Godplayer

by Robin Cook

  “Do you think my sister would want to see me?” asked Maureen finally, her face wet with tears.

  “I think she might,” said Cassi. “But we won’t know unless you ask her.”

  Maureen blew her nose. Her hair was stringy and in need of a wash. Her face was drawn, and, despite her medication, she’d continued to lose weight.

  “I’m afraid to ask her,” admitted Maureen. “I don’t think she’ll come. Why should she? I’m not worth it. It’s hopeless.”

  “Just thinking about talking to your sister is a hopeful sign,” Cassi said gently.

  Maureen let out a long sigh. “I can’t make up my mind. If I call her and ask her and she says no, then everything will be worse. I want someone else to do it. Would you call her?”

  Cassi flushed. She thought of her own indecisiveness in facing Thomas. Maureen’s feelings of dependency and helplessness seemed all too familiar. She too wanted someone else to make her decisions. With exhausting effort, Cassi tried to concentrate on the woman sitting across from her.

  “I’m not sure it’s my place to contact your sister,” said Cassi. “But it’s something we can talk about. As far as seeing your sister, I think that is a good idea. Why don’t we talk about it more tomorrow? I think you’re scheduled for a session at two.”

  Maureen agreed and, after taking several more tissues, went out, leaving the door open.

  Cassi sat for some time, staring blankly at the wall. She felt certain that identifying with one of her patients was a sign of her inexperience.

  “Hey! How come you aren’t in team meeting?” said Joan Widiker, doing a double take in the corridor after catching a glimpse of Cassi.

  Cassi glanced up but didn’t answer.

  “What’s going on?” asked Joan. “You look a little worse for wear.” She stepped into Cassi’s office and sniffed. “And I didn’t know you smoked.”

  “I don’t,” said Cassi. “Colonel Bentworth does.”

  “He came to see you?” Joan raised her eyebrow. “You’re doing better than you think.” She paused and then sat down.

  “I thought I’d let you know that Jerry Donovan and I went out. Have you talked with him?”

  Cassi shook her head.

  “It didn’t work out too well. All he wanted…” Joan stopped in midsentence. “Cassi, what’s the matter with you?”

  Tears overflowed Cassi’s eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  As she had feared, a friendly presence destroyed her self-control. She finally let go and, dropping her face into her hands, wept openly.

  “Jerry Donovan wasn’t that bad,” said Joan, hoping a little humor might help. “Besides, I didn’t give in. I’m still a virgin.”

  Cassi’s body shook with sobs. Joan came around the end of the desk and put her arm around her friend’s shoulder. For a few moments she said nothing. As a psychiatry resident, she didn’t have the usual negative reaction to tears that lay people did. From the strength of Cassi’s emotion Joan guessed that she needed the outlet.

  “I’m sorry,” said Cassi, reaching for the tissues just as Maureen had. “I didn’t want to do this.”

  “Sounds like you needed it. Do you want to talk?”

  Cassi took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It all seems so hopeless.” As soon as she said the word, Cassi remembered Maureen had said the same thing.

  “What’s so hopeless?” asked Joan.

  “Everything,” said Cassi.

  “Give me an example,” said Joan, challengingly.

  Cassi pulled her hands away from her tear-streaked face.

  “I went to the ophthalmologist today. He wants to operate, but I don’t know if I should.”

  “What does your husband say?” asked Joan.

  “That’s part of the problem.” As soon as Cassi spoke, she regretted it. She knew Joan, being both sensitive and clever, would piece together the whole picture, and, in the back of her mind, Cassi could hear Thomas telling her not to discuss her medical problems with anyone.

  Joan took her hand from Cassi’s shoulder. “I think you need someone to talk to. As the official department consult, I’m at your service. Besides, anyone can afford my fee.”

  Cassi managed a weak smile. Intuitively she knew she could trust Joan. She needed someone’s insight, and God knows she wasn’t doing too well on her own.

