He shifted into a less comfortable position on her very comfortable couch. “So what’s the deal with Ydrel? How much does he have to do with my being here?”
She didn’t answer immediately, but pulled out a large file—it took two hands to carry—and set it on the table in front of Josh. “I really should put it on CD. This is a summary of the highlights of Ydrel’s time here. I have an entire drawer on him, and Randall has even more, I’m sure.
“He’s incredibly difficult to pin down, diagnostically. In fact, I won’t even tell you his current designation. I want to see what you come up with. Regardless of how we label him, the key lies in what keeps him here: He’s hooked on this delusion that he’s psychic, and what makes it worse is that he’s such a good reader of people, he can make it seem true.”
Joshua shrugged. “Lots of people make money using ‘psychic’ abilities. Some of them probably even believe they have powers.”
“Ydrel doesn’t stop at ‘reading’ someone. He internalizes what he picks up, and not just emotionally, either. We have to be very careful who we put in the rooms next to him. Twice we had someone on suicide watch in the next room, only to find Ydrel trying to kill himself. Several times, he’s begged me to move someone. Once, he said the girl was ‘making him’ violent—and in fact, she did attack several clients in the common room—and another time, he said he was thinking suicidal thoughts. Again, Ydrel was right. You’ve seen his reaction to Mr. Goldstein.”
“So how is he around, well, regular people?”
Edith smiled sadly. “The one time he left on a family visit, it…didn’t go well. He’s not been out since. No one knows how he’d react to a crowd. His family is afraid he’d hurt himself, more than anything. The staff is concerned he’ll encounter someone really troubled—whether a street person or a criminal—and pick up that persona. More and more, too, Dr. Malachai and some of the others on the board are concerned that, if given a chance, he’d try to escape.” She sounded doubtful, almost regretful.
“But he won’t escape,” she concluded. “He doesn’t think he has anywhere he can go. I’ve been working his case for the last three years, and every year, I see him becoming more and more hopeless. He’s being convinced he’s a freak with no place in the outside world.
“That’s where you come in, Joshua. I want you to give him back hope.”
Joshua felt his jaw drop. He tried to hide it by smiling. “Really?”
She sat on the couch opposite him. The file sat on the table between them and she idly ran her hands over the cover as she collected her thoughts. “Ydrel has spent some of the most formative years of his life surrounded by mentally troubled clients and the mental health staff—hardly a typical cross-section of the population.” She quirked a smile, then turned serious. “Most of the clients are in their late twenties or older. He hasn’t been around a single mentally healthy person his age since he was first committed. But given his situation…I was discussing his case with your father—with Doug and Kate’s permission, of course—”
“—and he suggested me.” Joshua couldn’t keep the disappointment out of his voice. He’d thought they’d come to an agreement on that sort of thing.
But Edith looked up sharply in a way that he’d learned meant he was insultingly off-base. “Your father suggested an intern, and when I told him the resistance I’ve met in starting such a program, he suggested you might be able to change some attitudes. I meant it when I said you’re good—even exceptional. Some of the staff already knew you by reputation from papers you’d published with your father—and were amazed to learn your age. If you prove yourself here, it would benefit you and help future interns. Nonetheless, setting up this program has been a lot of headache for me, and frankly, I did it with Ydrel in mind.
“I know that’s not what you were expecting. Your internship is more than just his case. But, frankly, he needs someone his own age, someone he can relate to. If you could make him believe he can have a life outside those gates—” She let the sentence hang and just looked at him. He met her eyes for a moment, then studied his shoes. Silence stretched out between them.
Finally, he broke it. “Any ideas?”
She smiled and let out a breath. “The usual psychological methods won’t work. That’s certain. Ydrel was right when he made the crack about my giving him a friend. He needs someone to just be a friend. Not a doctor, not a mentor, not an intern. Don’t study him. Treat him like you might treat a new roommate, maybe a foreign-exchange roommate who’s suffering from culture shock. Help him understand that he can adapt if he tries. If you come up with any ideas, run them by me. I’ll give you as much leeway in this as I can.”
