Story of a Sociopath

by Julia Navarro

  “Well, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a second opinion. Now that I’m here I thought I could dedicate a bit of time to myself. Dr. Douglas said that I’m stressed and need to relax. Do you need me back there?”

  “Not at all. Stay as long as necessary. We can cope without you,” she said quickly, with what I thought was a hint of suppressed happiness.

  “I’ll call you as soon as the results are in.”

  “Yes, do that. It’s good to know that Paul’s close by.”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  Doris started to get tired of Miami. She had already bought more than she ever could have dreamed of, her tan was perfect, she’d even put on a couple of pounds from so much calm and peace. But she didn’t dare ask me to take her back to New York. She was sick of me, and not of the good life she was living in Miami. Paul was fatherly and attentive toward her.

  “Why don’t you forget about Esther and Olivia and marry Doris? She’s perfect for you. She wants to have a good life and she’ll put up with you in exchange. It’s a good deal,” Paul suggested.

  “I’m not interested. She’s really dumb. She bores me. She’s only good at one thing.”

  “That’s enough, my friend. One reaches the age where one shouldn’t really want anything else. Women who think are exhausting. Better Doris, who’s pleased with what you have, than Esther, who doesn’t need to rely on you for her next meal.”

  “I thought you adored Esther.”

  “I do adore her, I’ve never met a better woman than her, but she’s definitely one of the ones who gives you headaches.”

  The results of the allergy tests were conclusive: I was allergic to Pradaxa, which I took for my heart troubles, and that was causing side effects. The doctor gave me a list of foods I was allergic to as well: milk, wheat, strawberries, pineapple…It was a long list.

  Dr. Taylor seemed satisfied when he spoke to me.

  “I’m pleased that you insisted on another round of tests, Mr. Spencer. You were right to do so. In the report I’ve prepared for Dr. Douglas I recommend that he try one of the latest-generation anticoagulants. It’s called Eliquis. The results have been good. I can’t guarantee that you’re going to feel better, but you should at least try it. Oh, and you should be careful about what you eat from here on out. The tests on your food allergies are conclusive. But you also have to take better care of yourself. If you don’t…well, you’re the one killing yourself. It’s all in the report. With a bit of moderation, you’ll start to feel better again soon. And luckily you can abandon this ridiculous idea that your wife and mistress are trying to kill you.”

  “So it was the heart medicine? Well, I guess that might be, but it can’t just be the pills that are killing me,” I said.

  “You’re not dying; stop saying that. You’ll feel better with the new pills. Let’s talk in a few months. Now relax awhile, maintain a healthy diet, stop smoking and drinking, and go home to New York. Take up your life where you left it off.”

  Dr. Taylor gave me an envelope with an extensive report, detailing the tests he had performed and his recommendations.

  “I took the liberty of sending it to Dr. Douglas at Mount Sinai as well,” he told me.

  Paul chuckled when I told him that the doctors claimed my illness was due to allergies.

  “It’s a shame it was a pill that almost did you in. Your theory was much more interesting. It’s better to die at a woman’s hands,” he said, laughing.

  I asked him to do me a favor, but he refused.

  I wanted him to call Esther and tell her that I had suffered a severe heart attack and was unlikely to survive, and to do the same with Olivia.

  “I’m not going to do anything that stupid. What are you hoping to get out of it?” he asked me angrily.

  “To see how they react.”

  “Oh, they’ll be clapping their little hands. You frickin’ moron.”

  Even without Paul’s help I decided to carry out my plan. I booked tickets for a flight the next morning and, a few hours before we boarded the plane, I made Doris call Esther and Olivia. I drilled her on what she had to say. She had to pretend to be a nurse at the hospital and to say that I had suffered a heart attack and that I was clinically dead.

  “You’re going to give them a real shock,” Doris said, without really knowing what I wanted to do.

