Methods of Madness

by Ray Garton

As Jason continued to scream, distorted thoughts limped, wounded, through Dani’s mind: Listen to Richard groan… look at Jason’s bone…

  The horror of what Richard had done finally sank in and, before it could become the horror of what she’d allowed him to do, Dani took in a long deep breath as she slowly lifted her head to scream at him and—

  —he was still standing at the top of the stairs groaning, such a deep, sickening groan, and—

  —when her eyes finally found him, her voice lodged in her throat like a thorn because—

  —Richard was doing something, a horrible thing that made Dani think for a moment that, somehow, her whole life had been a tragic mistake, and—

  —it was that thing, that horrible thing that her husband was doing, not the sight of her son’s exposed and splintered bone, that made her sick on the carpet.

  2.

  Jason felt better after the shot.

  The nurse who’d given it to him was nice. Tiny, like him almost, with bright red hair and freckles, lots more than he had. Her voice was very high, like an elf’s, and her name was Tina.

  Tina had been so afraid of hurting him, acting like maybe he was going to start crying when she brought the syringe to his bedside.

  “Okay, Jason,” she’d chirped, “you’re gonna be a big boy for me now, aren’t you? ‘Cause this’ll only hurt for a second, and it’ll make you feel a whole lot better.”

  He’d been in too much pain to protest, even if the needle had scared him. It hadn’t, though. A needle wasn’t so much.

  Tina stood by his bed after the shot, rubbing the stinging needleprick gently with a rubber-gloved little hand. As the minutes passed, ticked away by the unholy throbbing in his broken arm, Jason began to relax, stopped crying and breathed easier until he began to feel like… like… yeah, like cotton candy, the kind you get at the fair, real light, fluffy and sticky.

  “Feelin’ a little better?” Tina asked, lightly patting his behind.

  “Mm-hm.”

  “So how’d this happen, big fella?” she asked, tossing the needle and syringe into a plastic-lined silver trash bucket. “Were you fightin’ off the girls?”

  “I tripped on a rollerskate and fell down the stairs,” he replied without a second for thought.

  “Mmm.” She walked around the bed to face him. “Well, that ice’ll make the swelling go down, then Dr. Saunders’ll fit you up with a brand new shiny white cast for all your friends to sign. How’s that?”

  He tried hard to smile as he nodded, but his lips felt a little numb.

  Tina left him alone behind the mint green curtain.

  If everyone in the hospital was as nice as Tina and as funny as the chubby man who had taken X-ray pictures of his arm earlier, Jason hoped he’d get to stay for a while.

  Otherwise, of course, he would have to go home.

  At least he’d done nothing more to upset his dad. When he left the hospital, he could honestly tell his dad he’d answered the doctor’s and nurse’s questions just as he’d been told to do in the car on the way there.

  The curtain squeaked in its plastic track on the ceiling when Dr. Saunders pulled it aside and stepped through, smiling.

  “Jason,” he said, “how’s that swelling coming? You got it down for us yet?”

  Jason just smiled a little; his tongue was much too heavy to speak.

  Dr. Saunders had snow white hair that was very short, cut high above his big ears. He wore black rimmed glasses on his craggy face; the lenses made the little twinkles in his eyes look much bigger. He was tall and skinny and his long arms seemed rubbery within the sleeves of his white coat. His voice was rough but soft, and his breath smelled of sweet smoke, like burning cherries.

  “That shot’s a whopper, huh?”

  Jason nodded.

  “Makes you feel sorta like your head’s a balloon and the string’s coming loose, huh?” He perched himself on a stool and wheeled it over to the bed, adjusting his glasses on his sharp nose and looking down at Jason through the bifocals.

  “That falling down stairs, Jason,” he said solemnly, “that’s no good. That’ll have to stop.” He took a good look at the ice bag wrapped around Jason’s arm, then looked at his face for a long time. “Tell me, Jason. How did you get this little scar here?” He touched a fingertip to Jason’s upper lip.

  “Fell on the sidewalk.”

  “Well, what’re we gonna have to do with you, son? Put you in a wheelchair?”