  “I don’t know if you have any idea of Thomas’s schedule,” began Cassi. “He works harder than anyone I know. You’d think he was an intern. Last night he stayed in the hospital. Tonight he’ll stay in the hospital. He doesn’t have a lot of extra time…”

  “Cassi,” said Joan politely. “I don’t like to interrupt but why not save the excuses. Have you spoken to your husband about this operation?”

  Cassi sighed. “I tried to bring it up a few hours ago, but it was the wrong time and place.”

  “Listen,” said Joan. “I rarely make judgments. But when it comes to talking about eye surgery with your husband, there is no wrong time or place.”

  Cassi digested this comment. She wasn’t sure if she agreed or not.

  “What did he say?” asked Joan.

  “He said he wasn’t an eye surgeon.”

  “Ah, he wants to delegate his responsibility.”

  “No,” said Cassi emphatically. “Thomas made sure I went to the best ophthalmologist.”

  “It still seems a rather callous reaction.”

  Cassi looked down at her hands, thinking Joan was too clever. She had the distinct impression that Joan could take this conversation further than Cassi would like.

  “Cassi,” asked Joan, “is everything all right between you and Thomas?”

  Cassi could feel the tears filling her eyes again. She tried to stop them but was only partially successful.

  “That’s one way of answering,” said Joan empathetically. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Cassi bit her trembling lower lip. “If something happened to my relationship with Thomas,” she said, “I don’t know if I could go on. I think my life would fall apart. I need him desperately.”

  “I can sense you feel that way. I also think that you don’t really want to talk about the problem. Am I right?”

  Cassi nodded. She felt torn between her fear of Thomas and her guilt at rejecting Joan’s offer of friendship.

  “Okay,” said Joan, “but before I go, I think some advice is in order. Maybe it’s presumptuous for me to say this, and it’s certainly not professional, but I have a feeling that you should try to lessen your dependency on Thomas. Somehow I don’t think you give yourself the credit you deserve. And that kind of dependence can really hurt a relationship in the long run. Well, enough unsolicited advice.”

  Joan opened Cassi’s door, then stopped. “Did you say that Thomas was going to spend tonight in the hospital?”

  “I think he has emergency surgery,” said Cassi, preoccupied with the concept of dependency. “When he does, he usually sleeps over rather than suffer the forty-minute commute.”

  “Fine!” said Joan. “Why don’t you come home with me tonight? I’ve got a sofa bed in the living room and a fully stocked refrigerator.”

  “And by midnight you’d know all my secrets,” said Cassi, only half in jest.

  “I’d be on my honor not to probe,” said Joan.

  “Anyway, I can’t,” said Cassi. “I appreciate the offer, but there’s always the chance Thomas might not have surgery and, in that case, he could come home. Under the circumstances I want to be there. Maybe we’ll talk.”

  Joan smiled sympathetically. “You do have it bad. Well, if you change your mind, give me a call. I’ll be in the hospital for another hour or so.” She opened the door again and this time really left.

  Cassi stared at the Monet trying to decide if it was safe for her to drive. It was reassuring to note that her vision had significantly improved; the drops were finally wearing off.

  Thomas felt his hands tremble as he opened his office door and switched on the light. The cloc
k on Doris’s desk indicated that it was almost six-thirty. It was already dark outside, making it hard to remember summer nights when it stayed light to nine-thirty. Closing the door, he held out his arm. It scared him to see his normally steady hand shake so violently. How could Cassi keep pressuring him when he was already so tense?

  Approaching his desk, he opened the second drawer and pulled out one of his small plastic bottles. The combination of the child-proof top and his agitation made opening the package impossible. He had to restrain himself from dashing the thing on the floor and stomping on it with his heel. Finally he managed to extract one of the yellow tablets. He placed it on his tongue despite its bitter taste and walked into the small washroom, which still reeked of Doris’s perfume.

  Forsaking a cup, Thomas bent and drank directly from the faucet. He went back to his office and sat at his desk. His anxiety seemed to be increasing. Wrenching open the second drawer again, he fumbled for the same plastic bottle. This time he was unsuccessful with the top. Slamming the bottle down on the desk top only succeeded in denting the wood surface and bruising his thumb.