  Or at least that’s what I thought, that she didn’t understand. But she did a good job. Maybe she was more skilled as an actress than I’d thought. I listened in on the conversation and waited for a sob, an exclamation, anything that would show how worried Esther was. But nothing of the kind happened.

  “So my husband is clinically dead. And is there any chance that he…that he’ll pull through?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m sorry. It’s impossible. The doctor will be in touch with further details. Are there any instructions you’d like to give me?”

  “No, I’ll wait for the doctor to call and then I’ll discuss my options with the insurance company.”

  “Please don’t concern yourself with the administrative details during this difficult time. The hospital will contact the insurance company. All you need to do is tell us if we should send the body home to you in New York, or if you prefer to come to Miami.”

  “Well, he’s dead now, so there’s not a lot I can do. Although I may come down. It wouldn’t be good for me not to do that, I suppose. When Dr. Taylor calls me I’ll figure it out.”

  Not a sob. Not a shade of pain in anything she said. My death was her liberation.

  The conversation between Doris and Olivia ran along the same lines.

  “Mr. Spencer told us that in case anything happened to him we should tell his wife and you. I’m sorry to have to deliver this terrible news.” Doris was extremely convincing.

  “Don’t worry, these things happen. Thomas has had a weak heart for years, and it’s not a surprise that something like this should have happened.”

  “Will you come to Miami?”

  “Oh no, I’m not his wife, I’m just…well, I’m a friend of the family. I wouldn’t be any use at all. Of course I’ll come to his funeral. And thank you for calling me, although there was no need.”

  Olivia’s voice was frigid. She was entirely indifferent to my death. My two wives, as Paul called them, had hardly reacted at all to my sudden death. I hated them for that and doubled down on my resolve to continue treating them badly.

  “When are you going to tell them that you aren’t dead?” Doris asked.

  “I’m not going to tell them. They’re going to find out for themselves.”

  After half an hour I asked Doris to call Esther again and tell her that the hospital had spoken to the insurance company and would send my corpse to New York.

  “You don’t need to come, Mrs. Spencer. He’ll be home tomorrow. He’ll be sent to the funeral home.”

  “Yes…it’s probably better for me to stay and organize the funeral. An excellent idea, thank you very much.”

  Paul called me, furious, to tell me that Esther had tried to reach him a couple of times to confirm that I really was dead.

  “And what did you say?”

  “Nothing, I didn’t talk to her. The girl took the calls. The first time I was out swimming, but Esther told her what she was calling about. The second time I didn’t want to answer. Leave me out of your shit, Thomas. Why the hell would you even think of doing such a thing, telling Esther that you were dead?”

  —

  We took the flight to New York. Doris had a couple of suitcases filled with new clothes. I gave her money for a taxi and went directly home.

  Esther wasn’t there. The rooms were empty and I felt a stab of nostalgia.

  I was changing my clothes when the maid came in. I hadn’t heard her. The woman gave a shriek that made me jump.

  “Are you crazy? Why are you screaming?”

  “You’re dead! Jesus…”

  “I’m not a ghost. What are you saying?”

  “You�
��re dead…” she managed to say.

  I laughed heartily. The woman was terrified. I asked where Esther was.

  “She didn’t sleep here. She called me first thing in the morning to tell me you had died…”

  I didn’t want to know anything else. I could guess where my wife had slept. I decided to try Olivia, although it wasn’t hard to guess that she wouldn’t be all that pleased to see me.

  I went to her apartment. I put the key in the lock, trying not to make any noise; I wanted to surprise her.

  I heard her talking to someone in the kitchen and went up behind her carefully. She had her cell phone in one hand and was putting the coffeepot on the burner with the other. I stopped dead in my tracks as I listened.

  “Of course, darling, I think it’s an excellent idea to have your brother as the best man. It would be a really lovely gesture on his part to give us the rings. I can’t wait. Yes, I promise there’s nothing that’ll delay us any longer. We’ll see each other tonight. They’ll bring the missing furniture first thing; I think you’ll like how it all looks. Goodbye, my love.”