  Jason laughed wearily. He wasn’t used to adults joking with him; it was a pleasant, refreshing surprise.

  “You’re all alone in here, Jason. Most kids want their mom or dad in here with them. Keeps them from crying. But not you. You’re a brave boy.”

  Jason closed his eyes for a moment; Dr. Saunders’ voice was soothing.

  “Don’t you want your mom or dad in here? Don’t you wonder where they are?”

  After a few seconds of warming up his rubbery lips, Jason said, “S’okay if they had to go.”

  “No, no. They haven’t gone anywhere. They’re right outside. You don’t really think your mom and dad would go off and leave you. Do you, Jason?”

  He licked his lips slowly; his mouth had gone dry. “Maybe to clean the carpet. ‘Fore it stains. S’okay.”

  Dr. Saunders frowned and took Jason’s right hand from the bed, holding it in his big palm as he looked at the pink, slightly raised scar on the pad of flesh between thumb and forefinger.

  “And where did this come from?”

  “I was… playing with… matches.” Jason was beginning to feel very sleepy and didn’t really feel like talking, but the responses came automatically, cutting through his foggy head, just as rehearsed.

  “And this one on your finger? A cut?”

  A heavy, slight nod. “Mom’s… sewing… scissors.”

  “Aaahh. Jason, where was your dad when you fell down the stairs?”

  “Be… side me.”

  “I see. Too bad he couldn’t have stopped you.”

  “S’o… s’okay.”

  Jason’s leaden eyes closed very slowly as Dr. Saunders said, “You just relax, Jason. I’m gonna give you another once-over.”

  “I want a cigarette,” Dani whispered. Her voice sounded harsh in the empty waiting room.

  “I thought you quit.”

  “You know I quit. But I want one.”

  Richard stood and the sofa’s green vinyl upholstery crackled its relief. “I’ll get you a pack.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Cafeteria. For coffee. You want some?”

  “Yeah. A cup.”

  Dani realized they were both speaking in flat monotone voices, barely above a whisper, like alien invaders in a bad movie.

  Richard left and Dani stared up at the black and white television mounted on the wall. Cheers was on, but the sound was too low to hear. It was an old episode, way before Diane Chambers ran off with her ex-fiance to write a book instead of marrying Sam. That meant it was one of the syndicated episodes, so it had to be somewhere between eleven and twelve o’clock. She tried to remember when they’d arrived, couldn’t, and gave up trying.

  Her gray shirt was splotched with blood from holding Jason in her arms in the car. The blood was drying to a stiff crust.

  The ride to the hospital had been a nightmare. Jason screaming in her arms, quaking in pain… Richard trying to keep an eye on the road as he said over and over, “Now, what are you going to tell the doctor, Jason? Remember? About the rollerskate? What are you going to tell the doctor?”

  Dani was glad Richard was gone, glad she was alone. She didn’t want to be near him. She leaned forward, folded her arms over her knees, and rested her vaguely aching head.

  “Where’s Mr. Campbell?”

  She snapped upright. Dr. Saunders stood over her, hands in his coat pockets.

  “He… went for coffee.” She stood clumsily and hugged her purse to her stomach. “How is Jason?”

  “Heavily sedated and in a
tremendous amount of pain. Will you come with me, please?” He didn’t smile or look her in the eye, didn’t even wait to see if she was coming, just turned and started out of the room. He stopped at the reception window and said to the graying woman at the desk, “Jessie, when Mr. Campbell comes back, would you send him straight to my office, please?” Then he was gone, out the door and down the corridor.

  Dani tried to keep up with him on weak legs, thinking, It’s serious, bad, maybe they’ll have to operate or… Christ, what if he loses it, what if Jason loses his arm?

  She followed Dr. Saunders into a small cluttered office that smelled of pipe tobacco. He closed the door, cleared some books from a folding chair, and gestured for her to sit. When she did, he leaned his hips on the corner of his desk, folded his long arms over his chest and said, “Which one of you beats Jason, you or your husband?”

