Nutcase Read online

  “She’s only doing it to get back at me. Did I tell you she joined the gym and lost fifteen pounds?”

  “I believe you mentioned it.” Stanley and his wife had worked out a schedule to avoid running into each other at their office until they decided what to do with the business. But he’d had to go by a couple of times to pick up a forgotten file or meet with a new client. I suspected he was doing it on purpose. Now Stanley was losing interest in the girlfriend.

  “Doris bought a whole new wardrobe,” he said. “She wears tight skirts and low-cut blouses. I don’t know what has come over her.”

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Stanley Glick was still in love with his wife. I wasn’t sure he was aware of it, but it would be interesting to see how things turned out.

  My mother and aunt showed up shortly before ten o’clock with packing supplies. I noticed my aunt was glowing, and I hoped she hadn’t already fallen in love with Eddie Franks.

  “Sorry we’re late,” my mother said. “Trixie didn’t arrive home until an hour ago.” She shot my aunt a dark look.

  “Guess what Eddie and I did last night?” Aunt Trixie said, grinning like a teenager.

  I smiled. “Tell me.”

  “We played all-night bowling. And I’m not even tired!”

  My mother pursed her lips. “All-night bowling, my foot,” she muttered.

  Trixie looked hurt. “What’s wrong with you, Dixie? Why are you so against me having a little fun? Why, they even have senior citizen leagues during the week. You and I—”

  “We have a business to run,” my mother said, “or have you forgotten?”

  Trixie looked hurt. “Having our own business does not mean we can’t take a little time off to enjoy life.”

  While I hoped my mother and aunt weren’t going to get into a long-winded argument, I had to applaud Trixie’s spunk.

  My mother ignored her and looked at me. “Where do you want us to start?”

  I looked about. “You can begin packing the books in my office,” I said. “I have to go to the hospital.”

  My mother looked concerned. “What’s wrong with you?” she said. “Are you ill? You can tell me, you know. If you’re sick you’ll have to move in with us so I can take care of you.”

  “I’m seeing a patient, Mom.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!” she said. “Why didn’t you say so? Why do you have to scare me like that, Kate?”

  “You do it to yourself,” I said.

  “She’s right, Dixie,” my aunt said. “You’re always jumping to conclusions, and most of the time you’re wrong.”

  My mother was clearly insulted. “What do you know? If you had a brain you wouldn’t be out gallivanting all night with some man who has serious psychiatric problems and should probably be locked in a nut ward for the rest of his life.”

  Trixie looked at me. Her bottom lip trembled. “Is that true?”

  “No. Mr. Franks is as sane as we are.” It wasn’t until after I’d said it that I realized I should have used a better example. Most of my family and friends straddled the line between normal and abnormal. As if to prove that point, Mona came out of the bathroom in her nurse’s uniform.

  Trixie and my mother stared openly. “Oh, Mona, when did you become a nurse?” Trixie asked.

  I figured it was a good time to slip out.

  I found Marie lying on her bed facing the wall. I touched her shoulder. “I hear you’re having a bad day, Marie,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She rolled over and faced me. “My name isn’t Marie, but you already know that. Sometimes, when I experience mania, I hallucinate. As for feeling crappy as hell, I’ve been to the dark side of manic-depressive illness before.”

  I couldn’t hide my surprise. She may have been depressed, but she was clearly lucid. “Will you tell me your real name?”

  “Elizabeth Tyler Larkin. My husband is Senator John Larkin of Vermont.”

  “Wow.” I suddenly realized why she looked familiar to me. I’d seen a photo of her and the senator on the front page of a tabloid some time ago while I was standing in line at the grocery store. I vaguely remembered the caption; something about her husband abusing an employee—the housekeeper, as I recall.

