Shark Out of Water (3 page)

“It will happen,” Carmody said, “and when it does, I’m gonna laugh.”

Guy knew she was only partially serious. Carmody played at being tough, but she was a very kind and generous person. That was why he met her every weekday morning on his way to work. He feared her French would never get her more than a cup of coffee in Paris, yet he kept coming. Guy was very close with Eli and Vance and Leo, friends made in medical school and kept long after, but did not like allowing people to see every side of him. If the guys knew he met Carmody every morning, and did not share any kind of sexual relationship with her, they would not know what to think. He preferred it that way.

“Hey, Space Boy,” Carmody said as she tapped his hand, “your phone’s buzzing at you.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Guy answered it immediately. “Dr. Saint Laurent.”

He listened to the caller, sighing as he quickly gathered up his things. By the time he ended the call, Carmody was standing to give him a parting hug. Their lessons were frequently cut short by an early call from the hospital.

“Patient?”

Guy nodded. “Police just brought someone in on a seventy-two hour hold and they need an evaluation.”

“All right, Super Shrink, better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“
Oui,
my friend
, à bientôt
.”

Leaning in, Guy quickly kissed both her cheeks before darting away. Normally, those kinds of calls did not bother him. He preferred the psychiatric ward at the hospital over private practice. This patient was different. This patient was not a stranger. She was
une vieile amie,
an old friend, and a dear one. Seeing her once again at the hospital would not bring back good memories.

Chapter 3

Le Bon Choix

Guy paused outside the patient’s room. He was free to go in, but closed his eyes against the idea. He almost wished they had not called him, and let Dr. Campos handle it instead. He was on staff when they brought her in, no? They could have, but they all knew Guy’s history with her.

Sighing, Guy pushed into the room and was saddened by the restraints. Cuts and bruises marred her once beautiful face. The staff had done their best to clean her up, but it was clear she had been living on the streets since he had last seen her. It pained him to think of her without a proper place to sleep each night, but he had already tried so many times to help her with no effect.

“Patricia,” Guy said softly, “are you awake?”

She tried to lift one hand to paw at him lazily, but the restraints held her back. She barely even seemed to notice. “You alwaysay mynameso funny,” she said, slurring her words. “Pa-tree-see-uh.” Her head lolled to one side as she attempted to laugh. It came out as more of a gasping fit.

“Would you prefer I said it the American way?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“I likeyouracc…ent.”

Guy patted her hand briefly. He knew they had needed to sedate her when the police brought her in because of her violent outbursts, and an evaluation would not be possible for several hours, but he had wanted to be sure she was all right… physically, at least. The bruises and cuts spoke to the assault she instigated, which got the police involved, but she looked as well as could be expected.

“I’ll be back soon to check on you, okay, Patricia?” She nodded slowly, as if the movement took a great deal of concentration. Saddened by the state she was in this time, Guy slipped out of the room quietly. By the time he made it to the nurses’ station, his mood had little hope of improving.

“Good morning, Dr. Guy,” Kit said. Hardly anyone used his last name, because most could not pronounce it properly, and they all knew it bothered him when it was said incorrectly.

“
Bounjour
, Kit.”              

She chuckled a little when her name came out sounding more like “keet” than “kit.” “You know, it’s kinda ironic you get so frustrated that no one can say your name, but you pronounce all of ours wrong every day.” Her grin made it clear she did not mind that he had difficulty forming the short “I” sound Americans loved so much.

“
Oui
, but you all like how I pronounce your names because you think my accent is sexy.”

Kit laughed, making him smile just a little. As much as Guy enjoyed a bit of playful banter with the nurses on the floor, he never took it further than a casual attempt at making someone smile or laugh. They all knew that and enjoyed pestering him about his accent and outgoing personality. The levity fell away quickly, though, as Guy’s thoughts turned back to Patricia.

“Someone can page me when Ms. Adams is more lucid,
yes?” Guy asked. “I need to go down to oncology again to help Dr. Kelly with another grief counseling session.”

Smiling gently, Kit said, “Of course. We’ll keep a close eye on her for you.”

As Guy stepped out onto the oncology floor, he could not help scanning the immediate area for Charlotte. It was foolish. He knew their run-in was only chance before. He was familiar enough with the staff on the floor to be sure she did not work there. She was most likely delivering paperwork or following up on something with one of the doctors the previous day. There was no reason for her to be there again, but still, he searched for her. By the time he made it to Dr. Kelly’s office, and had not spotted her, his already questionable mood had deteriorated even more.

When Kelly met him at the door, he frowned in concern. “Everything all right, Guy?”

Sighing, Guy rubbed a hand across his face. “Patricia was brought in again.”

Kelly gripped his shoulder tightly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He shook his head. “Any chance of getting her to go to an inpatient facility this time?”

“Not without a court order.” Saying the words stung. Guy hated the idea of committing her against her will, but he knew it was likely the only option left to him. He tried not to think about it too much until he had a chance to talk to her.

Kelly didn’t say anything else, just patted Guy’s shoulder in sympathy. He was kind enough to give Guy a few minutes to compose himself before opening the door to his office and holding it open for him. Taking a deep breath, Guy stepped in to face an elderly man whose last round of chemotherapy had had no real effect. He was at the end of his life, yet, as Guy sat down across from him, the man smiled.

“I told Dr. Kelly I didn’t need any counseling,” the man said, “but he insisted.”

“If you are not ready to talk yet, that is all right, Mr. Franklin,” Guy said.

