Business development, finance, marketing, and operations were critical to the success of a company, but all too often, it was the technology that captured the media’s attention. And it was the technology that excited the team.
Somewhere along the way the team had forgotten that Richard was no slouch when it came to technology. Maybe he wasn’t Mark, but he could hold his own against most of the engineers. After all, when they started Johatchen, he and Mark designed, coded, and tested everything together.
Yes. He was definitely underappreciated. He needed to think about how he could change that.
8
Sam looked out her window and watched Brittany Spangler drive away. Sometimes she hated her job. Usually she felt this way at the hospital where she saw indigent patients return again and again. They’d get treated, have their meds stabilized, and then be sent on their way after promising to check in regularly. But without a stable living environment, it wasn’t long before they went off their meds, continued their risky behaviors, and were picked up and sent back to the hospital. It was frustrating.
At least in her own practice she’d never felt this way. She could see the progress her patients were making. Until now.
She should have known. She’d studied Borderline Personality Disorder and had seen several cases at the hospital, but she was never the primary psychiatrist on those cases. She’d consulted with Dr. Karmere about Brittany and he had warned her. BPD patients were the most difficult. They were intelligent, often too intelligent. They played games. They were masters of deception, selecting roles to play to best manipulate those around them. And Sam was pretty sure she was being manipulated. The progress that she’d thought they were making through the therapy appeared to be just a sham. It was almost like Brittany was setting up Sam for something. Sam couldn’t imagine what, but she had a bad feeling about Brittany.
This session was, like the last few, unproductive. It was pretty clear that the Schema-focused Therapy, which appeared to be working at the beginning, wasn’t working at all. Brittany just made it look that way. After today’s session, Sam asked herself why Brittany kept returning. If anything, they seemed to be on the verge of fighting and Sam was struggling to maintain her objectivity. Brittany was constantly trying to turn the tables and find buttons that she could push. She’d hit close to home more than once. Clearly, she read people well, too well.
And in their ‘innocuous’ conversations, Sam had come to realize that like many BPD patients, Brittany was a sociopath. Her narcissism was all-consuming. Brittany didn’t really care about anyone but herself.
As she thought about it, Sam realized that Brittany was never going to reveal what her feelings were about her mother. Sure, she gave the usual platitudes and made up adolescent complaints, but Sam sensed that there was something buried there. Actually, she didn’t think it was buried at all. It was just that Brittany didn’t want discuss it. She had something to hide.
Sam hated to go there, but a small part of her wondered if Brittany had killed her mother. Was Sam supposed to be a safety net for a possible insanity plea?
She was just finishing entering her notes when the phone rang.
“This is Dr. Lewis.”
“Hi Sam,” replied a voice she knew all too well. “I really want to apologize about the other night. The conversation turned in a direction that hit me really hard and I behaved horribly. I know this is when you usually take your lunch break. Can I buy you lunch and explain?”
Sam thought about it. She really didn’t want to see Jack again. She wasn’t ready to get lured into something just to have it fall apart. If the other night revealed the real Jack, he wasn’t someone she wanted to be with.
Then again, she thought back to her conversations with Mary. Mary seemed to think that Jack was basically a good guy with a few problems. Well, who didn’t have problems. Sam knew that she did. After all, her initial impulse was to just run away; to never see Jack again. And this was at the first sign of a problem in the relationship. Yes. She had her own set of issues.
She decided to give it one more chance. After all, what did she really have to lose. She could always run away later.
“You know, Jack, my gut tells me you and I aren’t going to work out. So it might be better to just end it now.”
“But –“
“But my rational side says that I’m probably just afraid of getting involved. So I tell you what. I was going to pick up a salad at the Rick’s Deli down the street and have a quick lunch on the bench by the duck pond in the park. If you want to join me, I’ll try to listen without putting on my psychiatrist’s hat.”
“Actually, I like it when you wear your psychiatrist’s hat. I’ve learned so much about people and their motivations. And I can probably use some help myself – not that I’m ready for therapy, but I am ready to talk to a friend.”
And before she could change her mind, Jack continued, “I’ll see you in 15 minutes in the park.”
There was a line at the deli and it was actually 25 minutes, but Jack was there, waiting patiently. His face lit up as soon as he spotted Sam. He started to move in for a hug, but sensed that Sam wasn’t ready for that.
They sat together on the bench and gazed out at the ducks, which, one after the other, would dip their heads, rocking forward so that only their butts were above water, then rise and quickly swallow something. Bugs? Small fish?
It was one of those classic fall days in San Francisco. The interminable fogs of the summer were now gone and the rain and valley fogs of the winter had not yet arrived. These were rare days treasured by all who lived in the City.
“I love the fall,” Jack began.
“Me too,” Sam replied tentatively. “These are the days I love to play hooky and go for a hike in Land’s End.”
Sensing an opening, Jack gently proposed they do just that.
“No. I have a patient this afternoon. Sorry.”