  Closing his eyes, Thomas told himself that he had to stay in control. When he opened his eyes, he remembered that in order to open the bottle he had to line up the two arrows.

  But he did not take another pill. Instead his mind conjured up the image of Laura Campbell. There was no reason for him to be alone. “I wish there was something I could do for you,” she had said. “Anything!” Thomas knew he had her phone number in her father’s folder, ostensibly for emergency use. But wasn’t this an emergency? Thomas smiled. Besides, there were many ways to camouflage his intentions if he’d misread her signals.

  Thomas found Mr. Campbell’s folder and quickly dialed Laura’s number, hoping the woman was at home. She answered on the second ring.

  “This is Dr. Kingsley. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Is something wrong?” asked Laura worriedly.

  “No, no,” assured Thomas. “Your father is doing fine. I’m terribly sorry about his jaundice. It is one of those unfortunate complications. I wish we could have anticipated it, but it should clear soon. Anyway the reason I’m calling is that your father will undoubtedly be discharged soon, and I thought, perhaps, you’d like to discuss the case.”

  “Absolutely,” said Laura. “Just tell me when.”

  Thomas twisted the phone cord. “Well, that’s why I’m calling. I’m sure you can guess what my schedule is like. But it so happens I’m waiting for a surgery and am presently alone in my office. I thought, perhaps, you might consider coming over.”

  “Can you give me thirty minutes?” asked Laura.

  “I think so,” said Thomas. He knew he had plenty of time.

  “I’ll be there,” said Laura.

  “One other thing,” added Thomas. “To get into the Professional Building at this hour you must go through the hospital. The doors here are locked at six.”

  Thomas hung up. He felt much better. Excitement had replaced anxiety. Opening the desk drawer, he dropped in the container of pills. Then he called the cardiac catheterization lab to check on the patient in cardiogenic shock. As he had expected, the patient was still awaiting catheterization. No matter what the procedure showed, Thomas guessed he had several hours.

  Thomas met Laura at the door to the inner office and motioned her inside. He was pleased to see that again she was wearing a thin, clinging silk dress. It was a light beige, almost the color of her skin. Thomas could see the faint line of her panties.

  He didn’t speak for a moment, plotting his opening so that if he’d misread her signals there wouldn’t be any embarrassment. He began by reassuring her once again that her father would soon be discharged. Then he discussed Mr. Campbell’s long-term care, and under the pretense of discussing his exercise limitations, Thomas brought up the issue of sex.

  “Your father had asked me about this before the operation,” he said, watching Laura’s face. “I know that your mother passed away several years ago, and if this is an uncomfortable subject for you…”

  “Not at all,” said Laura with a smile. “I am an adult.”

  “Of course,” said Thomas, letting his eyes run over her dress. “That is very obvious.”

  Laura smiled again and smoothed her long ponytail off her shoulder.

  “A man like your father still has sexual needs,” said Thomas.

  “As a physician I’m sure you know that better than most,” said Laura. She’d uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. It was clear she wasn’t wearing a bra under the sheer silk.

  Thomas got up from his chair and came around in front of the desk. He was certain Laura hadn’t come to talk about her father. “I understand these needs all too well myself because I have a wife with a chronic, debilitating disease.”

  Laura smiled. “As I said, I wish there was something I could do for you.” She stood up and leaned against Thomas. “Can you think of anything?”

  Thomas led her into the dimly lit examining room. Slowly he helped her out of her dress and then stepped out of his own clothes, folding them neatly on a chair. When he turned back to face her, he was pleased to find himself fully erect.

  “What do you think?” he asked, with his palms spread out to the sides.

  “I love it,” said Laura huskily, reaching out for him.

  After having worried about driving, Cassi was glad that her trip home was pleasantly uneventful. The most hazardous part had been the walk from the garage to the house. She’d forgotten how early night came now that it was December.

