Floyd met him just in the lobby with a cart covered by a sheet, under which they hid everything but the suit. As Floyd wheeled it away to a safe place, Josh headed to the locker room. There, he stored the suit in his locker, pausing only to smile wryly at the poster taped inside the locker door—a photoshopped picture of Joshua in a mind-meld with Mr. Spock from the old Star Trek. In large, 50’s-movie lettering, it read, “Joshua Lawson—Psychic Psychiatrist!” At the bottom was the caption, “I feel your pain.” He was pretty sure Dr. Hoffman had made it and taped it to his locker. For a day, Joshua had left it up, with an addition of his own: a sticky note saying, “I Want to Know What You’re Thinking,” but now it resided inside his locker door. He thought about putting it back out with a new caption, but he didn’t have the will.
Sometime today, he would have to talk with Deryl. He was looking as forward to that about as much as he was looking forward to seeing Sachiko before six.
The day, however, turned out surprisingly good. He worked on case studies—he suspected Malachai was loading them on him to keep him away from live patients—until Floyd knocked on his door.
“Edith is looking for you.”
He gathered up his papers and headed to her office, not knowing what to expect. When he opened the door and saw Deryl’s aunt and uncle seated on her couch, he stopped dead in his tracks. Kate, Deryl’s aunt, looked like she’d been crying.
“What did you do to our nephew?” Douglas asked.
He couldn’t help himself; he glanced at the clock. Seven hours. Please, oh please, God, let them let me finish the day. “I’m sorry. I—I lost my temper. It was unprofessional of me, I know, I just, I really—“
Kate stood suddenly and threw her arms around him, cutting off any further reply. “You dear, you angel,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion.
He threw a confused look to Edith, saw her biting a back a smile at his chagrin. “You haven’t seen him today, have you?” she asked.
“Uh, no.” He disentangled himself from Deryl’s aunt, who apologized, murmuring something about pregnancy hormones. “He’s OK? I’m not fired?” The last slipped out before he could stop himself.
“Go see for yourself. But if you ever yell at a patient again, you will find yourself using your psychiatric skills to convince people to ‘Biggie Size’ their order.” Her smile belied her stern threat, and he paused only long enough to drop off his file and shake Douglas’ hand before heading back down the hall to Deryl’s room.
The door was slightly ajar. On the doorknob was a long, hanging sign: Mad genius at work—Enter at your own risk. He peeked at the other side: Do Not Disturb—I’m disturbed enough already! He recognized it as one of the gifts Clarissa had given Deryl at the hospital, passed to him via a nurse and with the approval of Edith and his uncle and aunt. He pushed open the door and again stopped in his tracks.
The room wasn’t just clean; it was immaculate. Even the posters gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the open window. The bed was neatly made, with the bear sitting defiantly in the middle of the evenly placed pillows. Stuff had been rearranged on the shelves; the books on military tactics and history were gone, replaced by the schoolbooks and paperbacks Joshua had lent him, as well as the first Harry Potter book. Clarissa’s doing? Joshua thought. I wonder if Deryl’s got Malachai pegged as Snape or Voldemort? Deryl sat at the desk, dressed in a clean shirt tucked into jeans, his hair shining and combed and gathered into a leather tie-back—yet another gift from his new friend. He was writing steadily, but turned when he heard Joshua enter.
“’Bout time,” he greeted the intern. “Did you have a nice morning hiding in that cubby hole you’re calling an office?”
Joshua had long since given up asking how he knew these things. “It works.” He did his best to sound casual, as if the sudden change was nothing unexpected.
Deryl rolled his eyes. “Do I need to add references on this report? I’m not sure I learned how.”
“We’ll hit that next time. It’s really just a matter of form.” He realized he still hadn’t fully entered the room, but Deryl saved him the trouble by getting up and stretching, though gingerly, in deference to his stitches.
“Want to go for a walk? I’m getting tired of sitting around.”
Outside in the commons, away from monitoring devices or prying ears, Deryl confessed, “I don’t know whether to be angry at you or thank you.”
