Mind Over Mind

by Karina L. Fabian

  “I noticed,” he’d said, and she whirled, nearly knocking down the cart with its many bottles.

  “Ydrel, you shouldn’t be here.” She had tried to sound stern.

  “Neither should you,” he’d responded, and bit back a sob. “Sachiko, I’m sorry! I know what a manipulative monster Malachai can be, and I didn’t say anything. I was, I don’t know, scared. I swear, I didn’t think he’d talk you into—” He couldn’t say it. He looked at her stomach instead.

  “What are you talking about?” she whispered.

  “I’m sure you’ll make the best decision for yourself,” Ydrel said, in a perfect imitation of Randall’s voice. “I do love you, Sachiko dear, although I think it’s in our best interests that this not happen at this point of our relationship.”

  Sachiko slid to the floor.

  “Sachiko!” He knelt in front of her and took her hands.

  “He dumped me,” she whispered. “He took me to the clinic.” She laughed a bitter, angry laugh. “He took me to the clinic, and then his mother called and he left. He spent the whole weekend with her in Boston. Called me once. Told me I had acted responsibly, and if I could take my shift Monday night, he’d arrange for someone else to finish the week. Like it was a big favor.”

  He felt the bile rising in her throat as if it were his own. Her self-hate bombarded his senses until he was dizzy. Her words swam in his mind: stupid, worthless—

  “No, you’re not!” Ydrel cried. “You’re wonderful and compassionate and the best thing that’s happened to this place in a long time! I trusted him, too, Sachiko. I’m psychic, and I believed his lies! And he’s just doing the same thing again, manipulating you, trying to make you leave. You’re not useful to him, so he wants to get rid of you—just like he’ll try to get rid of me if I ever stop being useful to him. Please, please don’t let him win. You’re too good a person, and you’ve done so much for us here. You have no idea what that orderly Roger used to do to us before you took over the shift. And you always take time for us, and you always know what to do. And—and you’re my friend. The only one I’ve got in this whole damn place.” He bowed his head and sobbed openly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t warn you. I was stupid, scared of Malachai. Please don’t kill yourself. If you do, I will, too, I swear. I can’t live knowing you’d— it’d be like I killed you.”

  “Stop it. This isn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe not.” He looked up again. She stared past his head, and he sat up so that she had to look him in the eye. “Maybe not all of it. But it’s not all your fault either. Don’t let him make you believe that.”

  “But I—” she started, and hadn’t been able to make herself finish. Then the tears had come, and they’d leaned into each other and cried together.

  Between sobs, he promised to use his abilities to protect her. And he had. And he would.

  *

  “You know,” Ydrel ventured suddenly, “you should tell Joshua.”

  “You’ve lost me. Tell Joshua what?” The “I-don’t-believe-this” tone of her voice said she knew quite well what he was saying. Still, he answered.

  “Everything. What you’re feeling. What happened before. Everything.”

  “And just what am I feeling?”

  She knew as well as he did, and knew he knew. He sidestepped the issue. “I trust him, Sachiko.” And he laughed. “I haven’t trusted anybody except you since, I don’t know, since before my mom died, I guess. Except Malachai, of course, but that was blind trust, and I learned my lesson. It took a year to truly trust even you. And here’s this teenage intern who only half-believes I’m not some deeply disturbed person, and I trust him right off the bat.”

  “He has that effect on people, doesn’t he?”

  He could feel as well as hear her mind’s suspicions vying with her heart’s desires. He decided to tip the balance. “Sach, he’s not like Malachai. I could never read Malachai. I don’t think anyone can. So I took him at face value, like an idiot.”

  “You weren’t an idiot. You were desperate for help, and he was offering.”

  He waved the reassurance away. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, I can read Josh. Have read Josh. He’s genuine. He says what he means and believes what he says.”

  When she didn’t reply immediately, he knew he’d won his point. Finally, she stood up. When she spoke, it was with annoyance, but he could see her smile in the dim light from the windows. “How’d we get on this tangent, anyway? I’m 29 and he’s just a kid, and even if I was thinking about it, I’m trying to get my medical degree in my off time. I don’t have time for this. Put your match-making away and let’s get you tucked in, capice?”