  The house itself was ominously black, particularly the windows, which shone like pieces of polished onyx. Inside Cassi found a note from Harriet explaining how to heat up dinner. Whenever Harriet got the word that Thomas was not coming home, she left early. As contrary as Harriet could be, Cassi would have preferred not to be alone.

  She went through the house snapping on lights hoping to make the place a bit more cheerful. She found the rambling old house with its cavernous spaces particularly chilling, her footsteps echoing down the empty halls. The heat was supposed to be turned to sixty-five degrees, but Cassi could see her breath.

  Upstairs the morning room was considerably warmer, almost comfortable. In the master bath she had a supplementary quartz heater, which she turned on. After testing her blood sugar, Cassi went ahead with her usual insulin dose, then took a shower.

  She tried not to think too much. Her emotional outburst had left her drained and had settled nothing. She knew Joan was right about her dependency, and it reminded Cassi of the identification she’d felt with Maureen Kavenaugh. Just like her patient, Cassi felt hopeless, timid, and fearful. She wondered if she too lacked the ability to influence her life even when she understood her problem. Then in a flash of sudden horror, Cassi became aware of the power of her denial. One of the reasons she’d suspected that Thomas was abusing drugs was because of his pupils. So often of late they had been mere pinpoints, but Dexedrine caused dilated pupils! Other drugs caused small pupils. Other drugs that Cassi did not want to think about.

  Cassi could feel perspiration appear on her palms. She did not know if it was from sudden terror or from her insulin. Praying that her fears were groundless, she forced herself down the hall to Thomas’s study.

  Flipping on the light, she stood there, her eyes recording all the details of the room. Against her will, she recalled the consequences of her previous visit, and she fought against the urge to flee.

  The medicine cabinet in the bathroom was exactly as it had been two weeks earlier: a mess. It contained nothing that was suspicious. Getting down on her hands and knees, Cassi searched beneath the sink. Nothing. Then she went through the towel cabinets. Again nothing.

  Feeling a modicum of relief, Cassi went back to the study itself. Besides the desk and burgundy reading chair, there was the sofa bed, bordered by two end tables with lamps, a hassock, an entire wall of bookshelves, a liquor cabinet, and an antique highboy with claw feet. The floor was
covered with an enormous Tabriz carpet.

  Cassi walked over to the desk. It was an imposing piece of furniture, which she knew had belonged to Thomas’s grandfather. As she reached out and touched the cool surface, she had the same naughty sensation she’d felt as a child, snooping in her parents’ bedroom. Shrugging her shoulders, she pulled out the center drawer. A plastic desk organizer was filled to overflowing with rubber bands, paper clips, and other odds and ends. She pulled the drawer out to its limit and carefully lifted the layers of papers toward the back. Nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, Cassi was about to push it closed when she thought she heard a door slam. Peering through the window, she could see the lights in Patricia’s apartment over the garage. She hadn’t heard a car, but that wasn’t too surprising. With the storm windows down, sounds from the outside did not penetrate the house too easily. She could see the garage door was closed. Had she closed it? She couldn’t remember. A moment later there were footsteps in the hall. Panic knotted her stomach. Obviously Thomas had come home. If he caught her in his study after the episode with Patricia, he’d be furious. She looked around frantically, wondering if she could slip out through the spare room. But before she could move, the door opened.

  It was Patricia. She was as surprised to find Cassi as Cassi her. The two women stared at each other in disbelief.

  “What are you doing in here?” Patricia said finally.

  “I was about to ask you the same question,” returned Cassi, standing behind the desk.

  “I saw the light go on in here. Naturally, I thought Thomas had come home after all. As his mother I think I’m entitled to see him.”

  Cassi unconsciously nodded as if she agreed. Actually it had been a constant source of irritation for her that Patricia had a key to the house and felt no compunction about entering whenever she wanted.

  “That’s my excuse,” said Patricia. “What’s yours?”

  Cassi knew she should have simply replied that it was her home and she could go into any room she pleased. But she didn’t. Her sense of guilt made it impossible.