  “Hello,” I said.

  Olivia turned around and swallowed a scream. Her face reflected the terror she felt at seeing me.

  “It can’t be! You’re dead!”

  “Unluckily for you, I’m alive.”

  Her face screwed up into a grimace of anguish. She knew what she could expect from me.

  “Yes, unluckily for me, you’re alive,” she said.

  She looked like she was about to faint. She sat down. First she lifted her hands to her face, then let her arms fall in a gesture of resignation.

  “I guess you’re the one who’s not looking so well.”

  “When’s this going to end, Thomas? When?” she asked me, holding back her tears.

  I didn’t answer. She was a broken woman. Exhausted by the battle she had fought with me.

  I could have said that I was there to free her; that I didn’t care if she married Jerry and exited my life forever:

  “It’s over, Olivia, get out of here. I don’t care. I’m tired of you. You have to be out of the apartment by tomorrow, I’m not going to pay for a single day more. I just came to tell you.”

  She would have regarded me with disbelief, and then with gratitude.

  “Oh, Thomas, I knew you couldn’t be as bad as you pretend to be!”

  “I’m not giving you another day, Olivia. They’ll throw you out of the apartment tomorrow,” I would have warned her again.

  “Of course. I’ll pack my bags, I’ll be out of here today. Thank you, Thomas…Thank you.”

  I would have left the apartment, and our relationship, forever. If I had done so, then Olivia would have forgiven me—and who knows, maybe I would have saved my own life.

  —

  But that scene didn’t take place. I didn’t say any of the words that might have meant her freedom.

  I treated her violently, so she could see just how alive I was. I left her breathless on the bed, cursing me.

  I arrived at the agency at midday. There were screams as I walked past the desks. No one was prepared to see a dead man. I walked into Esther’s office, and she looked at me in fright.

  “Christ! It’s you…I thought that you…”

  “Aren’t you happy to see me? Apparently some stupid nurse got me confused with another patient. You see, I couldn’t be healthier.”

  “That’s impossible!” she stammered.

  “Of course it’s possible, dear, here I am.”

  Esther stared at me, shocked, as if she were seeing her nightmares turned into flesh. There I was, tanned by the Miami sun, looking fit as a fiddle, enjoying her stunned expression.

  “But…I don’t understand!”

  “A nurse mistook me for another patient.”

  “But why were you in the hospital?” she managed to ask.

  “I told you on the phone, they were doing another checkup. I wasn’t happy with Dr. Douglas. Wasn’t that the right thing to do? Health is the most important thing at our age.”

  Esther seemed incapable of reacting. I saw that she was trembling, that it was hard for her to control herself.

  “Dr. Douglas is a good doctor, Thomas, and he told you that if you take care of yourself, take your medicine and relax, you can live a good many years more,” she said, breathlessly.

  The secretary’s voice on the intercom added to her suffering.

  “Mrs. Spencer, it’s Mr. Spencer on the phone, shall I put him through? He wants to know if he should come pick you up or if you’re going straight to his apartment.”

  Esther looked at me in terror and I smiled bitterly. Of course, the Mr. Spencer on the other end of the line was my brother, Jaime.

  “Tell him not to come. I’ll call him when I can.”

  “How considerate my brother is. Maybe he was consoling you for my failed death?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Jesus, Thomas, that’s not funny!”

  “No, it isn’t. So, I’m dead and here you are, working as if nothing happened and preparing to go and spend the night with my brother. Why? Do you need to go and feed his children? Take them out to the ball game? Oh, and get in bed with Jaime, that’s right. If I’m gone, then the problem’s gone as well. My brother wouldn’t be breaking the promise he made to his dad,” I said, unable to hide how much her relationship with my brother affected me.

  “We have to stop this…We can’t keep on like this. I…I’m sorry, Thomas, but I can’t control my feelings. I’m happy you’re alive, but…I can’t keep on like this, I’m going to go insane. I don’t know how to tell you, but we have to sort this out between ourselves. Jaime and I…”

  She stopped, unable to say what she had wanted to say to me for so long. I could have been generous with her, yielded to the evidence.