“And Dr. Malachai?” He was Ydrel’s primary caregiver.
“You let me handle Randall.”
So he’s not too keen on your plan. He’d guessed that from their conversation earlier. That only motivated Joshua more. He thought carefully about his next words. Edith, he’d learned, was a person who thought in feelings and visuals, and he knew to convince her, he’d need to meet her on that level. “I’m very excited about this internship—I see it as a clear chance to both learn psychology and practice it, outside my father’s influence. I can’t promise not to do that when I’m with Ydrel. I’ll see what I can do about befriending him, though frankly, if we’d had a run-in like that in the dorms, I’d be looking for a new roommate.” He smiled, and she smiled in return. “I’ll try. I’ll clear what I can with you, but if I see an opportunity to help him, I’m going for it. I can promise not to use the ‘usual’ psychotherapeutic methods, though, and I can promise to try to make him feel he has a life outside these walls.”
“Fair enough.” Edith rose and handed him a binder from atop the cabinet. “This is your first study assignment. I’m going to call it a day. You’re welcome to stay; just lock up and sign out with the guards know when you leave.”
She hung up her lab coat, grabbed her purse and started for the door. Then she stopped, and with a thoughtful look on her face, reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out the plastic flask. She regarded it wistfully.
Joshua stopped flipping through the case studies in the binder to look at her.
“You know,” she mused, “this is probably one of the few times someone’s tried to treat him like any other teenager, and I had to take it away from him.”
“It’s the thought that counts?” Joshua ventured.
“Perhaps.” She crossed to him and set the flask in the desk drawer beside him. “Still, it’s such a shame.” She met his eyes expectantly.
He glanced at her, at the drawer. “Kind of a wasted opportunity.”
She smiled. “Just lock the door when you leave.”
“Will do.”
CHAPTER 3
Two hours later, Joshua sighed, stretched and looked at the clock. Almost 8 p.m. He’d read through a couple of the cases he was immediately interested in, but not Ydrel’s file. He had no intention of wading through that mess unless it was absolutely necessary. Still, he wasn’t tired and he certainly didn’t have anything to go home to. Idly, he opened the desk drawer.
It would probably be quiet on the floor, especially in “minimum security.” He slipped the flask into his pocket and headed to Ydrel’s room.
Everything did seem quieter, more muted, in the evening. The corridor lights had even been dimmed slightly. This place has class, Joshua thought, then sighed slightly. This place has money. He wondered how much it cost to “stay” here. They certainly didn’t stint the staff, if his internship pay was any indication. Still, he wondered what could be accomplished with the money that had gone to the “little touches” if it were allocated to a public facility instead.
Then he smiled as he heard Rique’s voice in his head, “Yeah? You tellin’ me when we hit it big, you just gonna give all your money away?”
He stopped at Ydrel’s door. A heavy set orderly passed by and eyed him suspiciously. Joshua smiled at him. For a moment, Joshua thought
the other man might stop and challenge his presence there, but the orderly just nodded once and continued on his way. Joshua raised his hand to knock, but Ydrel’s voice interrupted him.
“Don’t bother knocking. The door’s open and it’s not like I have any say, anyway.”
“It’s your room,” he replied as he walked in. He whistled at the sight of it: posters, books, a ragged stuffed bear leaning against a lamp—and the dirty clothes on the floor, the shoes lying askew in a corner as if flung in that particular direction, the dirty dishes on the headboard. “You’ve made sure of that, I see.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage.” Ydrel was reclining on his bed, propped up with pillows, reading. He didn’t look up, but he snorted. “Never mind. Just a passive-aggressive response to my incarceration. So, you going to make me your pet project?” His voice held venom.
“Yeah,” Joshua said, taking the chair by the door. “And the first thing we’re going to do is give you an attitude adjustment. You’ll never have any friends if you keep acting like a jerk.”