The man shook his head. “It’s not that I’m not ready to talk. I don’t need to.” His smile was firm, even though his hands were trembling from age and weakness. “I knew from the beginning I wouldn’t have the strength I needed to beat this, and I made peace with that a long time ago.”

“Understanding that you may not survive is very different from being faced with it,” Guy said.

“I supposed it is, but I’d already reached the end of my life before I found out about the cancer. I’m almost ninety years old.” Mr. Franklin reached over and patted Guy’s hand, as if he was the one in need of comforting. “My wife passed seven years ago. I’m ready to be with her again.”

Guy had nothing to say to that. He had seen patients in denial, and this man was not one of them. He was completely at peace with the fact that his life would only last a few more short months. Comfort came from his belief that he would see his wife again, and it was a belief Guy shared. Strangely, Guy felt a sad smile creep onto his lips.

“I am sure she will be waiting for you,” he said quietly.

“I know she will be.” Mr. Franklin patted his hand gently before standing with some effort. Guy stood to help him, but was waved off. The man thanked Dr. Kelly on his way out.

The two doctors said nothing for a long time. It was Kelly who spoke first. “I wish all my patients could see things the way he does.”

Guy nodded, but inwardly, he wished the same for himself. What would it be like to have such surety, such peace? To Guy, everything was uncertain. Love, relationships, happiness. It could only be trusted when held at arm’s length, too far away to really effect you.

“
Dr. Guy,” a voice called out over the intercom, interrupting his thoughts, “please return to the psychiatric floor.”

“Uh-oh, you’ve been away from your nurses too long. They’re calling you home,” Dr. Kelly said, trying to lighten the mood between them.

In truth, Guy would have taken angry nurses over having to confront Patricia.
Dieu aidez-moi,
Guy thought as he walked away. He certainly needed some kind of higher power on his side if he wanted to help Patricia somehow. It was a long trip back to his regular floor.

“The sedation is wearing off,” said one of the nurses, this one an older woman named Christine.

“How is she doing?” Guy asked.

Christine grimaced. “Well, she tried to bite Kit when she attempted to adjust her gown. She’s asking for you, though. Says you’ll get her out of here.”

Shaking his head, Guy walked toward Patricia’s room. There was little chance, at that point, that he would be able to release her after the hold expired. Going off her meds—not that Patricia would ever admit to that—and being found wandering through grocery stores harassing people was one thing. Actually taking it to the level of assaulting other street dwellers and then attacking the police when they tried to subdue her was a whole different story. Now she was trying to bite hospital staff.
How did it come to this?
Guy wondered.

By the time Guy walked into Patricia’s room, he had little hope left. She had run out of free passes. Second chances only lasted so long before people gave up. Guy was not writing her off, but he was beyond believing she could take care of herself and not harm others.

“Dr. Guy,” Patricia said slowly. “I knew you would come.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, eyes darting every which way. “They’re trying to keep me here, but I knew you wouldn’t let them. We have to get out of here before they come back!”

“Before who comes back?” Guy asked.

Patricia’s body sunk in on itself as she scanned every inch of the room with her eyes. “The little blonde one. She wanted to put something in my arm, but I wouldn’t let her. They’re trying to poison me, Dr. Guy. They don’t want me to talk to you anymore.
They
don’t want me to talk to you, either.”

“The voices?” Guy asked.

“The ghosts,” Patricia said seriously.

Talk of ghosts was not uncommon for Patricia. She had always associated the auditory hallucinations she heard, due to her schizophrenia, with ghosts speaking to her from beyond the grave. It did help Guy estimate how long she had not been taking her medication. Patricia would deny being off her meds, but Guy knew her too well to be fooled. Usually ghosts did not show up for her until after at least two weeks off meds. Voices combined with the paranoia and violent tendencies were a clear indication that Patricia was not going anywhere any time soon. Guy listened patiently as she told him about everyone she thought was trying to kill her and what the voices were suggesting she do about it. He listened until she could talk no longer.

“Patricia, you remember what I told you the last time you were here, yes?”

“Yezzzz,” she said, dragging out the “Z” sound to mimic Guy.

“What did I tell you?”

“Stay out of trouble.” She said it calmly, but a few seconds later her head began swinging back and forth wildly. “They came after me, Dr. Guy. I had to fight back. I won’t let them take me away. They can’t have me. I’ll kill myself before I let them take me! I will, Dr. Guy, I will!”

Guy’s hands pressed down on his thighs, trying to quell his emotions. He cared for all his patients, but he tried not to get too emotionally involved. Becoming too close only made it more difficult when things did not go to plan.

“Patricia,” Guy said calmly, “I will not let anyone hurt you, yes? You know this. I will keep you safe, but I cannot let you go home. You are too sick to take care of yourself, correct?”

Her eyes widened in fear, and Guy braced himself for her reaction. It came in the form of screaming and as many curse words as she could think of. Sitting in front of her with a passive expression that was completely false, he took in her accusations and let guilt wash over him.

“I hate you,” Patricia wailed when her screaming finally stopped. Tears ran down her cheeks, but she hardly seemed aware of them. “You said you would help me, but you’re going to let them hurt me. I know you will. You have to let me go. I can’t stay here.”

Guy knew nothing he said would convince her he was trying to help. It broke his heart to see her in such a manner, feeling so scared and alone. There was nothing he could do to comfort her and make her see that she would be safer at an inpatient facility than back on the streets. Guy’s heart was heavy while he held her bound hand calmly as she cried and hated him.
S'il vous plaît, que ce soit le bon choix
, Guy prayed, let it be the right choice to help her.