“Of course. You’re seeing Mark. He mentioned it over lunch yesterday.”
“Well, I know it’s not the most professional of me, since I’m not supposed to have external involvement with my patients, but how do you think he’s doing?”
Jack paused a moment to reflect on how to say this. Then he decided not to sugarcoat what he was about to say.
“I hate to say anything. But when you started seeing him, he was making great progress. Every day he seemed more confident and more his old self.
“But over the past few weeks he seems to be struggling. From what I can see, he’s not drinking or using, but I can tell it’s hard for him. Plus he’s having mood swings and he mentioned memory lapses. Is he going to relapse?”
“I can’t really say much other than we knew our current work would be challenging for him. Hmm, memory lapses?”
“Yeah. He says that he finds things on his computer – notes emails, and websites that have been visited, but he can’t remember visiting those sites, sending the emails, or writing the notes.
“Should he be worried? Is this a side-effect of the medications?”
“Again, I really shouldn’t say anything, and I feel guilty even having brought this up at all. But no. Memory lapses aren’t usual side effects of his medications. I think we need to stop there.”
After a moment of uncomfortable silence lost in their own thoughts, Jack decided to dive in.
“Look Sam. I really like you. I think we have something special. I was a complete jerk the other evening and I’m really, really sorry. There’s no excuse for my behavior, but maybe I should tell you why I reacted the way I did.”
Seeing her nod somewhat hesitantly, Jack continued.
“I know it sounds strange, but the high tech world is my community. Most people think it’s an old-boys club and in some areas, it is. Like venture capital. But if you go beyond that, there’s something special. I guess you’d call it a connection. I mean, ah. We technologists, and I like to think I’m one of them, we share something. It’s a vision that we can help the world
become a better place. And in spite of what may appear to be competitive to those on the outside, our community loves to get together to invent new things. Most of us know that the big bucks are a matter of luck and timing – I guess they’re the same thing – and while a few are in it for the money, most of us just want to see our technologies make a difference.
“I know. You’re wondering what this has to do with the other night. Well, I knew both of these women but more importantly, I knew their husbands.
“Michael James and I used to have a lot of fun heckling each other at conferences and seminars. He’d show up at mine and give me the hardest time, then I’d do the same to him. Afterwards, we’d get together over dinner and late into the night to challenge each other’s ideas. He was a great guy who really made a difference. When Ashima left him, and he committed suicide, I could have killed her.”
Seeing Sam’s shocked look, Jack jumped back in before she could interrupt.
“No. I didn’t kill her. But there are times when I really wonder why people do what they do to each other. Ashima’s actions were selfish and she didn’t think about the rest of us when she left Michael.
“And it was even worse with Marshall Lewis. He was my mentor. I’m who I am because of Marshall. And I was there when Julia left him. She was fed up with his working hours, his lifestyle, and his overly generous nature. She took everything they had financially, as well as his kids. And he just couldn’t handle it. In his mind, it was Julia who enabled him to think and create. It was Julia who made his non-working hours heaven on earth. He loved her. He relied on her. Her stability reassured him so that he could take intellectual risks. And when she was gone, he just couldn’t do it anymore. He became depressed and basically drank himself to death.
“I tried to help. I encouraged him to seek counseling. But he refused. The always friendly Marshall, the patient guy who helped everyone he met, withdrew. And when he was gone, I hated Julia. I still do. I know it’s wrong, but I can’t help being glad that both Julia and Ashima are dead. Good riddance.
“I know. This sounds like some outdated men need wives to succeed story, but it’s not that. It’s about love and trust and what we need to be able to push ourselves to excellence. I’d feel exactly the same way if Steve left my friend Melissa Sanders. She’s a genius but I know her life would be over if Steve left her. I don’t know how to explain all this, but it’s how I feel. And when you said the person who killed Julia and Ashima was a psychopath, I couldn’t help thinking it could have been me. I could have killed them. And I don’t think I’m a psychopath. I don’t think you have to be a psychopath to kill people, especially evil people. I know it’s rare, but I think sometimes it’s justified. I wish I didn’t feel that way, but I do. And I didn’t want you to, ah, think less of me.”
Sam looked over at Jack who was clearly drained. He was looking at his feet and shaking his head. Then, without looking up he said one more thing.
“Sam I know it’s bad timing to say this, but I’m falling in love with you.”
Sam wasn’t sure whether she wanted to run away screaming or take Jack in her arms and comfort him. She decided to try something in the middle and hope that it didn’t sound too professional. She put her hand on his. He looked up.
“Thank you for opening up to me. This is a lot for me to process right now and as terrible as it sounds, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for my next appointment. If you’re available Saturday, why don’t you pick me up about nine. I’d love to do a long hike in Marin.”
She squeezed his hand and left a hopeful Jack on the bench watching her walk back towards her office.
9
Sam raced back to her office with her head spinning. Was murder justified? She’d never thought so. Could it be the act of a rational person? Maybe in a few exceptional circumstances. She remembered a question in one of her ethics classes. If you could go back in time and kill Hitler when he was a child, would you do it?
