Methods of Madness

by Ray Garton

  He sipped his drink and savored it a moment before taking it down. “You may think this presumptuous of me because we’ve never met, but I’m quite confident that I know exactly what you’ve done to your boy, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell. Oh, I’m not sure what you’ve done to him physically, but here—” He tapped his forehead. “—I know what you’ve done to him up here.

  “They are such amazing people, children. So… sturdy. They have to be. They must endure so much, don’t you think? Or—” He grinned, “—do you give any thought of that sort of thing? Probably not. Like so many people, you are probably too wrapped up in your own many problems to concern yourself with such a little, insignificant person. We all have problems. Demons, they are. Build up inside you like a sickness until you must, somehow, expel them. But too often, they are expelled onto… into… the children.”

  Lightning flashed in the window, shining like inspiration on Krusadian’s broad face.

  “But they have demons, too, you know, the children,” he went on. “Demons we know nothing about. We had them, too, back then, but adulthood has a way of sweeping them up and putting them away. Or dressing them up and calling them nostalgia. We remember the school bully and we smile. We forget that, back then, that bully was the stuff of nightmares, a dreadful monster waiting around the next corner with his fists clenched. We forget that, and the children, then, must endure it alone. And they do endure.

  “But they must also, too often, deal with our demons because we can’t endure them, we’ve forgotten how. So we pour them into the children, beat them in, as if we sense their strength and wish to exploit it. But, strong as they are, the children, they are not that strong. No one is.

  “And yet, they endure somehow. For a while. Until they can no longer. And they… they change. It becomes too late. They grow up with their demons—so many demons—from their childhood, from their parents. And those demons must be expelled. So those children turn to their children. And it goes on and on.”

  He smiled at Richard warmly, sympathetically. “Perhaps you’re like that, Mr. Campbell. Perhaps you’ve had too many demons pounded into you for too long, and now you are continuing the chain.” He turned to Dani. “You, too, perhaps. I don’t know yet. If that is the case, you have my sympathies. I grieve for your pain. But.” His smile evaporated and his face became stern, hard. “That is irrelevant. You are adults now. You’re all grown up. You should know better. My concern now is with Jason. Which is why I am here. The chain breaks with me. Here and now.”

  Dr. Krusadian sipped his cafe mocha, put down the cup, and sat very straight and stiff.

  Dani chilled.

  Suddenly, Dr. Krusadian meant business; the small talk was over and he seemed to be rolling up his sleeves in his mind.

  “My job,” he said, “is to remove from Jason all of the demons you have inflicted upon him. They are ugly, I promise you. Hideous. Once I have removed them—if I can, that is, but I have confidence—once I have done that, do you know what I’m going to do next?” He smiled, tapping a thick finger on the table and turning looking back and forth between the two of them. “After I have removed your son’s demons, I am going to show them to you. And I promise you this: you will learn from them.” He took another loud sip. “It usually takes only one night, but each case is different and I will work at whatever pace I deem necessary. During that time—by the way, Mr. Campbell, what is your occupation?”

  “I’m… uh, I’m a contractor. My company, we, uh, built this neighborhood. Galaxy Heights.”

  “How nice for you. And you?” He turned to Dani and hiked one thick brown high over his right eye.

  “Nothing. I mean, um, I’m a housewife.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow is Saturday. If it will be necessary for you to go to work tomorrow, Mr. Campbell, you will have to make arrangements to be away from the office. Until we are finished here, neither of you will go anywhere or see anyone. Is that understood?”

  “Hold it,” Richard said, raising his palms. “Just… hold it.” He stood and began to pace.

  From the way he was chewing on his lips, Dani could tell he was trying very hard to temper his words, and she was somewhat relieved.