“Any ‘normal’ friends, you mean, and I won’t have any ‘normal’ friends anyway. Just addicts and crazies and do-gooders who’ll make me their ‘cause.’”
No use trying to deny it right now. Joshua rubbed two fingers together. When Ydrel didn’t look up from his book, Joshua said, “Hear that? The world’s smallest violin playing your pity-me song. Probably ‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to.’”
Ydrel set down the book with a thump. “You always treat patients this way?”
“No, and that’s the point. Listen, I’ll try to find the number for Jerks Anonymous later—we can both go. In the meantime, I brought you a birthday gift.” He pulled out the flask.
Ydrel sat all the way up and scooted to the edge of the bed, crossing his legs and smiling a genuine smile this time. “Bless that Edith. Sometimes she can surprise me. I didn’t think she’d give it back.” He reached for the flask.
Joshua pulled it out of reach. “She didn’t. No one did and don’t forget that. And we’d all get in trouble if you got sloppy drunk, so I’ll keep charge of the flask, OK?”
“OK, OK. Half a loaf.” Ydrel stopped reaching, but still leaned forward, his eyes shining with curiosity. “So what’s in it?”
Joshua unscrewed the cap and sniffed. Not like it helped. “Darned if I know.”
“Well, here’s our chance to find out. Come in and shut the door!” Ydrel called suddenly, although no one had knocked.
Sure enough, the door opened and a short, black-haired nurse stepped in. “You know I can’t do that,” she scolded.
“We’re chaperoned,” Ydrel countered and pointed to Joshua, who stood to introduce himself.
“Hi, I’m—” Whoa, dark, exotic eyes. “I’m Joshua Lawson,” he finished, his voice a little quieter and deeper than when he’d started.
She smiled and nodded coolly. She had a smooth round face with slightly flattened cheeks. She was slight and short—he stood a full head taller, and she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze—yet there was an easy confidence in her stance that said size did not intimidate her. And those eyes. He could drown in those eyes.
“Sachiko Luchese,” she said, her tone cool and professional, but Joshua heard violins, low and mellow. He fought the urge to close his eyes and bask in the tone. He realized with a start that she was watching him expectantly. Tongue-tied, he just smiled at her.
She sighed, and took on a long-suffering look. “My father was Air Force, stationed in Misawa Air Base Japan, and my mother was a local civilian working with the housing office. Obviously, I take after her in appearance. And no La Familia Luchese jokes.”
She seemed to expect a response, but he was having problems concentrating past the music of her voice. “Really? OK.”
“So you’re the new intern?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Finally, he remembered his manners, only to kick himself a half-second later for treating her like some kind of elder.
She didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze slid down his arm and she raised an eyebrow. “And is this some new treatment they’re teaching in college these days?”
He was still holding the flask where anyone could see. He started to shove it behind his back, realized how stupid that would look, aborted the move and tried to speak instead, “Uh—”
“Yes!” Ydrel exclaimed before Joshua could embarrass himself further. “It’s called ‘treating Ydrel like a normal person.’ Now, are you in or not?”
“And who knows about this?” She regarded each of them with crossed arms and a stern look. In an effort to retrieve some of his dignity, Joshua spoke before Ydrel could.
“Edith, Dr. Sellars, is turning a blind eye—”
“And Malachai doesn’t know a thing!” Ydrel finished, smiling wickedly at Sachiko. “Can you imagine how he’d react if he ever found out?”
The stern look slowly faded from Sachiko’s face, replaced by a slow, lopsided smile. Joshua had to look away before he said or did anything even more stupid. It was such a cute smile. She stepped a little further into the room and shut the door. “So what’s in it?”
