Just a Little Bit Crazy

by T A Ford

  Doc,

  Thank you for the best Christmas gift in the world. You are part of my story. A very important part. You are the man I love. Thank you for believing in me, rescuing me, and helping me learn how I can save me. Remember that no good deed goes unrewarded. Remember me. I will always love you.

  D.

  She left a postscript. It asked that he turn to page in the book. A tribute to their love. He flipped the pages and found it. She had circled an exchange between them and drew hearts. She wrote along the side of the page ‘From the first time to the last time Doc, I have always felt this way.’

  He smiled. He read the text she’d circled. It was after sex between the protagonist Jordan and his love interest Maria. Maia said to Jordan: “I die each time. Do you not die?” And Jordan responds: “No. Almost. But did thee feel the earth move?” To this question Maria answers: “Yes. As I died.”

  It was beyond romantic, it was Dina. Ernest Hemingway had captured the subtext of their relationship. How deeply love was felt between them. He closed the book. His brother glanced back at him surprised by the noise. “Everything okay?”

  “No,” he said and tossed the book aside. “I need to see her.”

  “See who?” his brother asked.

  “You know who,” he said.

  “Why? What could seeing her do for you? Nothing but bring you more trouble. Tell me something. First it was Bridget, and now her. Is there some problem you have with choosing women that are bad for you?”

  “She is nothing like Bridget.”

  “Oh? Right. She was your patient. And all of this I’m reading says you knew damn well that you shouldn’t have crossed the line. You’ve published books on the ethics of your profession. Seriously? Give me one defense. Something! Why would you throw everything away for her?”

  “Why would you sit in an office behind law books for the past twenty years and throw nothing away on any woman?”

  “You don’t know my personal life,” Charlie scoffed.

  “Right. Well it doesn’t matter why I did it. What matters is that she needs me. I need to talk to her. Tell her something...” he mumbled.

  “That’s not true, brother. I read that little note she left for you in that book. She was saying goodbye. You’re the one that can’t let go. She’s gone. It’s best you respect it.”

  Clinton didn’t want respect it. He was over alcohol. Didn’t miss it. Didn’t want it. He’d had many chances to gamble in the brief time he had been behind bars, and didn’t even care. But Dina? He couldn’t get her out of his system.

  But in the next few days he found he had no choice. He was forced into one closed door hearing after another. And day by day he was stripped of everything. The APA found that Robinson and Singh, along with a few other medical doctors, had done things much more dangerous than his offenses. Clearview Mental Health Facilities was now on lockdown. The investigation would bring about years of lawsuits. And Clinton found himself in the middle of it all. The ADA’s assistance in his case got his charges reduced, as his brother predicted. He was given no more than probation and plenty of fines. The stiffest punishment was the death of his career. He was no longer a doctor. He sleepwalked through most of it, thinking of Dina. Wanting her. Missing her. Dying inside each day without her.

  Two months later he returned to her bench in Piedmont Park, feeding pigeons slices of bread. Winter was leaving, ushering spring in slowly. But it was still chilly for the end of March. He should have worn gloves.

  “Do you know that there are at least a hundred benches in this park?” a woman asked.

  He glanced over to see Maura standing next to his park bench. She smiled that lovely smile of hers. She had changed. Her long braids were gone. She wore her hair cut short in a pixie style that framed her face nicely. He nodded at her and smiled in return, then moved over so she could take a seat.

  “I told you to meet at the one by the lake,” he said.

  “Have you walked around this lake Cue?” she asked as she sat down. “I was about to give up.”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t go by Cue any longer. He’s dead. Blew him up on a bridge.”

  “Huh?” she frowned.

  “Inside joke between me and Dina. Just call me Clinton. Glad you found me. I’m glad you agreed to come and meet with me.”

  “I was surprised when you called,” she said. “I saw on the news that you were free. I thought you would have moved by now. I guess it’s not over for you, huh? You’re working with the prosecutors against those doctors. Looks like you got off easy.”

  “Is that what you think?” he asked. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but his tone made clear how insulted he felt by the mere suggestion. Maura looked away from him. She stared at the ducks.

  “You want to know how she is and I can’t tell you,” Maura said.