  He said, “I was willing to cooperate with whatever, uh, counsel Dr. Saunders saw fit. Whatever problems we may have, I don’t think they’re as serious as Dr. Saunders makes them out, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to, you know, talk to someone. Besides that, Saunders didn’t give me much choice. But… Jesus, this is just… you can’t just barge into my house, just move in like this, and tell me I can’t even go to work—I mean, that’s our living. How do you think I’m gonna pay you? I’m… well, I’m sorry, Dr. Krusadian, but I don’t like the way you work. I’m very uncomfortable with you. I’d like to cooperate, I really would, but… I can’t. Not like this. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

  Dani was moved. She knew how difficult it was for Richard to remain so calm and speak so eloquently. She found herself actually feeling proud of him and thinking that maybe things weren’t so bad after all, maybe they could change.

  Dr. Krusadian had listened carefully to Richard, sitting straight in his chair, one hand over his cup. A few seconds after Richard stopped talking, the doctor said, “Are you finished?”

  “Yes. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is finished.”

  Dr. Krusadian nodded. “First of all, unlike Dr. Saunders, I take no payment for my services. None. This is not my business. It is my calling.” He looked beyond Richard and eyed an open bottle of wine on the counter. “Also unlike Dr. Saunders—” He scraped his chair backward and stood and the room seemed to darken. “—I am giving you no choice whatsoever. You will cooperate with me fully.”

  The doctor moved forward and Richard, wide eyed, scooted quickly out of his way.

  “If you do not,” Krusadian continued, lifting the bottle and sniffing with disapproval, “I will notify the proper authorities. I will not waste my time with the police or the county or the state, nothing like that.” He turned the bottle over and wine gurgled into the sink. “I will notify… the proper… authorities.” Holding the bottle, he turned to Richard. “I will, in fact, Mr. Campbell, come down upon this household like the iron fist of God and you will regret the day your mother opened her legs for your father.”

  Richard clenched his fists, eyes darting between the empty bottle and Krusadian’s face, as if trying to decide which outraged him more.

  “Dani,” he growled, “call the police.”

  “If you call the police, Mrs. Campbell, they will come. But when they leave, it will not be I who leaves with them. They will take away your husband, I assure you, accompanied by flashing red and blue lights that will attract the attention of everyone in the neighborhood.” He turned to Richard. “Within hours, everyone you know as well as God knows how many total strangers will be aware of your dirty little secret. That does not, of course, include all of the newspaper articles and court appearances. All very public. And, if your luck is especially sour, perhaps Geraldo Rivera will decide to do a live prime time special on child abuse and one night after you’re out on bail, he will burst into your bedroom with cameras and—”

  “All right, Jesus Christ, all right!” Richard screamed, hitting empty air with downswinging fists. He went on quietly, taking shallow staccato breaths between his words. “All right, all… right, all… right… “

  “That is what concerns you most, isn’t it, Mr. Campbell? That others might find out? What you do? In your home at night?”

  Dani was shocked to see Richard’s shoulders hitching with sobs. He turned his back to her and leaned his forehead against the refrigerator door and cried quietly.

  Dr. Krusadian put his hand on Richard’s back; the hand engulfed an entire shoulderblade. The gesture was sympathetic; his voice was not.

  “Do it my way,” he said, “and no one knows. No one but us.”

  Richard did not respond, but Dr. Krusadian nodded as if he had.

  “First,�
�� the doctor said, “under no circumstances are either of you to question anything I do at any time. Ever. Now, we will empty all of these.” He handed the bottle to Dani. “Every swallow of alcohol you have in the house goes into the sink. We don’t need it.”

  Numbed and walking through a stranger’s dream, Dani took the bottle, went to the wine cupboard, and removed all the others.

  Dr. Krusadian asked Richard, “Do you have a basement?”

  Richard moved away from the refrigerator rubbing his eyes. “What… what has that got to do with—”

  “I believe you are about to ask a question, Mr. Campbell. Don’t. It is against the rules, remember? Now. A basement?”

  Richard led him to the back of the kitchen to the basement door.

  Opening the door, the doctor reached in, flicked on the light, and peered down the stairs. “Mm-hm. Fine.” He closed the door and smiled at them. “Just fine. Now, why don’t you introduce me to Jason?”

