Читать книгу The Blind - A.F. Brady - Страница 31

David and I are sitting in his office, avoiding the world, eating our lunches. He usually brings something in, and I end up stealing half of it, or we go to one of the sandwich shops down the street. There’s a halal truck on the corner, and today we both got chicken over rice. We usually eat when the patients get their lunch, whether we’re hungry or not—that way we’re less likely to have visitors or intruders.

“Did you see Julie in the meeting this morning?” I ask, plastic fork between my teeth.

“Yeah, I saw her. Why? What’d she do?”

“She was doing her makeup in a Chanel compact at the fucking conference table.”

“Is that a big deal?”

“She works in a mental institution. Why does she care so much about how she looks? It’s pathetic.”

David laughs at me. “You really hate her, huh?”

“I don’t hate anybody. I just think she’s incredibly silly and she doesn’t belong here. She should be working at Bloomingdale’s.”

“You ever sat in on any of her groups?”

“No, have you?” David rarely engages in Julie shit-talking and gossip with me, because he’s mature and above it all, so I love when he descends to my level.

“Yeah, I was at the one that your patient stormed out of. The new guy, big dude.”

“Richard? The thing with the beets?”

“Ha!” David opens his mouth to laugh and a single grain of rice flies past me and sticks to the window. “Yeah,” he says, wiping his lips, “she was trying to delicately explain that some foods can change the color or consistency of pee and poop, and he just bolted. I think she wanted to get the message across that people panic when their shit turns red, thinking it’s blood, so she was trying to preemptively quell the anxiety.”

“Sure, which would make sense if anyone ever had beets here. What an idiot! Such a princess. I told you she shouldn’t be here.”

“Yeah, Rachel asked me to keep an eye on her because she’s been racking up complaints.”

“Really? How wonderful! Maybe Typhlos will give me an early Christmas present and fire her!” I joyfully scoop another forkful of chicken into my mouth.

“Yeah, don’t hold your breath. How is the new guy, by the way? Last we talked you were getting nowhere.”

“I’m still getting fucking nowhere. It’s confusing. He’s so high functioning, seems to be completely normal, so what is he doing here? Why is he in treatment?”

“What’s his diagnosis?”

“Oh, right. Like there’s a diagnosis in his chart. That would be too easy.”

“Do you think he’s diagnosable?”

“If I were to slap something on him, like for insurance purposes, I’d say adjustment disorder. And that’s a stretch. There’s got to be something that I’m completely missing. It’s too weird for this guy to be admitted to a mental institution. Aside from being uncooperative and stubborn, he seems normal.”

“You want me to meet with him? See if I can figure something out?” David is always incredibly helpful, always willing to go the extra mile for me.

“No, thanks. But keep an eye out if you notice anything.” David smiles his sweet, protective smile at me and clumsily pats my knee with his free hand. I try to examine his thoughts as he turns toward the window; I’m looking for a place inside him where I could fit.