Undermind: Nine Stories (12 page)

Up ahead, he saw two men standing next to a
metal barrel with flames flickering around the top of it. They were
roasting something that smelled like some kind of meat he didn’t
recognize. The men were filthy and wore shabby clothes that looked
like they’d been withdrawn from a landfill. As he got closer, he
saw that they were holding sticks over the fire inside the barrel.
Definitely cooking something, using the trashcan like a barbecue.
It was hard to believe the depths to which people could sink.
Filthy and stinking and eating roasted garbage. The sight of it
made him sick with disgust, and yet, the closer he got, the more
his mouth watered at the smell of flame-broiled meat. What was it
they were cooking?

They watched him approach and appraised his
clothing. He wore a custom-tailored Armani suit, Italian loafers,
and a Rolex worth more than their annual salaries combined. They
smiled as he stepped up and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Could you possibly spare
some food? I haven’t eaten for a few days. I have money.”

“Your money’s no good. You should know that.
What have you got to trade?”

The CEO reached into the pockets of his grimy
pants and pulled out his keyring with the Jaguar fob. He looked at
his keys with sadness, then dropped them on the ground. They were
useless. His homes and his cars were gone. He opened his tattered
suit coat and reached into the breast pocket. He withdrew his
lambskin wallet and thumbed through its contents. Black and
platinum credit cards and several crisp hundred dollar bills.
Worthless. He shook out the cards and money. The cards scattered
around his feet. The wind snatched the bills and carried them down
the street. He offered them the empty wallet. They shook their
heads.

“I don’t have anything,” he cried out, on the
verge of tears, his stomach aching for food.

“Is that watch made of real gold?

The CEO drew back his frayed sleeve, exposing
his watch. He slipped it off with his other hand.

“Yes. Yes, it is!” he said, holding it out to
them.

The man closest to him looked at the other man
who nodded.

“Okay. One squirrel for the watch. And half a
bottle of water.” He handed over the stick with the charred meat
skewered on the end of it and reached down for something by his
feet. He came up with a plastic bottle half-filled with cloudy
water and handed it over.

The CEO took them both, grateful for the chance
to eat and drink, but at the same time, he worried about where his
next meal would come from now that he’d traded away the only thing
of value that he still owned. He had no practical skills, or
anything with which to bargain in this post-nuclear world.

Even though he ate slowly, his meal only lasted
a moment. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then drank the last of
the water. He was about to toss the empty bottle into the burning
trash barrel, but one of the men held up his hand, signaling him to
stop. He realized that the bottle was a resource, so he screwed the
cap onto it and stuffed it into his coat pocket, smiling. He was
learning.

“Do you want to help us look for squirrels?
We’ll split whatever we find.”

“Yes. I do. Thank you!”

It was turning out to be a great day. He’d
eaten, and acquired a bottle, and he had made two friends who could
teach him things. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so
happy.

###

When Lisa hadn’t
heard from her father in three days – no return calls, no text
replies and no email responses - she drove to his house and found
the front door open. She cautiously walked in without knocking,
fearing what she’d find. She heard her father’s voice and breathed
a sigh of relief. He wasn’t dead. He was alive and talking to
someone in his office. She went down the hall and started to enter
his office then suddenly stopped.

“I know that’s what it looks like, but you know
me better than that, babe.” After a few seconds of silence, he
said, “Exactly! That’s what I’ve been trying to say. You’re as
smart as you are beautiful.” He was alone in the room and was not
on the phone.

Lisa stood watching, confused. He had to be on
speakerphone. The room was silent. Maybe the person on the other
end was thinking of what to say.

“Oh? That’s what you think,” her father said,
laughing and smiling.

Okay, so he’s responding to someone who isn’t on
speakerphone. He has to be wearing a Bluetooth headset on his other
ear. She tapped gently on the door, not wanting to interrupt him,
but also not wanting to stand there eavesdropping.