“No idea!” Ydrel replied almost gleefully. “Edith swiped it and the conversation changed before my uncle could tell us. You know, that’s got to be the nicest thing he’s ever tried to do for me. I know it’s the thought that counts, but I’m kind of curious about the gift. So would you tell us?” He turned to Joshua. “Sachiko’s father owns a restaurant in Newport, so she grew up learning about the different kinds of liquors. Kind of a connoisseur. Joshua, of course, hasn’t handled anything more than sacramental wine.”
Now it was her turn to reply, “Really?”
He shrugged. “I grew up in a dry house and just never saw a reason to acquire a taste.” He didn’t add that he was underage, and when he was little, he’d seen someone jump into the Arkansas rapids and drown because a couple of beers had impaired his judgment. He handed her the flask and watched as she took a very small sip and rolled it on her tongue. She smiled appreciatively.
“Scotch. Not imaginative, but nicely aged. Smooth. It’ll have a kick you won’t notice until it’s too late. I’ll be right back.” She stuck the flask into her lab coat pocket and left. Joshua couldn’t help following her with his eyes.
No sooner had the door closed than Ydrel sprang up, grabbed Joshua by the shoulder and whirled him around. “Sit down and put your tongue back in your mouth!” he growled.
“What?”
“You heard me. And you listen close to this.” Ydrel stood on the edge of the bed so he could glare down at the taller man. “Sachiko is one of the genuinely good people in this place. She acts tough, but she’s fragile as a Ming vase and if you so much as think about hurting her, I will be on you like a disease. You understand?”
“Listen, you!” Joshua somehow managed to keep his voice low despite the anger rising in him like lava. “There’s no way I’d ever dream of hurting an incredible woman like that, got it? Sit down and chill.”
Ydrel glared at him wildly for a moment, and Joshua belatedly wished he’d read at least enough of the files to know if the young client ever got violent. Then Ydrel’s expression changed, losing its hostility but remaining intense.
Joshua had read in fantasy novels how telepaths looked through a person, but Ydrel seemed to look into him, as if he could see past his skull and read his thoughts in the movement of his synapses. His pupils contracted almost to pinpoints, then moved, just very slightly, down-and-left, up-and-right, small jerky movements in a sea of blue. Joshua continued to glare at him, despite the crawly feeling it gave him. Finally, Ydrel looked away.
“OK, I believe you,” he said as he sat back down. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as though to clear it.
“I’m so relieved.” Joshua’s reply was sarcastic but truthful. He flopped back into the chair. Neither said anything.
It was into that uncomfortable silence that Sachiko entered.
“Di
d I…miss something?” she asked.
Ydrel’s affirmative answer came almost atop Joshua’s negative one. Sachiko glanced first at Joshua, eyebrow raised. Despite everything, his heart fluttered. To cover it, he turned a raised eyebrow at Ydrel, who said nothing, but stared hungrily at the bakery box the nurse held in one hand. When it became obvious she wasn’t going to get any answers, she sighed in exasperation and set the box on the bed. Ydrel cheered as he pulled off the top. Inside were half a dozen small pastries, a pretty shade of green with a delicate icing leaf on each. Ydrel took one of the napkins also in the box, set a sweet on it and handed it to Sachiko. Reluctantly, he handed another to Joshua. “Though I doubt you’ll like it,” he grumbled.
Sachiko explained as she handed him a Dixie cup of the scotch. “They’re a Japanese sweet made with green tea. Don’t worry if you don’t care for the taste. Most Americans wouldn’t. You driving soon?”
“I won’t drink much,” he promised her, then looked at Ydrel. “No more than communion wine on Sunday. How’d you know that, anyway?”
Ydrel rolled his eyes as he took a bite of his treat and followed it with a sip of his birthday contraband. “Doesn’t really go together, does it? Sake would be better. Still, that makes three thoughtful presents in one birthday—that includes you, Joshua.” Ydrel took another bite, smiling blissfully. “Oh, this is so much better than that awful cake.”
Joshua set his pastry aside. Sachiko had been right. “I thought the cake tasted great.”
“I hate chocolate. It was all I could do to choke it down.”
Mind Over Mind Page 3
