Patsy Murray

by Douglas E Roff

  “I earned my high school diploma at an early age, my BS in Computer Sciences a few years later, then my Master’s, and then my Ph.D. I worked for government agencies and private companies as a teen, made my first million by fifteen. I attended CalTech off and on for three years waiting for my girlfriend to graduate. We planned to live together midway between her school, UCLA, and my school, CalTech. She left the next day. She never enrolled at UCLA.

  “Naturally, I spoke to her folks, my folks and all my friends and hers. Nobody said a word, not even my parents. All our families were close; we lived in the same small town in Canada. But they all said that it was her decision, and they were staying out of it. They knew something; they all refused to budge and even give me a hint. I felt abandoned by Misti, my ex, and betrayed by the family I loved. I gave them an ultimatum: tell what is going on or never see me again. I thought I was so tough, so in control that they would fold quickly and give in to my demands.

  “They didn’t.

  “I left the next day, spent two years at CalTech, buried myself in my work and talking to colleagues about starting a new company, the Mindwerks. They all were in, but being practical said how we could get the money to start up? I had told them we were going to New York, that I found some old warehouses we could restore and we’d buy or build all the tech we needed.”

  “Money. Capital,” they all said. “We’ll need ten million just to survive and open the doors.”

  “I told them I had one hundred twenty-three million in the bank, and at least a dozen contracts lined up if they said yes.”

  “We were gone within forty-eight hours. We couldn’t run a lemonade stand properly, so we found my friend and confidant Kalindra Wilson, who we made COO, CFO, Head of HR and all-powerful goddess of our enterprise. We paid her a bundle and she, in turn, did everything we could never do ourselves. She treated us like little children, ordering us around and cracking the whip. But we had benefits, a gym, a pool, mandatory exercise, and later, daycare, employee training, and kids’ activities after school or daycare. Nobody left. Everyone was happy, except me. It was a dark cloud over me, and no matter what I tried, except for therapy now, nothing changed. I never dated women and was celibate from age twenty to age twenty -eight. I met Lola, my fiancé around then but it was two women I met in a bar fight who convinced me that celibacy was unhealthy.

  “Lola’s parents owned a restaurant, ‘Mama Luigi’s’ in Brooklyn and Lola waited tables. The family was close and lived in the space above the restaurant, but Lola was an incorrigible wild child. She dated the wrong kind of guys, but I saw myself in her. I was attracted to her right away. She had a mouth, an attitude and could curse like a sailor; she fancied herself a tough broad who could take whatever was being dished out, then take some more. But just below the surface I saw the real her; kind and sweet, wanting more, but building walls around her, so she was never exposed to real connections. She could not be hurt because she would not ever let anyone in. To prove it, she dated guys who were neither gentle nor kind.

  “I’m Catholic, and devout, so I went to Mass every Sunday with her parents. I tried hard with Lola, but she showed no interest and told me to leave her alone and mind my own business. I chose not to. I came for dinner every night, hit on her as hard as I could and was totally ignored.

  “One night, I came for dinner, and Lola wasn’t waiting tables. It was Angie Romano instead; I reminded her I came every night for her cooking and to seduce her daughter.

  “She’s upstairs. She’s not feeling well. Maybe we should leave her be tonight.”

  “No, I know the way upstairs to her room. I’ll stop by and say hello.” Lola wasn’t sick; she had been beaten up by her date the night before. She refused to go to the hospital; she had no money.

  “Hey there, gorgeous, what happened here?”

  “Nothing that concerns you. I’m fine.”

  “It concerns me because you are going to marry me one day, and besides, you need medical attention right away.”

  “What, you’re a doctor now? Leave me be. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “Well, technically yes, I can. As far as being a doctor, it’s in computers, not medicine. But I know what see when I see it. So, with your permission, I want to do a cursory exam of your injuries. I promise to behave and be gentle. I won’t touch you anywhere impermissible by a gentleman. OK?”

