by Kristen Rose
Verdad pulls his eyes away from his computer, stretching his neck backwards, it cracks with gratification. The stretch moves gracefully from his neck through to his shoulders until it reaches the tips of his fingers. He allows his lungs to inhale a magnified quantity of air, oxygen rushes to his brain, his heartbeat slows. He leans back into his velvet chair resting his back and studies the room.
It houses some expensive treasures. Verdad sits behind a deep mahogany desk on a matching chair upholstered in blood red velvet. An ensemble of magnificent bookcases cover the right side of the room from ceiling to floor, each one overflowing with books on all facets of interests. A fresh pile with their spines still in pre-purchased condition sit on a polished table next to an antique chair opposite the row of bookcases. The books possessing a common subject; personality disorders. The outermost book on the pile is open halfway and resting upside down, marking the page that it had been abandoned on, a pair of oval, black framed glasses balance on top of it. Warm yellow light shines from a red lamp on the other side of the table, highlighting the fact the space was recently occupied.
Verdad’s eyes rest on the pile of books that sit solely on the small table at the other side of the room. He moves to get up out his chair but stops when his mobile begins to ring.
The Nokia ring tone sings its way out of his ebony jacket. He pulls one hand away from the desk and reaches inside his pocket until it grasps the shiny black phone. He looks at it the screen; the name of the caller sends his heart racing.
‘Verdad.’ His voice calm.
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘It’s about time. You said you would have an answer within a few weeks.’ He spits.
‘Calm down, I’m only a few weeks late. You wanted it to be done properly, and as I recall you told me to take as long as I needed.’
‘Yes yes, alright. Sorry, I’m just a little anxious that’s all. So, tell me, what’s the diagnosis?’
‘Well, I don’t know what kind of training Dr Granger had, or what he spoke to Jenny about in order to doubt his initial diagnosis, but in my professional opinion, and I have a degree from one of the finest universities in the country, she is certainly not what I would call mentally healthy.’
Silence.
Verdad halts for a moment. ‘So, she does have a disorder?’
‘Yes. Sorry Marcus, I can tell you were hoping for a different conclusion.’
‘You’re sure? I mean, did you try everything?’
‘I tried every test and technique we have, they all came back with bad results. I even put her in an isolated, fully monitored ward for an entire month in order to see if she would crack or accidentally slip up but she didn’t. In my opinion no one, not even the best actor in the world, could keep up this kind of charade. Not for seven years. I’m sorry but, it looks like she’s here to stay.’
‘Does she act at all like her old self, I mean, like the Jenny I described to you?’
‘No, but like I said a several weeks ago, it is hard for me to comment on that, having never met her until now. I tried to talk to her about her life before entering the hospital. Everything she told me was a heavily fantasised version of the reality she used to live but there was no mention of you at all. I even prompted her, I asked about past relationships but she just fed me this silly rot. Chances are, she’s either forgotten you completely or simply chosen to ignore all memories from the past that actually meant something to her. Narcissists have trouble recognising true emotion, if thoughts of you bring emotion to her, then she’s probably eliminated them until they no longer appear to exist.’ There was more silence, Verdad’s face disbelieving.
‘Isn’t this a good thing though?’ She continues, ‘I mean, this means she can’t possibly be a threat to you. You should be out celebrating.’
‘Celebrating!’ Verdad yells. ‘Are you mad, how can I celebrate the fact that the only person who ever meant anything to me at all, the only person who still means something to me, is sick. I will never mean anything to her again, never.’ His face droops.
‘Calm down, look, I know this is hard to hear, and it will be hard for quite some time but eventually you’ll get over it, you’ll move on. I’m sure there is someone waiting for you, somewhere. You just have to be pati ...’
‘Don’t feed me your psychology crap, that’s not what I’m paying you for.’ He yells.
‘Then don’t get angry at me for doing my job properly.’
Verdad takes a second to calm down before resuming the conversation. ‘I don’t believe you.’ He says weakly.
‘Oh, Marcus, come on. How many more diagnoses do you need? There are other psychologists that work here too and I have asked all of them for their personal opinions as well, all of them. They agree with me.’
‘I have to see her for myself.’
‘What! No, I won’t allow that. Do you know what sort of damage that could do? I don’t know what it was you did to her in the first place to make her leave you, but if she’s like any other woman she probably doesn’t want to see you again.’
‘I thought you said she didn’t remember me.’
A sigh erupted out of the ear piece. ‘I said she most likely has made herself forget you, that doesn’t mean that deep down she has forgotten.’ She explains.
‘Good, then that means that deep down the real Jenny might still be there.’ He decides.
‘Oh, okay, and what do you propose to do when you see her, if she agrees to it that is.’
‘She will agree to it because you will make her.’ He leans back.
‘I will certainly not!’
‘You will if you don’t want to end up like Granger.’ He threatens.
‘What do you mean, “end up like Granger?” I thought you paid him off …”
‘You’ll find out soon enough.’ He smirks.
‘What do you mean?’ Her voice is firmer.
‘Buy a copy of tomorrow’s newspaper, then you’ll know what I mean.’
‘You can’t threaten me. I can go to the police at any time.’ Her voice trembles.
‘Yes you can, but I can guarantee you won’t make it out of your street before something unfortunate happens to you if you do that. Now, as soon as I am able to clear some time in my schedule I will be on my way down there to pay her a visit. You may be a psychologist but you don’t know Jenny, not like I do. I need to see this for myself.’ He puts a hand to his head.
‘Alright then, and when you realise the truth do you think you will be able to accept it. She is different. And if you have to come all the way down here to realise that in order to get this stupid angelic image of her out of your head then by all means go ahead.’
‘Thank you, and when I prove you wrong then you might just have to resume looking for another job, if I decide to keep you alive that is.’
‘What makes you think you have the capability to get me fired?’
‘The fact I’m responsible for them hiring you in the first place is a pretty good reason. Without me prompting them, they would’ve thrown your application in the shredder. You’re reputation isn’t as good as you think it is.’ He smirks.
‘And neither is yours. Look, I want out. I’m happy to keep an eye on her for you but as soon as the police are off your back I don’t want anything more to do with your business. Okay?’
‘Sounds good to me. I’ll be glad to get rid of you.’ He retorts.
‘There is one condition though.’ She says.
‘Excuse me, who’s the boss here?’ He scoffs.
‘I keep this job, and you keep paying me to keep my mouth shut.’ She is overly confident.
‘Come on Deborah, you know far too well what I do with black mailers. I’ve never paid anyone to keep their mouth shut, ever, and I don’t intend to start any time soon.
‘You can keep the job, but that’s it.’ He finishes. ‘And I think that’s more than generous.’
‘You’re an evil soul Marcus, I’m glad I’m not you.’
‘You can only be an evil soul if
you have one, and I don’t.’ He laughs.
‘Whatever helps you live with yourself.’
‘I think this conversation is over, don’t you? Remember to keep me posted if anything out of the ordinary occurs. And especially if she gets any other visitors, besides me’
‘Fine.’ She is short.
‘Good bye.’ Verdad hangs up before receiving another reply and tosses the phone onto his desk, face livid.
Once calm, he turns his computer off, gathers up his paperwork along with the pile books splayed on the small side table at the front of the room and strides out of the house into the dark night.