  “She doesn’t want me to know?” he asked. “Or because the courts say you and I can’t discuss her because you’re her guardian?”

  “Guardian?” Maura choked. “She emancipated herself over a month ago. I can’t tell you because I don’t know. She doesn’t want any of us to know how she is,” Maura said.

  “What?” Clinton asked.

  “She’s gone Doc. That’s what she calls you, right? Doc. Whenever she’s stressed or upset, she used to say her brother’s name over and over. Now she says yours.”

  “What do you mean she’s gone?”

  “Her new doctor had her on a mild anti-depressant after Rodney got a sentence of five years. She had a breakdown. They moved him to a penitentiary in New York. It was awful. We were in court when the judge announced it and Dina screamed and screamed. She had to be carried out by the guards. The psychologist recommended a psychiatrist who could help her. And she got better. Stronger. But she’s still Dina,” Maura smiled. “This doctor said she was fully capable with her Asperger’s and that her compulsive stuff—the books and stickers and cleaning and all of it—was just who she was. She wasn’t broken for us to fix. She should be emancipated. He went to the courts with her and got me removed. I became the enemy. The person trying to control her like you and Rodney. The next thing I know, she used her money that Rodney left for her to move out. And she started dancing again.”

  “Dancing?”

  “Flamenco,” Maura smiled. “One day she came to visit and told me she was leaving.”

  “To where?” he asked, when Maura’s pause took too long.

  “Columbia,” Maura said.

  Clinton laughed. “Columbia? Dina can’t fly. She said she would never fly again.”

  “No, Doc. She left with that flamenco dance troupe to do a cruise out of South Florida that ends in Columbia. They are performing together. She and that Matteo guy drove away into the sunset. I couldn’t stop her. It nearly broke Rodney when I told him she was gone. He didn’t believe me. Hell, I don’t believe it. But just like that she’s gone. She’s free.”

  “You let her go to Columbia?! With that asshole?!”

  Maura frowned. “She’s an intelligent adult woman with a just bit of crazy, like us all. How was I supposed to stop her?”

  “She’s not free. She’s with him,” he said.

  “It’s her choice. Before she left, she worked out a lot of her issues in therapy. She told me that she believed in herself again. Maybe you should believe in her too.”

  Clinton couldn’t respond. His head was spinning under the news. He was on probation. He couldn’t leave the state, let alone the country. What if she needed him? What if he needed her?

  “Well, I thought it was best that I told you in person. Now you know. Please stop calling.” Maura stood.

  He reached and grabbed her arm. “Are you sure she’s okay?” he pleaded.

  Maura looked down at his touch and then him. “You know her, what do you think?”

  He let go of her arm and Maura walked away. He sat on the park bench staring at the family of ducks. She was gone. But he knew, what they shared was far from over.

  Eight
Months Later -

  Clinton Walsh waited his turn, impatiently. The prison officer noticed. He walked into the room and locked eyes with Clinton first before he called the names from his iPad tablet. When Clinton heard his name, he stopped pacing and joined the others to be processed. He knew the routine. Though his time in jail was short he’d not forgotten the heaving burden of feeling alone and forgotten in the jail. The Federal Correctional Institute in Maryland was quite different than maximum security prisons. The visiting room was sprawling and spotless. Clinton took a seat at a table and waited. The inmates walked in. Rodney was the second to the last to arrive. Clinton stood. His longtime friend had put on some muscle. He wore moss green khaki’s with a white button down shirt and workman’s boots. He was shaven clean except for the goatee mustache.

  “W’sup brother,” Clinton said, unsure of how Rodney would react after so much time had passed.

  Rodney gave him a brotherly hug and smiled. “Didn’t know if you would come, Cue.”

  Relieved Clinton took his seat. Rodney calling him ‘Cue’ was a good sign. It was the name given to him when they were in college.

  “Congratulations man,” Rodney began. “Heard about your appeal.”

  “Thanks,” Clinton said.

  “Probation reduced and Maura tells me you are back in Maryland.” Rodney nodded. “There goes that white privilege again bailing your ass out.”