  “I hurt all over. I’m scared.”

  “Let me help then.

  “But I can’t afford doctors or hospitals. There’s nothing to be done.”

  “Well, you can afford doctor and hospitals now, so let’s worry about what’s wrong first, and worry about money later. Lola was in tears.”

  “I touched her orbital bone, her left arm, her ribs and looked over as much as he could see of what skin was showing. She was cut and badly bruised.”

  “Adam?”

  “We’re going to the hospital right now. You may be dead by morning if we don’t. I’m calling my friend who owns an ambulance service; then we’re off to St. Mark’s. I know the hospital administrator.”

  “She’s an ex-girlfriend?”

  “No. She’s married, and I’m celibate. I’m still waiting for you.”

  “You’re rich and stupid. How does that work?”

  “So far, so good.”

  “We took Lola to the emergency room, I told the Romanos to close the restaurant, and we’d go together and wait. Tilly Franklin, my friend, met us at admittance and I told her I’d cover everything; we can do the paperwork later. I told her I wanted specialists there immediately; I knew she had internal injuries, just not how bad.”

  Tilly asked, “And you know that how?”

  “I just do. I think she has a detached retina and three badly broken ribs. More than one guy did this, so I suggest you pull a rape kit.”

  “Let’s let the ER folk do their job.”

  “An hour later Tilly had the initial report. Lola was in bad shape, my analysis was correct, and she had been raped. Repeatedly. They had pulled the rape kits, taken DNA and called the police; standard procedure.

  “We waited for Lola to come out of surgery and get settled in her private room. A bevy of doctors, all specialists, were now on call and present. I listened in as they spoke to the Romanos. Lola would pull through, but she had multiple surgeries and rehab ahead of her, not counting medications and therapy.”

  Her father asked, “How much. We aren’t wealthy.”

  “I won’t kid you. It will, with this team of physicians and the equipment we’ll need, be well beyond average means. It would bust most insurance policies under the new federal rules since Obamacare has been gutted. I’m sorry, but I don’t think you can afford us.”

  “I said, ‘How much? That’s what the man asked. So how much?”

  “A million, maybe more. Maybe a lot more.”

  “I got out my checkbook and handed over a check for two million dollars.” I turned to the doctors and Tilly.

  “Paid in advance. Tell your families not to expect you home. You’ll be here day and night.”

  “I asked Tony Romano who did this. He didn’t want to answer. Angie said, ‘Jimmy Pulosi.’”

  “Where is he?”

  “Probably at the Kitty Cat Lounge. Couple blocks from here.”

  “Tilly, tell the ER guys and gals to expect a new patient in bad condition, maybe more than one. I’ll be back in an hour.”

  Adam continued, “I called my friend to send a couple of ambulances to the Kitty Cat Lounge, sirens and lights off. Just park. I’d be out promptly. I went in, found Jimmy and his friends, asked them politely to explain what they did to Lola and come along with me nicely. I didn’t touch or threaten them. They told me to fuck off.

  “I spotted two ladies watching the scene and asked if they would video what was going to happen next.”

  “You going to kick his ass?”

  “Maybe a little more than that, but yes. And his b
uddies too.”

  “He’s mean. Be careful.”

  “I’m a nightmare. But I need to prove I didn’t start this.”

  “We have cameras too. I’ll get our friend Mindy to use yours. We’ll get it all on video, from three angles. Speak up, so we get audio.”

  “Thanks. I’ll make this up to you.”

  “Kick his ass, and you’ll have three ladies who will thank you. Anytime. Just whistle.”

  “Movie fan?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “One of my favorites. We should get together some time. I can cook too.”

  “We work nights.”

  “I’ll hire you for the weekend. We can go to Coney Island. A proper date. Proper, meaning no quid pro quo.”

  “What’s that?”

  Her friend said, “It means we don’t have to fuck him. Just a nice time with a nice man.”