  Dani’s jaw dropped, she released a gush of breath and stammered, “Wh-what—what’re you—I don’t under—”

  “Or whatever it is you do, beat him, burn him, cut him. You or your husband? Or do you take turns?” His creased face was colder than death and his eyes were steel bearings glistening in their sockets.

  “We-we-we told you, he slipped—”

  “—on a rollerskate, yes, you told me. But, unfortunately for your son, I’m neither blind nor stupid, and I’m telling you that I don’t buy it. You have a lot to drink tonight, Mrs. Campbell?”

  “I-I-I… “ She stopped, knowing that any further attempts at speech—let alone an explanation—would be futile.

  “Your husband, too, hm? Smells like wine, am I right? And it does smell, Mrs. Campbell, don’t kid yourself. It’s a wonder you weren’t all killed on the road.”

  Dani felt light headed, trembly, like she might pass out. She let her purse slide down between her feet and clutched the edges of her chair, as if to keep from floating away.

  “We… just had… some wine… with dinner.”

  “Some wine,” he said doubtfully. “How many bottles?”

  Before she could attempt a reply, there was a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” the doctor said.

  Richard peered in uncertainly, stepped inside and closed the door. His face was expressionless at first, but when he looked at Dani, he frowned, sensing her discomfort.

  She took in a deep breath to tell him… what? She didn’t know and didn’t try to speak.

  “I’d offer you a chair, but I’m short,” Dr. Saunders said. “Which is too bad, because I think you’ll need one. I was just explaining to your wife here that it’s pretty obvious to me you’re unfit parents. Both of you.”

  Richard stared at him blankly for a moment and when the words registered, his eyes became stormy. “What… what the hell’re you—”

  “Shut up, Mr. Campbell. Give me any trouble and I’ll have you canned for DUI. You’d probably set a blood alcohol record in the lab.” Saunders spun, stepped around his desk, and took a seat.

  Dani felt sick.

  “By law,” Dr. Saunders said, “I’m required to turn you in, no questions asked. But I’ve been that route before and I’m not too keen on the way the system handles this kind of problem. They seem to think that—”

  Richard’s face was the color of strawberries when he barked, “Wait just a minute, here, just who the hell do you think you are, goddammit, telling us—”

  “I think I’m what you’ve been dreading, Mr. Campbell, and if you don’t shut your mouth and listen to what I have to say, I’ll make things much worse for you than you’ve imagined, I promise.”

  “B-but… he slipped,” Richard said, his voice suddenly drained of anger.

  Dr. Saunders gracefully locked his boney fingers together beneath his sharp chin and he spoke softly. “Mr. Campbell, that boy has more nicks and scars than my favorite pair of black leather motorcycle boots, which I’ve had since seventy-four. No one… no one… is that clumsy. Now, if I turned you in, Jason would be taken from you. But that usually does more harm than good. So I’m not going to do that. I know of something better.”

  Dani looked at Richard; his face had become slack, cheeks sagging, jaw loose. Even his shoulders drooped in a physical display of guilt and defeat. He leaned back heavily against the door looking sick.

  Dr. Saunders went on. “I know a doctor. Dr. Krusadian. He works wonders. I don’t know what his methods are, but I’ve seen the results. So here’s what we’ll do. No trouble, no hassle, we’re just going to handle your problem in the quickest, most efficient way I know. If it doesn’t work, we’ll go from there. I’ll call Dr. Krusadian and tomorrow—”

  Richard stepped forward suddenly, face white, mouth working. “Listen to me,” he breathed, lips trembling. “Listen to me, please, I… I don’t want any trouble. If we can just… just forget about this, maybe I could… well—” A desperate, pathetic little chuckle wiggled from his throat and Dani, for a moment, almost pitied him. Almost, “—maybe I could add a little something to… to your bill? You know? May… maybe?”

  Dani suddenly wanted to throw up.

  Dr. Saunders stared at Richard for a long time. Smiling. When he finally spoke, he did so softly at first, slowly building to a growl as he rose to his feet and dug his knuckles into his desktop.

