FicWad

“Yes, thanks Beth, send him in” I put the phone back down on the receiver, thankful that Beth didn’t screech or scream like some of the other secretaries, her voice was quiet which made her seem even more … Sweet. She’d rung through on the intercom system to tell me that my first patient had been brought down from the ward.

Bob seemed to drift into the room and dropped himself lightly onto the couch. His face was incredibly pale due to the fact that he refused to eat, not because of anorexia, but because of Cotard’s syndrome. Bob Bryar believed himself to be dead. That’s not to say that he wouldn’t speak to me, he did, but thought that I had some sort of mystical power like Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost.

“Its been a year since I was able to feel properly and a year since I spoke to anyone except for lost souls,” Usually he’d wander about the office, not talking unless I asked him questions, “But it’s time I told my story”

It was strange that he’d decided to tell me his story today. There was nothing special about it to my recollection, it didn’t have any real meaning in his past, and it wasn’t even a national holiday. For the first time since we’d met he looked straight at me, usually he’d not look anyone directly in the eye, that’s even if he looked in their direction. I didn’t say a word; I’d give him as long as he needed.

“My wife left me, she didn’t love me anymore”, Choking slightly on the words, he continued, “I said to her ‘don’t leave me, please stay’, but she didn’t. She said that I’d been a bad husband. But that’s a fucking lie. I was kind, I knew I’d make a good father, and I would have if she hadn’t killed it.”

“What?” I splutter on the bagel I’d just taken a bite out of.

“I told her I’d make a good daddy; I said ‘My babies are going to be really loved by their daddy’. She smiled and said ‘maybe one day’. She was pregnant at the time, I didn’t know”, His face was twisted as he tried not to cry, he put every effort into not breaking down, “She told me the day I left, she said ‘Bob, your never going to be a daddy to this baby, I’m getting rid of it, I don’t want any part of you in my life’. I cried in front of her but all she did was laugh.”

I sat at my desk, feeling a little more than guilty by my own selfishness. I’d completely forgotten about Kate’s baby, I mean, our baby. The only thing this guy wanted was someone to take care of, and I wanted rid of my kid. I was no better than his wife.

“She said that I’m twisted in my head, she shouted at me. She called me a sick bastard, but I’m not, I swear. I fucking loved her, and for the two days I’d known about my kid being alive in her, I loved it too. She copied all the forms she had to sign, you know … When she … When she,” He whispered the next words, clutching onto a pillow from the couch, “When she had an abortion. She sent me the forms; she wanted me to know she’d killed my baby”

“I phoned her, I called loads. I said ‘Lizzie, don’t. I’ll look after it.’ But she didn’t listen, she did it anyway. She didn’t have to; all she had to do was carry it – that’s all. The night I got the forms I killed myself. I took lots of tablets and I died.” He sobbed into the pillow. I was completely dumbfounded, the most I’d ever gotten from him was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer and now this? Honestly, these people need professional help. Oh wait, that’s me.

“I woke up in the hospital once or twice that night. The doctors were great, they did everything for me, but they couldn’t save me. I’m glad I’m dead, maybe I can look after my baby now, maybe we can be together … Like a family.” He hadn’t quite shaken off the syndrome but this; well this was definitely a sign of improvement. After all this time! Yippee!

My session with Bob seemed to end sooner than it normally did. The hour was up before I knew it had truly begun, Bob and I had gone over the hour when Beth rang through again, apologising excessively about disturbing me but at the same time reminding me about my eleven o’clock appointment that would be arriving shortly.

I’d decided that I was going to ring my wife before my next patient, check up on her, and make sure she felt ok. I picked up the telephone and rang through to reception. I asked the heavenly voice for an outside line and gave her the number of my wife’s office. As soon as Kate picked up the phone she sounded pleasantly surprised to her my voice on the other end.

“Hey baby. Why are you ringing me at work?” Her voice chimed down the line and into my receiver.

“Uh … I … Wanted to … To check you were ok. Ok?” I was a little defensive. I still felt a touch guilty after my session with Bob, and had wanted to be a little more sympathetic than Lizzie Bryar had been.

