“Four years of residency, which includes two of general psychiatry and two of child-and adolescent-specialty training. After that a two-year fellowship. It seems long, but at least I know what I want to do and am on track to do my chosen work.”
“I wanted to read your article we found in that psychiatry journal—I forget its title, it had supernatural in it, but in order to read it I had to join something first and time was running short. We still had to find you.”
“It was called ‘Psyche and Soma in the Human Child: the Supernatural Episode.’ Actually I co-authored it with my supervisor, otherwise it probably wouldn’t have been accepted. I’ll send you an offprint as soon as I unpack my boxes.”
“You always were so smart, Marcus.”
“You were the best friend I ever had. I spent part of first grade watching you so I could learn how to please you. And I never stopped dreaming about you. I still do. You are a permanent member of my dream theater—there are only about ten people in the entire repertory.”
“I don’t know whether to ask this or not.”
“Go ahead.”
“You may be sorry.”
“No, please. Ask it.”
Wheezer raised himself to an upright position, wincing a little from the effort, and took a dramatic deep breath. “Okay, here goes. What did I do, or say, that day I came to have lunch at your apartment, that made you try to kill me the next day?”
“It was something you said at school.”
“What? I know I must have done something, but I can’t remember.”
“It was about my mom. About us sleeping in one bed. Next day you told your other friends, ‘Marcus is his mother’s little husband.’ ”
“I said that? And this was at school the next day?”
“Yes.”
“Funny, all the times I’ve tried to remember, I was sure that whatever I did took place at your apartment. Didn’t I come for lunch?”
“Yes, but you didn’t stay. You left in a huff before my mom returned with the pizza.”
“I don’t remember any of this! Why did I leave in a huff?”
“I had shown you this picture of a man Mom kept in her drawer. I said it was my father and she was going to tell me his name when I was old enough to be responsible.”
“Why don’t I remember any of this?”
“We all have these blank spots. Sometimes it’s because we repressed it, other times it’s because another memory shoved it aside. You took the picture and shook it in its frame and said, ‘Someone cut this out of a book.’ And then you said, ‘You two are crazy. I need to get out of here.’ ”
“I didn’t stay for lunch?”
“No, when Mom came back with our lunch, I told her you’d felt an asthma attack coming on and had rushed home to get your medication.”
“You know what’s funny? I never had another attack after your attack. You’re probably the last person in the world who calls me Wheezer. So did she tell you later who your father was?”
“No. As I told you, she died in that accident when I was eleven, so I never knew. But not knowing doesn’t torture me as much as it once did. I was lucky enough to make friends with a man when I went to live with my great-aunt, and he became a sort of fatherly standin. He’s dead now, but he stayed around long enough for me to get an idea what having a father would have been like.”
“Well, you’ll have to tell me about it because I’ve never had the experience. I don’t know if Drew told you, but all those years my father was traveling for Forster’s Furniture he had a second family in Roanoke, Virginia. Married and children and all and this was before Mother divorced him, so he was a full-fledged bigamist for a while. I didn’t learn about this until I was in my teens. I used to fantasize driving up to Roanoke and introducing myself to my half-siblings, but I never got around to it. What would have been the point? I haven’t even told my mother about my present state. She’d feel obliged to rush up from Florida and make a bedside appearance and Drew and Bryson would have to feed her and she’d say something mean to hurt their feelings. But look, you were born in Forsterville, your mom worked at Forster’s Furniture. I mean, we all assumed your father was Mr. Harshaw because that’s what your mom said, but it must have been someone around Forsterville.”
“Whoever it was died before I was born, that much she told me.”
“Do you still have that picture?”
“It’s in my wallet upstairs.”
“No, don’t get it right now. We need to make the most of my waking time. But maybe Drew being so much older, he might recognize the face. Shit, my mouth feels like a sewer and I have so much more to ask! Would you go and find Tobias—he’s probably doing laundry—and tell him I could use a lemon swab?”
“I can do it. Where are the swabs?”
“No, Marcus, the inside of my mouth is not pretty. I can’t let you see it.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen a lot worse. Besides, I’d like to do it for you. I promise I’ll do a good job.”
“They’re in the top drawer of that bureau. They come in individual packages. Will you also promise you’ll be here when I wake up—in case I fall asleep?”
Andrew and Bryson were off to the Furniture Museum and asked me to go along.
“He usually sleeps for hours,” Andrew said.
“Well, but I promised I’d be here when he woke up.”
“Understood,” they said.
“Marcus, I wanted to say about Cricket—it was the total thing and we both knew it. Just because she happened to be sixteen—I mean, I was only six years older. That’s not a lot. Have you ever loved someone totally like that?”
“When I was fourteen, I fell in love with my therapist. She was fifty-one.”
“What did you do?”
“I brooded and anguished and dreamed up scenarios where I saved her from danger or her husband died, or left her. I finally broke down and told her. And she said it had a name, transference, it happened a lot in therapy and if handled correctly it could sometimes turn corners. She said, ‘We can do one of two things, Marcus. I can refer you to someone else, or we can work through this ourselves—within the bounds of therapy.’ And we did that. I still loved her afterward and probably would still love her if I were to meet her today.”
“And that’s all? Your therapist when you were fourteen? Was there anyone after that?”
“I shared a house with another med student for a semester. It started off—well, it started off in a passionate … collision … that’s the best way to describe it. So I asked her to move in with me and after the passion dried up we were nothing but roommates who shared the rent but didn’t like each other very much.”
“So you’ve never known the total real thing?”
“There’s still time. The loggerhead turtle doesn’t reach sexual maturity until he’s in his thirties.”
Forsterville, the last full day.
“Marcus, I’m good for the whole day. Tobias has given me a shot.”
“A steroid? You’ll probably pay for it later.”
“I don’t mind. You said last night you had saved up a true for me that you’d never told anyone.”