Читать книгу Searching For Sophia - Andrew Saw - Страница 13

8

After Sophia first visited the surgery, Joe existed as an impersonation of himself, a 3D avatar made out of flesh and blood. When you’re good friends with someone miserable you don’t need to ask for updates, you feel the mood as a chilly vapour. It’s where the parallel universe begins. To them your world is ordered – with everything calm and in its place, although of course it isn’t – but theirs is discombobulated, with reality hanging off a single hinge. Everything they see is in disharmony, a mirror reflecting backwards. Ideas and emotions are slightly off-kilter. Action is pointless. Time slows to primordial sludge.

Because of his mastery of pastoral care, Joe’s performance was impeccable. He was charming, always positive with our clients and patients; but he was an actor playing Dr Joe Franken and I knew it had to be a struggle.

On a Friday night I ran into Jarrah at the gym and was surprised when she asked, “How’s Joe?”

“He’s been better. You haven’t spoken?”

“Not for over a week. Most of the time I can’t get him off the phone, so I assume he’s caught up in one of his obsessions.”

“A new woman, you mean?”

“That’s usually why he disappears.”

“Well, there is a woman definitely, but this is different. He’s having a pretty hard time. I think he needs your help.”

“Really?”

“It’s a weird infatuation, Jarrah, even for him.”

“He’s such an idiot. When you’re finished, meet me at the Roosevelt for a cocktail.”

The most non-Jewish thing about Jarrah is that she relishes a dry martini after a heavy workout. We settled into a red leather booth in the Roosevelt cocktail bar in Kings Cross and I brought her up to date. Hearing myself tell the story, it was clear that Jarrah’s use of the word “obsession” was on the money.

“It could almost be the early stages of de Clerambault’s syndrome,” she said thoughtfully.

“De Clera what?”

“De Clerambault’s Syndrome, otherwise known as erotomania.”

“God in heaven, what’s that?”

“It’s a delusional psychotic condition, often associated with schizophrenia, where the patient believes someone is in love with them, even though they’re not.”

“Joe schizophrenic, really?”

“Does he think this woman secretly adores him? Is she sending him special signals with telepathy? Are there secret messages from her hidden in the nightly news?”

“Jesus, Jarrah, I don’t think your brother’s that crazy.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen them together for one thing, and I’m pretty sure the delusion is mutual.”

“Does he think she’s deliberately trying to hide their love from the world?”

“Not that I can tell.”

She took a long sip of her Manhattan. “Pity.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never had a case of erotomania, not a full-blown one anyway. You ever seen Fatal Attraction?”

“Listen – Joe’s not crazy, at least not completely, but he is having a hard time. He’s miserable.”

“Just like all the other times.”

“No, this is unusual. For one thing he hates the situation he’s in. He’s really embarrassed, almost ashamed.”

“Ashamed? That’s ridiculous. Why?”

“You’re the psychiatrist, Jarrah, and he is your twin brother.”

“Yes, I suppose he is,” she said draining her cocktail. “Let’s get another drink.”

I don’t think it’s possible to be with someone close in a maelstrom without weathering the same gale. This was the moment when the wormhole leading to Joe and Sophia’s parallel universe opened up next to us. Sipping my second cocktail I was already in an altered state.

The Roosevelt lounge is a facsimile version of a mid-town Manhattan bar, a lot like the old Algonquin Hotel on West 44th Street. Certainly the dim light and dark wood, the plush leather and the sprinkling of Cole Porter melodies are more about Breakfast at Tiffany’s than a bar in Kings Cross. While Jarrah would never be mistaken for Audrey Hepburn, in the soft light her slightly built frame and almond eyes made her even more beguiling than usual. After so many years of friendship she still has the ability to mesmerise me without warning, although I was careful to hide it. In the middle of a download about obsession, I didn’t want to risk the sting of sarcasm from the beautiful Dr Frankenstein.

“So tell me about this woman, what’s the big deal?” she asked, stirring her drink.

“It’s hard to describe really, but she does have a special presence.”

“She’s a minor deity?”

“She’s human, Jarrah, just unusual.”

“Unusual how? Does she glow in the dark?”

“Look, all I can tell you is that I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s very beguiling.”

“And what does this beguiling alien do for a living?”

“She’s a violinist with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra.”

“Oh I see, so she’s an obsessive compulsive?”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’ve had girlfriends in the SSO, believe me, I know.”

“Well, whatever the case, she’s an unusual woman and Joe is clearly obsessed. Other than that, I don’t know what to say.”

“Why doesn’t he just ask her out?”

“We’ve been through this – he’s worried that he might seem like a predator.”

This was too much for Jarrah. She laughed, wiping away tears. “Who is she, Little Red Riding Hood? I don’t know why we’re even talking about this.”

“I’ve got better things to do, believe me.”

“It’s ridiculous. Joe is thirty-eight years old and I presume this woman’s not a child.”

“No, definitely an adult.”

“Well, if I was you, Tim, I’d just leave them to get on with it. Or not get on with it, whatever.”

“But that’s my point, Joe can’t. Maybe he’s gone a little crazy after all.”

“Oh for God’s sake, tell him to get over himself.”

“It would be better coming from you.”

She looked at me over her martini and took another long sip. I knew she would have liked to end the conversation. Yet at the same time she knew me well enough to understand that I wouldn’t be asking for help unless I thought it was necessary.

“You know that Joe’s likely to go off the alien as quickly as he went on?” she said.

“They’d need to talk to each other properly first.”

“So I arrange for them to meet.”

“How?”

“Use your imagination, Tim.”

“The Sydney Symphony?”

“Duh. We go to a concert and afterwards the girls I know will ask us back to the green room for a drink. We’re there, Joe’s there, the alien’s there, and that’s that.”

“Will it work?”

“I’m a psychiatrist, Tim, not a dating site.”

“But you are a psychiatrist who goes on dates.”

“Hilarious. And four years of medicine and five years of psychiatry will never give me the skills to manage a deluded lover or, for that matter, an idiot twin.”