  Italian. She hardly ever spoke Italian anymore. He bit back his smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “Well,” Joshua said as he handed Ydrel back his graded practice test, “I don’t think you’ll be having any trouble with the GED.”

  It was Friday, and that morning, Ydrel had announced that he’d read the GED book and, if that was all there was to it, he was ready for the test today. So Joshua arranged for someone to monitor him—Floyd volunteered—while he took a timed practice test. A little more than half the allotted time later, Floyd had quietly called Joshua out of another group session (much to Joshua’s relief) to show him the test. “I don’t think he got one wrong,” the orderly commented, and he’d been right.

  Ydrel snorted and leaned back in his chair, a smug smile across his lips. They were in his room; Joshua was seated at the clean desk, and Ydrel was in the comfortable sitting chair, his back to the door. “How hard can it be with a photographic memory?”

  “Photographic memory, eh? You didn’t happen to look at the answer keys, just by accident?” Ydrel didn’t answer and Joshua purposely didn’t look at the young man’s face. “Anyway, I’ll bring a couple more tests on Monday for you to try. The practice never hurts. In the meantime, rack your brains and write down everything you’ve ever learned, or projects you’ve ever done, like your art. Books you’ve read, stuff like that. We’ll put it into a transcript/résumé you can use for college applications or job hunting. How are you at writing? Real writing, reports and such, I mean.”

  Ydrel thought for a moment, then smiled in bemusement. “I don’t know. I haven’t really written anything since I was…14, maybe? Wow. I used to write long letters to my Aunt Kate, but I stopped that pretty fast.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “Oh, I found out the psychs were reading them and putting copies in my file for further analysis. So much for privacy, eh?” Although, he spoke lightly, the young client’s eyes were dark with anger.

  Joshua couldn’t help agreeing. “Man, that stinks. Let’s start with something easy, then.” He scanned the books Ydrel had lined up on the shelf and pulled down a thick hardback with a yellow cover and a Greek-sounding name: The Landmark Thucydides. He was taking History of Ancient Greece in the fall; might as well let Ydrel help him get a head start. He scanned the back cover and asked, “Finished this one yet?”

  “I had some extra time this week.”

  “Smart aleck.” The Peloponnesian War. That was mentioned in the class summary. Score one for Joshaham! “OK, then, give me an 8-page summary by Tuesday.”

  “What?! Are you cr—kidding?”

  “Crazy. The word you are reaching for is ‘crazy.’ And, no, I’m serious. College profs just love eight-page papers. Don’t ask me why. It’s probably closer to sixteen longhand, unless you want to use a typewriter, double-spaced. Obviously, you summarize the main points, leave out a lot of detail—”

  “The text’s 554 pages long!”

  “Well, see there, Mr. Photographic-Memory? There’s one detail you can leave out. Unless, of course, you think it’s germane, like ‘This was 554 pages of the most painfully narrated—’”

  “Forget it. You can’t expect me to condense the whole book into a few pages.”

  “Why not? The editors did it in one.” Joshua held up the
book jacket.

  “Who cares?” Ydrel flared. “Playing school and writing stupid book reports isn’t going to get me out of here, so why bother?”

  Joshua sighed and laid the book down with great care. Then he turned to face the angry boy. Keeping half an eye toward the door, he looked at Ydrel and spoke in low, serious tones. “Now, you listen to me. I came here to learn and practice psychology, not to play best-friend-nursemaid-teacher to some spoiled patient who just happens to be close to my age. I’m putting in a lot of extra hours at night so I can devote a good percentage of my day to you, and in my off-time, I’m finding you books and materials I think you need to make it on the outside. I’m offering to build you a transcript and portfolio you can use for college or career—and believe me, that’s no easy task.”

  Ydrel gaped at him. Good. He had his attention. He pressed on, one hand on his hip, using the fact that he was standing to look down at Ydrel without looming. Dominant, but not aggressive.