  “Have you ever seen a ruptured anus, Mr. Campbell? I don’t mean one that’s just torn a little and bleeding. I mean an asshole you can stick your arm into up to the elbow. I’ve seen that, Mr. Campbell. I used to be a prison doctor. Ugly. Ugly. That’s the kind of thing they do to child abusers in prison because they hate them. All those murderers and rapists? They abhore people like you, and to tell you the truth, I wouldn’t mind running an industrial power drill up your ass myself, but because I’m not in a position to do that, I’m trying to help you straighten up and keep your family together, and if you don’t shut the fuck up and cooperate, I promise you, I’ll recommend they throw you into prison for the rest of your miserable life and you’ll be shitting into a cholostomy bag within your first week. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Campbell?”

  He stared at Richard with hateful, deadly eyes, and when he got no response other than a look of impossible horror and dread, he returned to his chair and cleared his throat softly.

  “I’m going to have Dr. Krusadian drop by and see you tomorrow evening. He will then proceed with his treatment and, whatever it is, you will cooperate. You will cooperate happily. Otherwise, I will, quite simply, ruin your life.” Another smile, big and flashy and filled with satisfaction. “I’m keeping Jason here for the night. You can pick him up tomorrow afternoon. I will see him once a week for the next six months. If he shows up with so much as a mosquito bite that I don’t like, I’ll crucify you. Clear?”

  They both stared at him silently. Dani knew she would vomit soon.

  “I said… clear?”

  Richard nodded silently.

  “Now,” Dr. Saunders said, “if you don’t mind, I’d rather not look at you anymore. Call a cab. If you drive home in your condition, I’ll have the cops on you so fast you’ll think you died and went to hell. Good night.”

  Dani couldn’t stand up.

  Richard didn’t move.

  Dr. Saunders raised his snowy brows. “Alcohol effect your hearing? I said, good night.”

  As soon as they were in the corridor, Dani looked for a restroom but didn’t find one in time and vomited into a drinking fountain.

  Dr. Saunders leaned out of his office and said quietly, “Get some paper towels and clean that up before you go.”

  3.

  The weather was changing.

  Clouds were curling across the night sky, blocking the stars and, finally, the platinum moon.

  Dani stood on the sidewalk in front of their house and watched the night lights disappear from the sky as Richard paid the cab driver, her back to the idling car. She looked at the house; they’d left quickly and the lights were still on, making the windows glow.

  So that’s how it looks, she thought. From the o
utside.

  Richard walked by her as if she weren’t there, went through the gate, and up the front path.

  She followed him into the house and asked, “What about the car?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, if you take the Samurai to work, how will I pick up Jas—”

  “Call April. Have her drive you.” He crossed the living room, turning off the lights as he went, and slowed to step over the caked patch of vomit on the carpet. Climbing the stairs wearily, he said, “Clean that up.”

  Dani watched him, her gut seizing up. An unbearable weariness washed over her and she began to cry quietly although she fought the tears; she knew Richard would be annoyed if she cried, aggravated, maybe even angered, but she had to speak.

  “Richard? Don’t you think we should talk?”

  “About what?”

  “About… about what we’re going to do.”

  “Do?” He turned at the top of the stairs and laughed at her coldly. “We’re going to do exactly what the doctor ordered.” He shuffled toward the bedroom.

  “But… but—” She couldn’t just drop it; they hadn’t spoken a word in the cab and she felt empty, gutted, “—shouldn’t we… talk? Richard? I’ll pour us a drink.” There was a long silence as Richard stood in the hall staring at the floor, then Dani whispered, “Please?”

  “Come to bed. You’ve had enough to drink.”

  When she heard the bedroom door close, Dani muttered, “No, I haven’t.”

  She had a tall glass of wine over ice before she cleaned up her sickness on the living room floor.

  Shortly before dawn, Dani sat up in bed and choked back a scream.

  It had happened again in a dream, the accident. But seeing Jason fall again was not what had shot her from her sleep.

  It had been Richard.

  He’d stood at the top of the stairs again, but naked and in murky shadows, groaning and shining with sweat as he did that thing…

  That horrible thing.

  4.

  The next morning, April drove Dani to the hospital to pick up the car. The cloudy sky was the color of dirty steel and the breeze was armed with a cutting chill.