“Let’s just forget it, then. It’s been a rough week for both of us. So you’ve decided to Sha-mooze the staff?”
Deryl gave him a sour look. “And I’m the one who’s locked up.” He sighed. “You were right. If I want to get out of here, I have to do it by the book. Speaking of which—or, thinking of which, in this case—he’s Snape; I’ve got someone more vicious in mind for Voldemort.” Then he laughed at his own private joke. “So, you ready for tonight?”
Now Joshua sighed, a gusty release of nervous energy. “Yeah. As long as my voice doesn’t crack and she doesn’t throw flowers in my face, I should be fine. You going to be there?”
“In the background. I don’t want anyone distracted by the presence of a patient.” For the first time, he set a reassuring hand on Joshua’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. She loves you. She’s just afraid to admit it. Oh—but get her a cappuccino. She’ll need it.”
*
Sachiko glanced at the clock opposite the nurses’ station and stifled a groan. Almost 6:00. Two hours to go. She stretched to relieve the tightness in her neck. Thank heavens Jared was coming to relieve her early tonight. She needed sleep. The last time she’d worked double shifts was as an ER nurse, where the constant emergencies kept her awake and active while on duty, and able to crash hard once she got to bed. The more sedate schedule here just seemed to drain her, yet left her too keyed up to get to sleep when she got home.
It’s not just that, and you know it, she growled to herself. She’d lain in bed looking at her phone, aching to call and apologize but not knowing how or what to say; begging for it to ring and for Joshua’s voice to be on the other end. After that one subtle attempt to get her to open up at work, he’d pretty much stayed away from her. When he did speak to her, he was cool, professional, and always in the company of others.
Serves you right. “Let’s keep our relationship out of the workplace.” We know where we got that crap, don’t we? She rubbed her eyes until the tears that threatened to surface subsided.
“You gonna make it?” Monique asked lightly.
“No.” Sachiko heaved herself to her feet. “I’m going down to the cafeteria.”
“You can’t!” Monique’s voice held panic. She didn’t look at Sachiko so much as past her and down the hall.
“Monique, I’ll only be gone for a few minutes. I’m tired, I’m achy, and I’ve had a rotten week. All I want to do is stretch my legs and get a—”
“Cappuccino?” concluded a warm voice behind her. She spun and caught her breath.
There was Joshua, dressed as he had been for her party—the night of their first kiss—right down to the earring. He leaned against the counter, and there was no mistaking the gorgeous, come-on look in his eyes. In one hand he held a Styrofoam cup. Her peripheral vision picked up Floyd behind him with a covered cart, and others nearby, but for a moment her mind didn’t take them in.
“Uh, yes, as a matter of fact. Thanks.” She reached for it, but he pulled it away teasingly. Then, with a courtly gesture, he invited her to sit in the chair they’d wheeled out of the conference room—the big comfortable one she’d joked was the real reason Dr. Malachai hosted long meetings.
He was so close to her, smiling in a way that made her insides melt. She wanted to run. She wanted to drive him away with some cutting remark. She wanted to throw her arms around him. She didn’t move. He waited, his eyes locked on hers. About twenty people had gathered.
“Please?” he asked quietly. “Trust me?”
She squared her shoulders, brushed back a stray lock of hair
from her face, and took the drink. With as much dignity as she could muster, she sat in the proffered chair. Floyd had set a small table beside it for her coffee, and she set it there after a large swallow. As she did, Joshua pressed a button on his synthesizer and a romantic, upbeat tune she didn’t recognize began playing. He took a bouquet of flowers off the cart and leaned in close to place them in her arms.
“Careful of the roses,” he said in a soft voice meant only for her. “They have thorns.” Then he backed up and began to sing, a song she hadn’t heard before.
*
When Dr. Malachai saw people heading toward the nurses’ station, he dismissed it as coincidence. Surely if anything important were happening, he’d have been informed. Then he heard the music and Joshua’s singing and, with a practiced gait that took him at almost a run without making him seem in a hurry, headed over to see—and stop—the young man’s shenanigans. He’d gotten just close enough to see the backs of the crowd and make out Joshua’s words, when Deryl suddenly appeared, blocking his way.