Her father turned at the sound, seemed to glance
right through her as a question passed over his face like a shadow,
then he turned his head away without even acknowledging her
presence. When he briefly turned to face her, she saw that he was
not wearing a headset on his other ear.

“I have been working on that. All my life, it
seems.”

Who was he talking to? Lisa felt what she
thought of as an irrational fear come over her.

“Dad,” she spoke loudly to get his attention for
sure this time.

Her father reclined back in his chair, getting
into the groove of a conversation he clearly seemed to be enjoying.
But with whom? Lisa wondered. And why was he ignoring her?

“I fear I’ve wasted too much time trying to
convince others of each thing that I was learning; not knowing that
each of us learns our own lessons in our own time and you can’t
really expect to be lucky enough to have someone right beside you
on the same path.”

Lisa stepped into the room. She couldn’t take
anymore of watching her dad clearly engaged in a conversation with
someone but in a way that made no sense, and being ignored was
creeping her out. Her dad never ignored her. She was his favorite
person. At least she always had been up until three days ago. Now
she wasn’t sure any more. Had her dad fallen so in love with
someone? He didn’t even care that his daughter was standing in the
same room with him.

“Well, it would be nice if we had a little help
from time to time. Earth is so very difficult, and going it alone
just makes it that much harder to make any progress. Even when you
do make progress, you’re never sure, and there’s rarely anyone
there to validate you and let you know you’re on the right path.
Does everything have to be shrouded in doubt on top of
mystery?”

“Dad! Look at me!” Lisa yelled, close to
tears.

Her father laughed. “Well, yes, I did. But god
damn it wasn’t easy. I went most of my life thinking I was fucking
insane.”

The last word he spoke sent chills down Lisa’s
body. It was a fear she hadn’t known she was feeling until it was
brought to the surface by him speaking the word “insane.” She was
afraid her father had lost his mind.

“Dad, speak to me. Right now. I’m serious.
You’re scaring me!”

“Thank you. It’s nice to finally be
acknowledged. What happens now?”

Lisa could not get over the surreal feeling of
her dad saying things that echoed her feelings. She would love to
be acknowledged – by him! And she also wondered what to do next.
Something was seriously wrong here.

Drugs. He must be on something.

“Dad? Are you on something?”

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Is that it? Are you high on something, Dad?
Please answer me.” Lisa started to cry. This situation was scaring
her. She knew her dad had used drugs long ago, before she was born,
but it was unlikely that he had started again at this age. And he
didn’t appear to be on anything. Strangely, he had never looked
better. His skin looked healthy. His eyes were bright and alert –
except for their apparent inability to see her.

“Okay. In that case, I’m going to lie down and
relax. It’s been a long life and I can’t wait for it to be
over.”

Lisa thought she was scared before, but now she
was terrified. Was her dad suicidal? Had he lost his mind and
decided to kill himself? She had to do something, but she didn’t
know what.

He got up from his desk chair and walked around
the room, heading toward her where she was standing a few feet
inside the doorway. He was looking through her again and she felt
like she was going to scream if he didn’t see her and talk to
her.

“Dad, I love you!” she yelled at him from just
two feet away.

“How much? Please don’t tell me we have to start
at the beginning.”

He bumped into her as if she wasn’t there at all
as he went to walk through the doorway. Lisa stepped to the side
and screamed in a terrified panic.

Lisa was pacing back and forth on the sidewalk
in front of her father’s house when the ambulance arrived. She was
smoking one of her father’s cigarettes and coughing. She hadn’t
smoked since she was in high school several years before. When the
paramedics approached her, she tossed her half-smoked cigarette
into the neatly cut lawn.

“You’ve got to help him,” she said as one of
them approached her. The other one went to the back of the
ambulance, opened the door and retrieved a bag.

“Is he inside?”

“Yes. He was laying on his bed, still talking to
himself when I called you. I don’t know what’s wrong. My dad has
always been the sanest person I’ve ever known, but now I think he’s
lost his mind.” The fear that she’d been holding inside of her
finally came out in a gush of tears as she spoke it aloud to
another person.