  Elizabeth got up from the bed, walked into the bathroom, and splashed water on her face. As my memory was jogged, I also remembered the senator giving a news conference in front of his home where he’d vehemently denied accusations of throwing a glass dish at the woman. Elizabeth had stood beside him but had remained quiet. The news had died down within a few days; the housekeeper had dropped charges and conveniently disappeared. I’d suspected she had been paid off.

  Elizabeth returned and sat on the edge of her bed. “I would appreciate it if Dr. Glazer would cut back on the dosage of whatever sedative he has been giving me. I don’t want to be drugged. I’ve spent the last year so doped up I could barely get out of bed.”

  “Who was giving you so much medication?”

  “A close friend of my husband’s,” she said, “who just happens to be a psychiatrist. I’ve been planning to leave my husband for months, so I began weaning myself off the drugs, unbeknownst to my husband and my doctor. Which explains why I spiraled into mania,” she added.

  “What made you choose to come to Atlanta?”

  “I contacted my old college roommate. She’s an MD. She has been expecting me. I awoke this morning feeling clearheaded for the first time in days. I called her this morning; she has been frantic with worry and had tried to reach me at home, only to be told that I was ill and couldn’t come to the phone,” she added.

  “Are you feeling suicidal, Elizabeth?” I asked.

  “No. But I don’t think my depression is all related to my illness. I feel like crap for wasting ten years of my life with an abusive husband. He broke me down, Dr. Holly. I don’t have to tell you what battered wife syndrome is like.”

  “He’s the cause of those bruises on your arm?”

  “Yes. I asked one of our employees to help me escape. I thought I could trust her. My mistake. I had to wait until the opportunity presented itself. I was already cycling into mania by that time, but I was able to pull myself together long enough to go to the bank and make a substantial withdrawal. I remember paying cash for a used car. I obviously went through the money quickly because I had to sleep in my car. I should never have stopped the medication I was taking for my bipolar illness, but I was so pissed off that I was being drugged. I don’t want to be sedated anymore, Dr. Holly.”

  “You understand why Dr. Glazer was forced to give you something, right?” I asked. “You were experiencing serious mania at the time and, like you said, hallucinating. I can ask him to start cutting back on your Vistaril, but I think it’s important that you remain on the mood stabilizer.”

  “I have no problem with that.”

  “I just have one more question,” I said. “Why were you being drugged?”

  “Have you ever heard of Tyler’s Fine Foods?”

  “You’re that Tyler?”

  “Sole owner and CEO,” she said.

  Which meant she was worth millions, I realized.

  “I think my husband and my doctor hoped to prove me incompetent so my husband could have control of my assets.”

  It was a lot to take in. “This is all so remarkable,” I said. Still, her thoughts and speech were logical and coherent. “Do you think your husband will try to find you?”

  “Absolutely. Not only for my money but because he fears a scandal.”

  She lay back on the bed. I could see the extreme fatigue on her face. Tears glistened in her eyes. Telling me her story had taken a lot out of her.

  “Elizabeth?” She looked at me. “I promise I will do everything in my power to protect you. I’m sure I speak for Dr. Glazer as well.”

  “Thank you.” She closed her eyes.

  I left the unit and walked to my car. I called Thad from my cell phone and told him what I’d learned. He
was clearly stunned. “She doesn’t want anyone to know who she is,” I said. “I’m hoping she’ll be stable enough to leave the hospital soon.”

  “Shouldn’t Mrs. Larkin be talking to the police?” he said. “Or someone from a women’s shelter?” he added.

  “She has a safe place to go, Thad, and she appears to be in her right mind. I don’t think she wants to involve the police.”

  “That’s not the point,” he said. “There are people trained to handle this sort of thing. You need to convince her to speak to them.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” I said, not wanting to hear a lecture.

  My mom and aunt had packed the books in my office as well as my wall pictures and had gone out for a sandwich when Arnie Decker arrived with his father. Arnie was dressed in neat slacks and a dress shirt, minus sequins and polished fingernails. The man beside him was white haired but looked to be in perfect physical condition. His clothes were starched and creased. His face was tight.