Barely acknowledging the client, he stepped to the left.
Deryl followed, again blocking him.
He stepped right. So did Deryl.
“You owe her,” the young man said clearly and slowly, his tone hinting at hidden knowledge and open resolve.
Dr. Malachai gave Deryl a smile, which the boy mocked. With a bland expression, gritting his teeth, he stayed still and silent.
*
At first, Sachiko thought Joshua was just apologizing, singing about how some player had broken her heart and that he’d once been a player, too; but then, he started in about how he found the other part of his soul in her eyes, and that he loved her. As she sat there, torn in her own conflicting desires, he knelt on one knee, pressed a small box into her hand and sang,
I don’t want a passing romance, gone as summer went
I want a lifetime’s love, I want a holy covenant
I’ll give you my moments, my days, my ‘till death do us part
Roses should have thorns, but I promise through the years
Whenever you feel pain, I’ll kiss away your tears
If you’d
Trust my heart
Believe my words
A love like ours could rock this world
It’s a scary road to ride on, but the place to start
Is to trust my words
Believe my heart
Believe my words
Trust your heart
He stopped singing and she just stared at him. She knew she looked like an idiot, but she couldn’t make herself move, make herself believe this, this…wonder…was happening. The music came to a close. She could hear people shifting restlessly. Still, she didn’t move.
He smiled a timid smile and squeezed her hand over the box. “Just think about it,” he said, giving her an out. “I’ll be in the break room.” He got up, took three steps back as if she were royalty, then turned and strode down the hall. Floyd followed, rolling the cart that held the synthesizer.
As soon as they rounded the corner, it was as if a spell had been broken. Sachiko was able to breathe again, and everyone crowded around her. She ignored them, staring at the little burgundy box in her hands until Edith ordered everyone to give her room. “Do you want to go to my office alone for a few minutes?” she offered.
“No, no, I just...” Her voice trailed off. She was still staring at the box.
“Well, open it!” Monique urged.
When she saw the simple, battered but shined silver band inside, threaded through a silver chain, every wall of ice she’d erected melted at once, crashing down like an iceberg in the warmth of spring. Someone behind her said, “I don’t get it.”
“It’s his great-great-grandfather’s ring.” Somehow, she managed not to choke on the words. Her breathing was fast and shallow and she couldn’t understand why she didn’t just break down crying. Or why she didn’t want to.
Edith laid a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped as if shocked. “I have to go talk to him,” Sachiko said, and hurried down the hall.
*
As soon as he got to the break room, Joshua gave up all pretenses of composure and made a beeline for the soda machine. God, oh, God, please don’t let me have made a fool of myself for nothing. The image of her face haunted him. He’d imagined a lot of reactions over the last week, from her throwing her arms around him in joy, to throwing the flowers, ring and all at him in fury, but he hadn’t anticipated the way she just stared at him like he’d grown another head. Please, if nothing else, let her understand.
He didn’t realize how his hands were shaking until his third unsuccessful try at shoving a dollar into the slot. Floyd carefully took the bill, pulled it straight and inserted it into the machine. He hit the button and even popped the tab before handing Joshua his Diet Coke. Joshua tried to smile his thanks, but his desperation must have been showing—the older orderly laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s goin’ to be all right. You were righteous. She was just surprised.”
“She wasn’t the only one,” came a voice from the doorway. They turned to see Dr. Malachai. He stood in what was probably meant to be a casual pose, but it was ruined by his stern expression.
Here it comes, Joshua thought. He took a large sip of his soda.
“Floyd, I’d like a few words in private with our young intern, if you don’t mind.” The tone of his voice said it hardly mattered if the orderly did mind.
Nonetheless, Floyd turned to Joshua, a question in his eyes.
“Thanks for your help, man,” Joshua held out a fist. Floyd tapped it with his. Then, with a nod to the chief psychiatrist, he left the two alone.