  Patsy was now listening carefully and was curious. “What did you do?”

  “I messed Jimmy up pretty bad, broke his nose, his arm and four ribs. Choked him out and made him suffer. His friends thought they could take me when I wasn’t looking, so I did the same to them. I called in the ambulance guys and gals and sent them over to St. Marks.

  “I thanked the ladies, got the videos, and their phone numbers and addresses, then went to the hospital to check on Lola. I paid Phil, the owner of the lounge for the mess; we still talk from time to time. Wanted me to fight a couple of other jamokes, but I said my superhero days were over.

  Lola recovered and we dated. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. My family showed up unannounced for a visit but would not say why. They said I was in danger but never mentioned from who. I told them to leave. A week later, someone blew up the restaurant killing Lola and her parents. I went nuts, flew back to see my family and encouraged them to tell me what they knew. They refused, so I might have used more severe forms of persuasion. They told me what they knew, so I left. I was out of control, so an old friend and Kalindra Wilson checked me in here. I needed help, I knew it, and now I’m getting it. I’ve made friends, and I know I’m not alone. My walls are up again, I feel trapped and alone sometimes, but never when I’m here in a group with all of you. I have a way have to go, but with Dr. Tolan and all of you, I know I’ll make it.”

  One of the men asked, “You did all that?”

  “I did. I have never started a fight in my life. But I know I can hurt, maim or kill anyone. If you leave me be, no worries. But if you hurt the weak and defenseless and I’m around, you better run.”

  Patsy asked, “What’s your count?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea to discuss.”

  “How many?”

  “Will you still be my buddy?”

  “Always.”

  “More than a few.”

  Dr. Tolan asked, “More than a few what?”

  “Men who will never harm another soul. All abusers.”

  “Billy and his buddies?”

  “Died mysteriously. They gang-raped Lola. Brutally. I couldn’t let that pass. The system let them go free.”

  Everybody was stunned. Nobody moved.

  “I need to be here. I need your help. I have issues.”

  Patsy spoke first, “All good by me. Are you making dinner tonight? I’m already starving.”

  Chapter 8

  Several weeks passed, and therapy was progressing nicely. Adam continued to enjoy having his group and therapists over for dinners and arranged for outings just for fun and comradery. His relationship with his buddy Patsy had warmed; both were more comfortable talking about their past, intimacy issues and futures. They had their own non-date, date nights, dinners and beach outings, even a day at the races at Del Mar. It wasn’t unusual for Patsy to spend the night, though in her own room; there was nothing more romantic involved than watching old movies and eating popcorn on the sofa, covered up with a blanket. They were friends without benefits still, and both were comfortable with that arrangement.

  But it was evident that something more than friendship was budding, though it warmed and terrified them both. Each worried that getting closer meant disaster for the other. Adam was gun shy not just about Patsy, but women in general. Relationships didn’t end over time; they just ended without explanation. Patsy felt she couldn’t go through losing another friend and losing Adam, at this point, was beginning to reach the level of ‘unthinkable.’

  Adam arrived early to the group and sat down waiting for Patsy to come. He was now picking her up in the morning but hadn’t yet been invited into her abode; that was fine, she said she much preferred hanging out at his place. Her home was in total disarray anyway, and besides, she wasn’t much on tidiness, cooking or cleaning. She joked he’d need a full spectrum inoculation to survive whatever was growing in her fridge.

  Today was different; she wanted to take the bus. Adam thought it odd; he enjoyed short road trips with Patsy. She was wickedly funny and scathing in her assessment of those in their small circle of amigos. But she only shared her wit with Adam. On drives up the coast to the beach cities, they held hands and acted as if they were married and escaped for the weekend away from the kids for a couple of nights of passion. That’s the story they told; in some part of their minds, they both wished it was so.

  A new girl with blond hair, modest makeup and dark glasses, dressed well for a power job somewhere at some power firm, walked up and asked Adam if the seat next to him was open. He said he didn’t recognize the woman but thought something seemed familiar about her.