Almost everyone in the class agreed that they would. Sam had a problem with that. She felt that Hitler must have been damaged. She would have tried to change his life, to protect him from whatever made him a psychopath. The others were just lazy, seeking the most expeditious solution.
But as she’d gotten older and had seen people with problems that couldn’t be fixed, her judgments had softened a bit – or maybe hardened. Sometimes it was too late. And she had to admit to herself that in the course of working in psych wards, there were a few patients – very few – who didn’t seem to have any reason, genetic or behavioral, for what she really didn’t want to label as being evil. That got into religion, and she didn’t want to go there.
It still begged the question of whether a rational person could murder for a good reason. There was certainly self-defense. And if you allowed that, how far did self-defense go?
Courts had upheld mental cruelty as a justifiable reason in some cases. Physical abuse. What about a threat to society or a way of life? Isn’t that the Hitler question in a nutshell? Were people who willfully caused others tremendous harm, even if just psychologically, exempt from any punishment?
Sam knew she wasn’t going to resolve this question for herself, or the larger question of Jack and whether they had a future together before Mark Johansen came in for his appointment.
And indeed, her phone buzzed indicating that someone had opened the outside door to her waiting room office.
Sam welcomed Mark. Her waistline was grateful that she’d moved half of their sessions to the afternoon. They’d held onto the morning sessions because neither one was willing to forego the treasures from the bakery downstairs or the connection they reestablished while sharing them over a cup of tea.
Mark looked around the room nervously before taking a seat opposite Sam. They exchanged a few pleasantries before getting down to business.
“So Mark, as usual, before we get into anything more substantial, how is it going with the meds? Any new or worsening side effects?”
“I don’t know, Sam,” Mark began, clearly agitated. “I’m much more nervous than before and I’m feeling paranoid. It’s not as bad as it was before my incident, but it seems like a giant step backwards and it scares me. I’ve also been having more nightmares and I sometimes wake up screaming. My dreams are really vivid and they scare me too. I’m often afraid to go back to sleep.
“But what really has me scared is the memory lapses. I didn’t mention it before because I wasn’t sure about it, but now, I’m pretty sure I’m not remembering things that I’ve done.”
“Tell me a bit more about these lapses. What makes you think you’re not remembering?”
“Ah, well, it’s just weird. Working from home, I sometimes find things on my computer that I don’t remember putting there. I also see emails that have gone out that I don’t remember sending, and when I’ve looked at the timestamps in my browsing histories, I see that I was home when I visited sites that I don’t remember visiting. Same for the emails and files. I was home.”
“Hmm. Have you noticed things like this elsewhere? When you’re at work or out, have you noticed that you don’t remember things that people might have said or things you might have done? I know you can’t remember what you don’t remember, but I would think that if this is occurring regularly, people around you would notice. Has anyone said anything?
“Not really. And, I’ve been very straight forward with my team at work. I’ve told them that if they see any unusual behavior, they need to tell me. So far no one has said anything.”
Mark racked his brain.
“Actually, the other evening over dinner, Richard mentioned that we had just talked about the 49ers game and I didn’t remember it. I thought maybe I’d just been distracted. That’s happening a lot lately. I definitely find myself getting distracted easily. It’s harder to concentrate. But maybe it’s the same thing.”
“Mark, I don’t know where this would come from. I’m pretty sure it’s not the medication. I suppose it could be a r
esult of the work we’re doing, but even that seems unlikely. Are you still keeping a journal?
“Absolutely!” Mark said proudly. “I’d never done anything like this before except for work – you know, keeping track of conversations with clients and even employees, but this is really cool. I can look back over my day or even look from day to day and see not only what happened, but how I was feeling about it. I’ve got to say though that if you read my journal, you’ll see that these past few weeks have been pretty chaotic. I’m fine one minute, then crazy – sorry, probably the wrong term – the next.”
Sam smiled. “Crazy is an okay word in this context. It’s not pejorative. It’s just a good catch-all word for unusual behavior.
“And do you see patterns of memory lapses in your journal? Are there things in it that you don’t remember?”
“No. I guess that’s a good point. But how can I explain these sites I don’t remember visiting and the emails I don’t remember sending?”
“I really don’t know. Does anyone else have access to your computer?”
“No. And I’ve got our security software installed. No one should be able to break in or use it without me knowing about it.”
“Well, if your computer is truly secure, you need to figure out if these memory lapses are real. Maybe you could document what you’re seeing on your computer or be more detailed in your journal – like note the times you sit down with it and the times you stop. Maybe that will bring some clarity as to what’s going on.”
“That makes sense. Still, I think it’s more likely my crazy mind is playing tricks on me than that someone is breaking into my system, getting past the best security system on the market, mine!”
“Well, let’s move on for now. I’d like to hear about these bad dreams, but before we get there, tell me about this fear and anxiety you’re feeling.”
Mark paused a moment, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.
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