m fine,” Ydrel snarled. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Sorry. What exactly is the subject?”

Ydrel huffed. Joshua half-expected him to straight-arm the door open, but he opened it gently. Maybe he was learning to control his temper after all.

“I don’t feel like games, so let’s just walk.” He led him to the path that wove along the fence line before speaking again. “Being a rock star. Don’t know why you think it will be easier.”

“How’d you know? Never mind. First off, I don’t think it’s easier so much as it’s what I’d rather do. But at least I don’t have to worry about liability insurance—”

“No. You have to worry about contracts and whether your agent is cheating you and how it will affect your family. You’re naïve.”

Joshua snorted. “Considering I don’t have a girlfriend—”

“She likes you.”

“What?” Joshua stopped.

Ydrel paused only long enough to roll his eyes. “You’re an idiot.” He started back toward the building.

“Hey!” Joshua grabbed his shoulder. Ydrel flinched away.

“Jeez! I’m sorry. Will it make you feel any better if I tell you marriage trumps fame?”

Ydrel squinted at him, and again Joshua experienced the crawly feeling like he’d felt the night before. “You know,” he said to cover his shudder, “I’m getting tired of having to pass your little tests.”

“Tough.” But Ydrel broke his gaze and started back to the building. Josh fell in beside him.

“What’s with you, anyway?”

“Nothing. Bad night. I’m relieving you of your obligation today.”

“Oh, are we going sing that song again? You haven’t told me what’s up with you and Tasmae.”

“I didn’t see her last night.”

When they got to Ydrel’s room, the housekeeper was in the middle of making his bed. She looked up and smiled. “Buenos dias, senores.”

“You finished in the bathroom yet?”

“Oh, yes. I did it first.”

Ydrel turned to Joshua. “You’d better get back to work. I’m going to get a long, hot shower before I have to face my afternoon session with Malachai and Edith. Talk to you later. And…sorry.”