  Yes, that could have been the moment I set her free:

  “All right, Esther, we’ll sort things out as best we can. I’ll call our lawyers to draw up a divorce settlement. You understand that I’m not going to give you the agency or put everything we built together into your hands for you to waste it on Jaime, or with him. All our property is held in common, so let’s see what you’re left with.”

  Knowing her as well as I did, I’m sure she would have said, “Thank you for your generosity. We don’t need to argue about money. I’ll be reasonable. I will always be in your debt. You have been very generous to me.”

  “I’m glad you acknowledge that.”

  “And as for me and Jaime…We’ll always love you and be grateful that you’ve allowed us to be together. You can always count on us; we’ll be your family. We are your family, Thomas.”

  —

  But Esther could say none of this because I didn’t let this conversation take place. I wasn’t ready for her to be happy with Jaime. If she wanted a divorce, she would have to ask for it and we would have to fight over it in the courts. I would leave her out on the street and would ruin my brother, for good this time.

  Perhaps God was punishing me, or maybe my heart really was damaged. Or else Esther went back to giving me a higher dose of the new anticoagulant, or Olivia slipped some hydrangea leaves into the salad. In any case, a few days after my return to New York, I fainted in the office and they had to take me to the hospital.

  Dr. Douglas seemed more worried than before. I was in the ICU for a few days, and then they took me to a room where Esther was waiting for me.

  “Are you better?” she asked, without bothering to kiss me.

  “I will survive. In spite of you, I will survive,” I spat.

  “I don’t want you to suffer, Thomas, quite the contrary. I want you to be able to be happy, but you refuse to let yourself and won’t let other people be happy either.”

  “Right, so I’m not letting you be happy. The things I have to put up with! I thought that helping you become the best ad director in Manhattan might have made you happy, or having a huge place in Brooklyn and agencies in both New York and London might have
made you happy, or my doglike devotion might have made you happy…”

  “Please, Thomas, let’s not argue! Can’t we behave in a civilized way? We can discuss things calmly when you’re out of the hospital. Now you need to get better, that’s the most important thing. Dr. Douglas said that what you really need is rest. I think your nerves are affecting your heart.”

  —

  I was discharged a few weeks later. Esther was still in the guest room and we barely saw each other. I calmly called Olivia. I didn’t want her to feel like I was out of her life.

  “I don’t want to see you, Thomas,” she said when she heard my voice.

  “I don’t care what you want, Olivia. I’ll be at your apartment in half an hour. I don’t want there to be any sign of Jerry there.”

  She hung up on me, but that didn’t stop me from going to see her. When I entered the apartment she was waiting for me.

  “I don’t know what you want, Thomas, but don’t you dare lay a hand on me. This is over.”

  She stood up and went to the kitchen. When she came back she had a plate with a piece of cake on it.

  “I made it today, it’s dark chocolate, your favorite. Have a piece and let’s not fight.”

  I couldn’t resist, even though I knew that the dark chocolate could be laced with one of those plants Professor Johnson had told me about.

  “The chocolate’s more bitter than usual,” I said, to gauge her reaction.

  “Really? Well, I used the same chocolate as always, I don’t know…Maybe it’s your palate, after so long in the hospital.”

  I stayed there awhile longer, just to annoy her, because I had no strength to do anything.

  And until today I have made it a part of my routine to show up at her apartment without warning. I still eat her food, just as I allow Esther to keep giving me my pills every morning. I ask myself why I do it. Not even I understand my attitude. My wife seems eager to clarify our situation, but I refuse to talk about anything that isn’t my illness or matters of business.

  She reached a breaking point a few days ago.

  “Thomas, this can’t go on, it’s over.”

  She played hardball, but I played harder, knowing that being with her could put my life at risk again and that death might visit me at any moment. And yes, I think that tonight might be the night.