For a long moment, Malachai stood with the room between them, regarding Joshua with a not-quite-challenging stare. Joshua stared back, leaning against the machine. Malachai’s presence was actually a relief, in a way; it gave him something to focus on other than Sachiko’s expression. In the back of his mind, he could hear the familiar theme from the shootout scene of an old Western. I’m not blinkin’, pardner.
Malachai broke the silence. “Have a seat, Mr. Lawson.”
The chief psychiatrist pulled up a metal chair and sat in it, leaning back in a practiced, nonchalant way. Joshua sat with elbows on the table and eyes on his soda. He didn’t feel like playing psych games. Just get it over with.
“Well, it would seem we have a similar taste in women.”
So you were making the moves on her at that party! It was not what Joshua expected, and the words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying: “Had your shot, sir.”
To his surprise, Malachai laughed, acting for all the world like they were just two guys discussing chicks. “And this is your shot, I suppose? Embarrassing her and yourself in front of people who may one day become your colleagues, just to satisfy your flair for the theatrical?”
Oh, don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel. “Sachiko understands.”
“Does she? How well do you really know her?”
Joshua was starting to tire of Malachai’s superior attitude. He gave the older man his most knowing glare. “Enough.”
Malachai cocked a brow. “And it doesn’t bother you, being Catholic and all? I’d have thought—”
Joshua didn’t want to hear anything from him about the woman he loved. “The past is the past. I’m the present and I want to be the future.”
The psychiatrist threw his hands in the air, the way Josh’s mother sometimes did when she was exasperated. “As you wish. But are you sure you’re not making a rash decision? After all, this isn’t the first time you’ve rushed into something that later turned out to be disastrous.” Surprise must have shown on Joshua’s face, for he hastily added, “Your father told me about LaTisha Dane before you arrived here. He was concerned, and asked that I keep an eye on you. I didn’t feel the need to mention it.”
Joshua was suddenly thankful for Sachiko’s discretion at work, and glad that he’d alr
eady told his parents all about her and his plans. But he didn’t like Malachai thinking his feelings for Sachiko were anything like those he’d had for LaTisha. He leaned back, matching the other’s posture and superior attitude. “Sir, I take it you’ve never been married? Engaged? Truly in love?”
“Are you implying that I wouldn’t understand?” Malachai’s smile twisted sickly for a moment. Joshua chose to ignore it.
“It’d make it easier to explain. With LaTisha, I was, well, obsessed, really. I let things slide because I just wanted to be with her, because I felt so good around just her. It was kind of like a drug, really. I felt more of a man, but I was becoming less of a person. With Sachiko, it’s like a part of me I didn’t know was empty is suddenly filled. Being near her, even at work, is the best part of my day, but I’m also just driven to do more and better in everything else, whether it concerns her directly or not. I’m more of a person, and more of a man, because of her.”
“And if she doesn’t feel the same about you?”
The pain and fear of that thought, now voiced, pierced him, and he had to stop before replying. He covered as best he could by taking a large gulp of Diet Coke. “Then I’m still better off for having known her, and I hope that this experience helps her realize that she deserves someone who’ll risk everything for her; that she’s worthy of true, enduring love.”
“Poetic. But interesting you should mention risk.”
‘Bout time. Just act natural.
When Joshua didn’t react, Malachai continued, again with exasperation, “What are we to do with you, Joshua? Your work has been acceptable, particularly considering your youth and inexperience, but your professionalism on the job…Do you realize in the month you’ve been here, you’ve dressed down the orderlies, flirted with the nurses, allowed an unauthorized person access to a client, and acted as if you were the peer of the people who should be your mentors?”
I’ve also been instrumental in the recovery of one client and the progress of another, sat death watch for a third, been hit with a chair protecting a client, and created a training video on an innovative method that—who’d have thought it?—works, he thought angrily, though he didn’t say anything. It’d only sound defensive if Malachai was going to fire him, and boastful if not. Instead, he sipped his soda and waited for the hammer to fall.
Mind Over Mind Page 30