  Dani stepped away from the sink, suddenly on guard. It struck her all at once; they weren’t going to get rid of him, this strange and frightening man was going to stay, and worst of all, he was going to be alone with Jason. She was about to protest when Richard spoke.

  “Is there… anything else you want to tell us? Doctor?”

  Krusadian grinned. “One more thing. If either of you raise a hand to the boy while I’m here I’ll kill you. Both of you if necessary. Now.” He gestured gallantly toward the kitchen door and took one step backward. “After you.”

  13.

  He’ll terrify Jason, Dani thought as she followed the boy downstairs.

  Jason wore his ALF pajama bottoms and a T-shirt Dani had cut to fit over his cast.

  Dr. Krusadian was standing at the fireplace, hands joined behind his back as he looked down his broad nose at the pictures on the mantle.

  The gurgling of bottles being emptied into the sink came from the kitchen.

  In the living room, Dani said, with the slightest tremble in her voice, “Jason, this is Dr. Krusadian.”

  The doctor turned quickly, spread his arms, and grinned enormously.

  “Jason!” he said as if greeting an old friend. “How nice to meet you. I see you’ve been to the Land of Disney.” He waved toward the picture. “You must tell me all about it. I’ve never been.” He quickly moved to Jason’s side and leaned forward, putting his arm around the boy, leading him to the sofa.

  Dr. Krusadian seemed a different person suddenly, sparkling and animated, almost… childlike. As far as Dani could tell, there was no fat beneath his black suit. Nothing shifted or jiggled when he moved; his body was concrete.

  “Wait right here for me, Jason,” he said. “I’ll be with you in a moment. I have something for you. We’ll have a grand time together.” Krusadian lifted his head, dropped his smile, and bellowed, “Mr. Campbell? Time to go upstairs.”

  Richard came from the kitchen. “What?”

  “Come.” Krusadian went to his black bag and removed two things: a golden box the size of an average alarm clock and a small metallic object that chittered when he dropped it into his suitcoat pocket. He went up the stairs and, after exchanging a quick, unsettled glance, Dani and Richard followed.

  “You listen to the doctor, honey,” Dani said over her shoulder as she climbed, not really meaning it. Tears were burning in her throat and she wanted to tell Jason he didn’t have to listen to a goddamned thing that black monster said, but—

  —I’ll kill you. Both of you if necessary—

  —she knew she couldn’t do that.

  “You listen to him,” she repeated, stopping on the stairs to look at her son, so small on the big sofa below, “but… if you want me, honey, you… you just hollar. ‘Kay?”

  He nodded and looked away.

  Dr. Krusadian stopped outside their bedroom and faced them, gestured to the door and said, “After you.” He didn’t look inside to see if it was a bedroom; he just… knew.

  He followed them in.

  Richard leaned on the dresser with both hands, watching Krusadian in the mirror.

  Dani sat on the bed, craving a drink. But they were all gone, every drop. She remembered some Valium in an unmarked bottle in their bathroom medicine cabinet and turned her eyes to the door, to the rectangular mirror over the bathroom sink, deciding to take one of the pills when Krusadian left them alone, even if she had to chew it dry.

  The doctor stood before her, swallowing her field of vision, and said, “Mrs. Campbell, will you please give to me all of the pills and any other consciousness altering drugs you have in this room.” It was not really a request.

  Dani said, “But I don’t… well, we don’t keep any—”

  “Don’t make me look for them.” He looked around the messy room distastefully. The bed was unmade and clothes and underwear were strewn over the floor. “I wouldn’t particularly care to do that.”

  She went to the bathroom shaking, still fighting tears, and got the pills. She considered keeping a couple—just a couple—even dropped them into her quivering hand, but—

  —I’ll kill you—

  —she knew she couldn’t do that, either.

  Dr. Krusadian dropped the little bottle into his pocket and held out his hand again, saying curtly, “The cannabis. I can smell it.”

  “The-the-the—”

  “Mari-juanaaaa.”