  “Edith didn’t ask me to do this, you know. I’m not sure what she had in mind, but I’d guess it was more like being a sympathetic ear or playing catch or something, and I’d say you’ve had plenty of that.”

  “Hey!” Ydrel protested, but Joshua wasn’t about to give him a chance to say more. He held up his hand in the classic “stop” signal, and Ydrel pressed his lips together.

  “You want to get out of here? Fine. It’s time to stop whining and start working. Dr. Malachai is not the only person in charge of your fate. There are at least four psychiatrists involved in your case to some degree. There’s the support staff. What about your aunt and uncle? They pay the bills; they can arrange for your release or transfer anytime. Are you telling me that Dr. Malachai can overrule all of them, all the time and in concert? Then maybe you ought to think again about your paranoia. I meant it when I said that no one needs to convince people you’re nuts; you do a fine job of that on your own.”

  Joshua watched as Ydrel slouched and pulled his knees up—chagrined, sure, but Josh figured he’d felt like this before. Hadn’t changed his behavior, though.

  Joshua crossed his arms and put his weight on one leg. He gestured with an open palm, however. Skeptical, but willing to give Ydrel another chance. “If you want people to believe you can cope out in the real world, then you need to act responsibly in here. I can help you with that. But if you want to treat this like some game, that’s fine, too. Gnaw my ear off with your gripes while we play Disc Golf three times a week. That’ll make you happy, that’ll meet Edith’s criteria, and that’ll free up a lot of time I can devote to my studies and to patients who are serious about healing themselves.”

  He leaned back, bracing himself against the desk with his hands, giving Ydrel time and space to think about what he’d said. Nonetheless, he kept his gaze steady and his features neutral and open on his silent, downcast friend. C’mon, he urged silently, though he didn’t let his face reveal his thoughts, don’t run on me. Fight or talk, but don’t run this time.

  When Ydrel did look up, his eyes were damp with tears. “I thought we were friends.”

  “We are,” Joshua replied matter-of-factly. “That’s why I’m being straight with you. I could have just given up on you instead, you know. So, what’ll it be? Work or play? Or if you want time to think…”

  “No. I, I want to get out of here.” He sighed deeply, rubbed his eyes, then wiped his palms on his jeans before thrusting his right hand toward Joshua. “Let’s try it your way.”

  Joshua smiled and they shook on it.

  “But, Joshua, I don’t know how to write a book report.”

  “Really? You never did one in that fancy private boarding school of yours? No wonder my mom homeschooled me.” He turned back to the desk and Ydrel moved to look over his shoulder. “All right, first you need to decide what you think the most important part of the book is. There are a couple of ways to do that…”

  *

  “Sachiko, can I ask you a question?”

  “Why not? You’re overdue, anyway.” Sachiko looked up from her books and smiled at the young man who’d made it part of his routine to join her in the nurse’s lounge for dinner. Most of the time, he brought in a book or a case study and they passed the time in silence, but he’d obviously pegged her as someone he could count on for honest answers. It was flattering, but sometimes disconcerting. He could ask some real zingers.

  From the way he tightened his lips and glanced away, this would be one of them. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a bother—”

  “When you become one, I’ll let you know. What’s up?” She took the opportunity to open up her dinner of sushi and rice.

  “What were you guys saying about me at the nurses’ station this afternoon?”

  She paused, California roll halfway to her lips. “Oh. Noticed, did you?”

  “When you hear your name, then conversation stops when you approach, it’s kind of a give-away.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Just a couple of nurses acting immature. I was putting a stop to it when you came by.” She took a bite, hoping he’d take the hint and be satisfied with that.

  He wasn’t. “I heard Ydrel’s name, too. If people are saying things about my work with him, I need to know, if only to decide how to respond.”

  “Oh, no! That’s not it. Everybody thinks what you’ve been doing with Ydrel is great. And not just Ydrel. Carter Doleson. Dr. Hoffman may be bragging about how he, with your assistance, has achieved a ‘long-worked-for breakthrough,’ but some of us know better. And what you did with Isaac. Oh, Josh, I don’t think you realize what a load you’ve taken off us nurses, and I don’t just mean work-wise.”