  “Sorry, it’s taken. My girlf…, I mean counseling buddy sits next to me. I’m holding it for her.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind lending you to me for one session.”

  “Perhaps, but I would mind. I’d be happy to find another chair for you and squeeze you in.”

  “And if she doesn’t show?”

  “She’ll show. That’s not in doubt. She’d call if she couldn’t make it.”

  “You’re sure, are you?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  “What if she was reassigned to another group, could I join you then?”

  “If she goes, I go.”

  “I see. Then I’ll move as soon as she arrives. I promise.”

  “OK.”

  The woman turned to Adam as she took her seat, “You’re kinda cute. What are you in for?”

  Adam smiled.

  “Deep psychosis; I hoard cans of Raid and obsessively kill ants.”

  “Sounds minor.”

  “Yeah, but then I tried to kill my real Aunt Martha, so off I go to San Diego. I mean, a-n-t and a-u-n-t sound the same, right? Anyone could make that mistake.”

  “Really?”

  “No. I’m an incurable and habitual liar.”

  “I think you’re pulling my leg. Now I’m not so sure what you’re in for. You could be a serial killer. Wheaties, corn flakes, you know.”

  Adam laughed. “Touché. No, just ordinary long-term depression. Garden variety I’m told. Can’t seem to kick it though, so I decided a change in scenery would be a nice change.”

  She smiled.

  “You?”

  “Same. Been six months and my life is still a mess except for a guy I met. He helps me laugh. Miss him when we’re not together. I came here to see who’s crazier, him or me.”

  “And?”

  “Only been here six months. Right now, I think it’s him, but then if I actually was crazy that’s what I’d think, right?”

  “Good point.”

  “I’m William, and you’re …?”

  “Being careful. You could be a liar. You said so yourself. You could be Jeffrey Daumer, and I look like dinner.”

  “You’re not intentionally setting me up for a joke, are you?”

  “Which?”

  “Eating out? Besides, I do cook, which I guess doesn’t help my case. Roast thigh I hear is quite tasty and in season. Stick with your
fella. My friend puts up with me and my stupid jokes.”

  The girl laughed. “You’re very naughty. But I’ll take a chance and sit by you today if she’s a no-show. Tomorrow, maybe I go in a different direction. Maybe an obsessive/compulsive as a change of pace. You seem too normal for me.”

  “Compulsive what? An ant killer like me? I’m sure I can be a great compulsive too.”

  “I’m not sure about that. I’ll have to decide that after today’s session.

  “As I said, I’m Phillip, and you’re …”

  “Very suspicious. First, you said you were William; now you’re Phillip. Your name tag says you’re Adam St. James. I’m going with Adam, and you’re probably confined here for being a habitual liar.”

  “Have it your way. You know, I might have switched name tags with some random guy. It’s possible you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Except I know who you are, and you’re Adam St. James, handsome, rich and a little crazy. From Canada, right?”

  “You have the advantage.”

  “I’m Patsy Murray, the stand-up comedian. Fooled you, didn’t I?”

  “Not for a second. Though I like the look.”

  “Cheating on me.”

  “No way. I was chatty and faithful.”

  “You were flirty.”

  “Just with you.”

  “Good point.”

  “But I can see why you’re here. You’re kinda dull and boring. Lack of a sense of humor and not very creative. Did I mention I like your new look? Very hot.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are so.”

  “I know you are but what am I?”

  “Oh man, I was just going to say that. You stole my line. Cheater. And stealer. Is that a word?”

  “No. You probably cheat at Scrabble too, don’t you? You probably make up words that sound real but aren’t.”

  “How did you know that?”

  “My mother warned me about guys like you.”

  “To marry or flee?”

  Patsy smiled again.

  “OK, I’m sitting next to you but don’t get any ideas. I get the ideas in this relationship. Good ideas too. Not lately, but sometimes. Agreed?”