  Vision blurring, she went to the dresser, nudged Richard aside, opened the top drawer and got the little plastic bag of grass, muttering, “My God, Jesus, Jesus Christ… “ It was just a little bit, not even an eighth, and they only smoked on the weekends, not even every weekend, and it was so old, hardly had any aroma at all, how could he possibly—

  “Thank you.” Into the pocket. He put the gold box on the corner of the dresser. “A music box, in case you would like some music. I am going to work with Jason for a while.” He went to the door. “You two… work with each other.”

  They stared at him blankly.

  “In other words, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell… talk.” He grinned. “Just… talk for a while.” After he pulled the door closed, there was a brief insect-like chittering sound on the other side, metallic, as if he were tapping two spoons to the door.

  Then he was gone.

  Richard looked at her as if to say, What the hell was that? then crossed the room and tried the door. The knob turned, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Jesus Christ!” he barked, pounding the door with a fist. “He locked the—” He spun on her, glaring, “—can you believe this? He locked the goddamned door!”

  “Richard… “

  He began to pace. “We’re locked in our own goddamned bedroom!”

  “Richard… “

  “How did he do it? He must’ve put a—”

  “Richard, maybe we should—”

  “Shut up. Just shut up, okay? I don’t want to talk. I just… I just want… I want a drink, is what I want.” He turned on the nine inch color television on his nightstand and first sat on the bed, then laid back, hands locked behind his head. “I just… don’t want to talk,” he sighed.

  Dani went to the bathroom to find the Maalox; her stomach was rebelling, shooting great bursts of flames up into her throat. She heard the roar of a crowd coming from the television; Richard was watching some sports event. She wished she could lose herself in something so easily.

  When she found the Maalox, the bedroom door burst open and she quickly left the bathroom to find Dr. Krusadian in the room again, staring with burning disapproval at the television.

  “This will never do,” he said, crossing the room. He picked up the set, jerked the cord from the wall, and started back out.

  “Son of a bitch!” Richard shouted, shooting to his feet. “That’s it, I mean, that is really it! You can’t—”

  The television flew across the room. Dani did not see Dr. Krusadian throw it, just saw it miss Richard’s head by spare inches and hit the wall with a thick pop. Glass shards sang together in chaotic harmony a
s they scattered and fell. The back of the set came off when it hit the floor.

  Richard stood swaying in the middle of the room, then lowered himself to the bed.

  Dani blinked again and again, hoping she’d imagined it. She hadn’t.

  “Do you have a question, Mr. Campbell?” Dr. Krusadian’s voice made Dani’s teeth vibrate and ache as if they were being drilled.

  Richard stared, swallowing frantically again, as if something had caught in his throat.

  “There is much to be done,” the doctor said. “You have no time for television.”

  He pulled the door closed.

  Locked it from the other side.

  Dani heard the soft thumps of his footsteps on the carpet fade down the hall.

  From downstairs, she heard him laugh, “Jason, my boy, alone at last!”

  In the bathroom again, Dani didn’t bother with the small measuring cup she usually used; she took three generous swigs of the thick chalky liquid straight from the bottle and waited for it to dowse the fire in her gut.

  Before it had the chance, she threw it back up.

  14.

  Jason heard the television implode.

  He remembered a man who spoke on career day at school last month, a television repairman named Buddy. He talked about all the things a television repairman is required to know and do in his work and Jason remembered Alicia Brandstetter—a mean, sour-faced girl—asking what would happen if you kicked the television screen really hard, like she wanted to do last week when a newscaster came on to show pictures of the president going on some stupid trip to Russia right in the middle of Thundercats. Buddy said it wouldn’t just crack or break open, it would implode. That, he explained, was the opposite of exploding; the picture tube would blow inward on itself instead of out because it had a vacuum inside.

  At first, Jason was confused, wondering how anyone could possibly get a clunky old vacuum into a television screen, but Buddy explained that a vacuum wasn’t something Mom used to clean the carpet.