  Joshua shrugged. “It wasn’t anything big.”

  “Yes, it is.” He’d set up a schedule for people to sit with the dying man. The staff—and some of the more stable clients—quickly rallied to fill the day, so that someone was always with him, whether playing games, talking, or just quietly reading in a corner of the room. The nurses had to give the volunteers a few instructions on what to watch for and, for those who were up to it, how to help him to eat and use the bedpan, but in the long run, it freed them from time and worry. Joshua had also printed out some information about Alzheimer’s that he’d found on the Internet.

  He smiled. “Everybody’s pitching in, after all. I’m glad it’s taken some of the burden off you nurses.”

  He’d almost said off you. She could tell by the pause in his voice. Maybe he tried to tell himself he’d done it for Isaac, but if so, he was lying to himself, and she knew it. What was she going to do with him? What did she want to do?

  “So what’s the joke, then?” he asked.

  Sachiko sighed. He wasn’t going to let this go. She really wished he would. She’d overheard some of the nurses talking about the “Joshua Show,” and had come to learn that they meant the hour when he and Ydrel played Frisbee golf outside, or, more specifically, how Joshua looked in shorts and a muscle shirt. She’d just begun to ream them for their unprofessionalism when Monique interrupted, “Like we haven’t seen you admiring the view!” She’d been searching for some appropriately scathing reply when Joshua’d shown up.

  “All right. This is so juvenile, and I was putting a stop to it, but some of the nurses have noticed you playing that Frisbee game—”

  “Disc Golf.”

  “Yeah, with Ydrel, and well—this is silly. It’s just that’s you’re young and attractive, and anyway…”

  “Is that all? OK.” With a shrug, he went back to the file he was studying.

  “‘Is that all?’” Sachiko laughed, her embarrassment forgotten. “What? This an everyday thing for you?”

  “Not every day. I’m in a band, is all. I’m used to being looked at.” Then he added, in a quiet, sly voice. “So you think I’m attractive?”

  She decided to ignore the question. “In a band, eh? You going to play for us tomorrow?”

  “Mm-hmm. Got to sing for my supper.” He turned back to reading silently, but
the small, impish smile on his face said her lack of answer was all the answer he needed.

  *

  Standing in front of the bathroom mirror the next evening, that grin was still on her mind. It was interfering with her ability to concentrate on her make-up, and her guests would soon be.

  Could he have taken her comments as implying a personal interest? Did she want him to? He had a good body—OK, say it girl, a great body—nicely muscled without being overdone, his skin rich and dark and almost glowing in the sun. She shook herself as if to break a spell and, sighing, picked out a lipstick.

  Worst part was, that wasn’t even the most attractive thing about him. If it had been, she‘d have been able to ignore it; she knew plenty of well-built guys. No, what set him apart was the way he looked at her, steady and intently, wholly focused on her.

  It wasn’t just her, she told herself. He treated everyone with that kind of intensity.

  Still, there was something...more...about the way he looked at her. And that smile…

  Stop being silly, she chided herself. He was just flattered. After all, you’re attractive, and young enough for your opinion to matter. She stepped back and appraised herself in the mirror. Her silky black hair was swept up into a neat roll, with a few ends artistically escaping from the top. Into it, she had stuck a couple of black lacquered chopsticks decorated with green dragons. Her make-up, though moderate, was done with effect, with green eyeliner accenting the exotic shape and tilt of her eyes. The jade dragon earrings she’d found at a Renaissance festival adorned her ears. Her black dress had a high collar, and its folds of silk covered her collarbone and draped over her shoulders before plunging daringly to the small of her back, perfectly framing her tattoo. An Oriental dragon of green and gold twisted its way across her back, so that its head rested just over and between her shoulder blades and the tip of its tail curled at the base of her spine. It had taken her forever to find a dress that showed it off to its fullest, and she’d had to run next door to get Cindy to help her with body tape that held it in place, but as she twisted to watch the fabric fall softly around her dragon, she knew it was worth it.