“I’m doing fine, honey. You know I’m only pregnant, right? I’m not made of glass you know.” She laughed but it only made me cringe. It was one of many clichés that she had just used recently, but since beginning at Paradise County General Hospital I’d began to notice them even more than usual. For example, my secretary is very, very attractive but I wouldn’t do anything with her for fear of playing part in the ‘Boss who just screwed his secretary’ cliché. This would only add to more clichés regarding the wife at home.

“Uh … Okay … I was just checking. I have to go I’ve got a client. Love you darling, bye” I slammed the phone down before she could get another word in. I hoped I hadn’t hurt her feelings, but honestly, I did have a client waiting.

Beth kindly ushered in my eleven o’clock. She smiled at me, it made me tingle a little, and it brightened my day. The smile kept me going, it seemed to spur me on, I offered advice with a hint of unusual optimism and for once, my lunch tasted good. I put it down to feeling glad that she’d forgiven me, well; it is the only explanation, isn’t it?

I felt cheerful right up until my last patient, which was Gerard. It had become necessary for me to see him every day, which meant that for the time being my weekends were sacrificed. Technically, only an hour and the time it takes to travel there and back needs to be sacrificed, but I tend to make … Detours.

“Hey Gerard, have you seen Frank today?” I enquire.

“Which one?” He moped. The question put me in a compromising position. I mean honestly, what do I say? ‘The real one’? ‘The one you made up’? ‘The guy in the coma’? ‘Your imaginary friend’? I decided on a safe option.

“Either” I replied, feeling a little smug with my answer.

“Both” He scowled.

“Oh”, I was stuck again, “Did … He force himself, again?”

“No, this time I wanted him to see. To see himself lying in the hospital bed. To see himself dying.” He seemed quite nonchalant with his answer.

“What do you mean by that?” I fall back on my psych clichés.

“I mean, I went up to the ward and told Frank, as in the guy in my head, to look at Frank, as in the guy in the bed” He stared holes into my forehead, not once in the conversation did he take his eyes off of me.

“I have a duty to tell you that the person in your head is not the same man that’s lying upstairs in a coma” I say formally, I add just for good measure, “You’re ill Gerard. I’m here to help you.”

“Maybe so, but you’re not really doing a good job, are you?” The question was asked in an innocent manner but it stung. It made me realise what little good I do to help is wasted every time he goes to see his sleeping lover. As much as it stung, it gave me a good idea; if Gerard seemed to get worse because of his visits to Frank then I’d just have to do something about them. I’d have to see how Gerard acts during the visits. The one thing I vowed not to do was take them away completely, because although they may make him worse, I’m sure they’re the only thing keeping him alive.

“Gerard, I have an idea. It may help me to help you. Want to hear it?” Oh God, please say yes Gee.

“Sure, can’t do much more harm than the valium did.” He smiled slightly; it was nice to finally know what they both looked like when they smirked, I’d now seen both Frank and Gerard’s smile.

“Well, I think you should see Frank again today,” Gerard’s eyes lit up as I said this, because normally he was only given an hour a day with him, today he had another chance to see him, “Why don’t you introduce us, so to speak”

“You mean, I get to visit him twice a day? If I take you?” I didn’t have the heart to say it would probably only be for today, so all I did was nod. I’d sort something out; make sure he had his two hours.

“Ok, lets go” I signalled to the door, and watched as Gerard practically floated with glee towards it. I guess now was as good a time as any to meet the real Frank. He’s probably quieter than the fake one.

Gerard was incredibly chatty as we walked towards the elevator. He’d begun to tell me about his routine, the things he’d do everyday for Frank. For example, he’d brush his hair and trim the light beard that Frank had started to grow since he’d fallen into his coma. He told me that he liked to sing to Frank, that the two of them were going to start up a band with his brother Mikey and go on to the big time.

He’d also started making plans for the extra hour he’d been given. As we walked along Franks ward he told me that he’d maybe start reading him a book, or that he might write songs to play for him. He grew excited as he considered ringing Mikey and asking him to bring in his guitar. I warned him that it may not be a good idea considering Franks temper, he seemed to agree but it had evidently put a dampener on his plans.

“We’re near his room, it’s just round the corner” He beamed. I hadn’t asked for directions at all on the way to Franks bedside, Gerard had lead the way and I had blindly followed. Gerard seemed quite cheerful, that is, until we reached Franks room and found it deserted apart from machines surrounding the place where a bed used to be.