“It’s okay, we’ll take care of him. Just show us
where he is,” the paramedic said.

She led them inside and walked to the hallway,
then pointed.

“The second room on the left,” she said, then
her father laughed loudly and she shuddered. Was that the sound of
a happy person, or a maniac? She hugged herself and cried as she
watched the paramedics walk down the hall and into her father’s
room. She feared that she’d somehow lost her father and might never
see him again the way she’d always known him. She wanted to just
wake up and have this be another normal, boring day.

“Thank you for coming, Lisa. I’m Dr. Hobbins.
I’m pleased to meet you, but I’m sorry about the circumstances.” He
extended his hand and she shook it with a weak grasp. “Please have
a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the two cloth-covered chairs
in front of his desk. She glanced at the top of his desk and two
words jumped out at her from the spine of a thick book titled:
DSM-IV-TR Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental
Disorders.

She tried to swallow a lump that suddenly formed
in her throat. She sat down and began biting one of her nails,
occasionally spitting out bits of fingernail and chips of polish
without even thinking of about what she was doing.

“After your father’s seventy-two hour hold at
County General, he was brought here and placed in my care.” Lisa
withdrew her fingertip from mouth and started to speak. The doctor
raised his hand and she stopped. “I’ll probably cover most of what
you want to ask, but if I don’t, then you can let me know, but it
will probably be faster and less painful if you let me finish
first.”

Lisa nodded and looked at the light reflecting
off of his bald head. She was breathing rapidly and feeling
claustrophobic although the doctor’s office was fairly large and
had windows with a view to wide expanse of green lawn with a busy
street beyond it.

“Your father’s condition hasn’t changed at all.
He hasn’t spoken directly to anyone since he was admitted to County
General. He also hasn’t stopped conversing with someone that only
he can see and hear. He appears completely oblivious to his
physical surroundings and so naturally, he hasn’t eaten. We’re
having to feed him intravenously for the time being.”

Lisa’s eyes became watery and threatened to drip
tears. She went from biting on her fingernail to biting her
fingertip, pressing down on the center of the nail with her teeth
as much as she could stand the pain. She felt like she her mind was
going to spin out of control and she’d be given her own room in the
mental hospital. The pain from biting her finger helped to keep her
grounded and focused.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but your
father’s case is a bit remarkable. I’ve never seen anyone suffering
from such a deep delusion engaged in what seems to be such a
rational conversation – at least the half of it we can hear. It’s
no different than listening to one side of a perfectly sane person
having a conversation.”

Lisa squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at them
with her knuckles which came away damp. She didn’t want to hear
about how fascinating her father’s psychosis was.

“Nevertheless, he is quite delusional despite
the unusual display of rational thought and intelligence. Your
father may be a experiencing nothing more than a temporary
psychotic break from which he could return to his normal healthy
state of mind. If he does, he may have no memory of what has
happened, or he may recall it as one would a dream. That’s the best
case we can hope for. It’s also possible that he’s suffering from a
sudden onset of schizophrenia, in which case, there is treatment,
medication, and therapy that can assist him with managing his
illness.”

Despite being in a daze of unreality, because
there was no way this could be happening to her or to her father,
Lisa understood that she really didn’t know anything more now than
she knew before she had come here. They didn’t know what was wrong
with her father, and that meant they couldn’t help him. Not
really.

“Is there any history of mental illness in your
father’s side of the family?”

“No. None at all.” She removed her fingertip
from her mouth and began biting the first layer of skin in the
center of her upper lip.

“Does your father use, or has he ever used
hallucinogenic drugs?”

“Um, I know he smoked pot before and I think he
used cocaine a long time ago.” With every question she answered,
the doctor wrote something in a chart. She hated the sound of the
pencil lead moving across the paper. She wished he would use a
pen.