  Arnie fixed me with a look of sheer terror. “Dr. Holly, I’d like you to meet my father, Colonel Dean Decker.”

  “My pleasure, Dr. Holly,” the man said, his voice as stiff as his clothes. His handshake was firm. “You may call me Colonel.”

  “I’m Kate,” I said and motioned them toward my office. I invited them to be seated, but neither man made a move until I took my chair. “You’ll have to excuse all the boxes,” I said. “I’m in the process of moving to a new office.”

  “I’m clearly at a disadvantage,” the colonel said. “I have absolutely no idea why I’m here. I did not even know Arnold was seeing a therapist.”

  Arnie squirmed. I didn’t blame him for being uncomfortable. I was anxious as well.

  “Thank you for coming, sir,” I said. “I know it means a lot to your son.”

  “Shall we get started?” he said.

  Arnie’s gaze met mine before turning to his father. I nodded. “Well, sir, you know how important it was for me to serve my country.”

  “I should certainly hope so.”

  “I worked very hard to do the best job I could because I wanted you to be proud of me.” He took a deep breath. “But it wasn’t easy because I felt different from the rest of the men.”

  “Different? What do you mean?”

  Arnie hesitated. Sweat beaded his brow. “I don’t expect you to understand, sir, but I think I would have made a better daughter to you than a son.”

  The colonel frowned. “I haven’t the first clue what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve never felt like a man, Father, and I’ve spent my entire life pretending to be something I’m not because I was afraid I would lose your respect. For as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like a female,” he added.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” the older man demanded.

  I could see the red streaks creeping up the colonel’s neck, even as he stared at his son in disbelief. He was clearly shaken.

  “There’s a term for it, Father. It’s called gender identity disorder. I may look like a man on the outside, but the real me, the female side, has been trapped inside all these years. I want to start living my life as a woman.”

  “A woman!” the colonel bellowed. He looked at me. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  His face was apple red; a sheen of sweat covered his brow. “No, sir,” I said. “Gender identity disorder is very real. I’ve treated a number of patients who felt like, um, Arnold.”

  “You mean freaks, don’t you?” he said, his voice booming. “People who belong in a circus,” he added.

  “Colonel, if we could just try to remain calm,” I said, expecting Mona to knock on the door any moment to see if everything was okay.

  He bolted to his feet, but I could see that he was unsteady.

  “I refuse to listen to this garbage. Just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach.” He looked at Arnie. “A freak!” he repeated. “That’s what you are.”

  I could see the anguish in Arnie’s eyes as he stood and faced his father squarely. “I am not a freak!” he said sharply.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me,” the colonel said.

  Arnie hitched his chin a notch. “I am not asking for your approval, but I thought you should know that I’m going to start living full-time as a woman. I will eventually begin taking injections that will change my appearance and make me more feminine. In time, I’ll have sexual reassignment surgery and become a real woman.”

  “This is going to kill your mother! After today you are no longer welcome in our home.” He turned for the door.

  I stood. Things had gone all wrong. “Colonel, please,” I said. “Your son needs you to understand.”

  He whipped around. “My son?” he shouted. He pointed a finger at Arnie. “He is no son of mine.”

  Arnie stepped closer to the man. I could see the fury in his eyes. I hurried over and touched his shoulder, hoping to calm him, while at the same time prepared to back off in case they decided to slug it out.

  “You’re right, Father,” he said between gritted teeth. “I’ll be the daughter you never had.”

  The colonel threw open the door, but his whole demeanor changed, and he staggered out, and without warning, sank to his knees.

  “Colonel!” I cried.

  “Father!” Arnie was at the man’s side in an instant, catching him before his head could hit the floor.

  I looked at Mona. She was already calling for help.

  “My pills!” the colonel gasped. “In my pants pocket.”

  Arnie and I both checked. I recognized the medication right away. I opened the bottle, dumped one of the tablets in my hand, and managed to slip it beneath his tongue. The colonel’s eyes rolled back in his head, and I feared I might be too late. I began performing CPR on him as Arnie watched, tears streaming down his face.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Arnie cried.

  “I think it’s his heart,” I said quickly, praying the ambulance would arrive soon.

  “I didn’t know he was ill,” Arnie said.

  The door to the reception room opened, and my mom and aunt stood there watching. “Holy h-e-l-l!” my mother said, thinking it was okay to curse as long as she spelled the words. “What’s going on?”

  “We think he might be having a heart attack,” Mona said. “We’re waiting for an ambulance.”

  “It’s all my fault!” Arnie said, choking on his words. “I should never have told him I was going to become a woman.”

  My mother gaped. “You’re going to become a woman?” she repeated. “Why would you do that?”

  “You’re such a handsome man,” Aunt Trixie said.

  “It’s complicated,” he managed between sobs.

  I glanced up. “I need this room cleared so the paramedics can get a stretcher in here.”

  It seemed like forever before they arrived. I was sweat soaked and exhausted. My mother and aunt were trying to comfort Arnie as they stood just inside my office. I stepped aside to give the paramedics room to work.

  “Please don’t let him die,” Arnie said to them. “I will never be able to live with myself.”

  “He’s not going to die,” my mother said. “This sort of thing happens on General Hospital all the time, and the patient almost never dies.”

  “She’s right,” Aunt Trixie said. “And when one of the patients actually does die, they bring him back.”

  Arnie swiped at his tears. Mona was wringing her hands. “I wish I were a real nurse.”

  “You need to be strong no matter what,” my mother told Arnie, “especially if you’re thinking about becoming a woman. Women are a lot stronger than men.”

  The paramedics moved swiftly and efficiently. They checked the colonel’s vital signs, gave him an injection, and hooked him to an IV. All the while, they exchanged information by radio. Finally, they lifted him on a stretcher and told us where they were taking him.

  “I’ll follow you in my car,” Arnie said.

  “You’re in
no condition to drive,” my mother told him. “We’ll take you in our truck.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said as she and Aunt Trixie grabbed their purses to leave. “Please call me as soon as you learn anything.”

  Finally, Mona and I were alone. I sank into one of the chairs and buried my face in my hands.

  “Are you okay?” Mona asked. “Would you like a Xanax?”

  I shook my head. “This is all my fault. I should never have let things get so out of hand in there,” I said, feeling worse by the minute.

  “How were you supposed to know the man had a heart condition?” she said. “Besides, he’s the one who went ballistic. I heard you trying to calm him down.”

  I was vaguely aware of Mona standing over me. “You’re pale,” she said. “I want you to lie down in your office. I’ll let you know the minute I hear anything.”

  I allowed myself to be led to my sofa. Mona tucked a pillow beneath my head and covered me with a light throw. She reached behind a chair and pulled out the teddy bear we used with children, then tucked him beside me.

  “What are you doing?” I said.

  “You need to hold on to Bubba Bear,” she said. “He always makes people feel better.”

  “I’m not a child!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Sometimes we just need something to hold on to.” She yanked several tissues from the box on my coffee table. “Here.”

  I saw the earnest look on her face. Mona was doing all she knew to do to help. I took the tissues and mopped my eyes. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Now, I want you to close your eyes and do that meditation thing you do when you get stressed. I’ll let you know the minute I hear something.”

  “I have patients.”

  “You’re in no position to see them. I’m going to call them and tell them you had an emergency. It doesn’t matter, anyway. They’re way behind on their bills.”

  She closed the door, and I took several deep breaths. The good thing about being a hypnotist is knowing how to calm oneself through deep breathing and visualization. I imagined myself sitting on a beach watching a sunrise. I imagined the salty smell, the sun on my face, the breeze on my skin. I imagined everything being okay. Well, almost. If Arnie’s father died, I would be partially to blame.