  Clinton laughed. He knew the comment didn’t come from a place of malice. Rodney smiled in earnest. They both sat there smiling for a moment before Clinton spoke. “I’m not a doctor anymore. Can’t practice anything. And I’m still being sued out of the ass, by everyone. Probation is reduced, not gone. Got it moved up to Maine and I can travel a bit, as long as I don’t leave the country, piss in a cup, and kiss my PO’s ass.”

  Rodney nodded. They sat in silence for a moment and then Clinton broke the silence again. “So you got moved here? Congrats. Nice.”

  “Yeah, more freedom. Maura is up here once a month to remind me I’m still her man,” Rodney smiled.

  “Guess you got a little of the white-collar privilege.”

  Rodney nodded. “Touché.”

  “Brother, I don’t know where to begin. So much has happened, since, you know, since it all went down.”

  “No shit,” Rodney sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. “So you know, she’s disappeared.”

  “It’s a condition of my probation to say I don’t know. No contact.” Clinton sighed. “I did reach out to Maura. I guess I know only what you want me to know.”

  Rodney smirked, “Maura told me you talked.” He sat forward. “Look man, I never got a chance to talk to you. Shit went bad and then it got worse. But I know now you cared for my sister. I know you wanted to help her. And I believe you when you said you didn’t plan for things to go down the way it did. But that means nothing now. She’s out there. She has her money and she’s with people we don’t know or can trust.”

  “I try not to think about her,” Clinton said. He looked away. “Makes me crazy every time I do.”

  “Yea, me too.” Rodney agreed. “You know in here I got a lot of time on my hands to think. Minimum security, it’s more like a resort than prison. But I’m still behind bars.” Rodney said.

  “What do you think about?” Clinton asked.

  Rodney smiled.

  “Second chances. What every man like me and you thinks about.”

  “I’m fresh out of them,” Clinton said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Listen bro, she needs us. You know Dina can’t go to no fucking Columbia with that freak. It’s dangerous.”

  Clinton nodded. “What can we do? She’s already there. Isn’t she?”

  Rodney glanced back at the guard and then leaned forward to keep his voice down. “Didn’t you tell me that Xander was in Mexico?”

  Clinton eyes stretched. His younger brother was rumored to be in Mexico now. And if the rumors were true Xander wasn’t doing anything that a man behind bars and a man on probation should want any parts of.

  “I know you two got issues,” Rodney began.

  “Xander can’t be trusted. I rather skip out on my probation and go find her myself.”

  “That won’t work. Maura says she’s determined to keep you and I out of her life. Dina just got her settlement payout. She has several million dollars. This dude took her away like that.” Rodney snapped his fingers. “We need to find her and bring her back. We don’t what kind of trouble she’s in. Your brother might be able to help.”

  Clinton nodded in agreement. “I should be the one.”

  “But you won’t be. Neither will I. That’s our fault. Now you down to help me or not?”

  Clinton sat forward and put his head in his hands. “It’ll take me some time to find Xander.” He then looked up at Rodney. “And it’ll take money to convince him to help us find her.”

  “Maura will be in touch with you. I can handle it.”

  “Do I want to know how?” Clinton asked. Rodney glanced to the guards. Clinton looked behind him to see the men watching Rodney.

  “It’s best you don’t,” he said.

  “I’m with this plan.”

  “Thanks Cue. It’s the second time I’ve come to you for help with my sister. Let’s get it right this time. Together.”

  “I have only one condition,” Clinton said.

  Rodney brow arched. He frowned. “What condition you putting on my sisters life?”

  “My love for her Rodney. It’s the real thing. I want her back. I want your blessing. She needs to hear it. I need to hear it.”

  Rodney wiped his hand down his face. He slumped back in his chair. “Dina, she’s...”

  “She’s the one for me man. I’ll protect her, love her, you can trust me.”

  Rodney looked up into his eyes. “Yea. I can trust you. Okay. All I want is for her to be happy. Dina walks into this prison and tell me that she can be happy with you, then you got it bro. Just find her. No matter the cost. Find her and bring her back.”

  Clinton extended his hand and shook Rodney’s. “No worries. I don’t care what it takes. She’s coming home to us both.”

  Book II to Release Soon...

  DINA ERICKSON STORY continues...

  In Cartagena Columbia, Dina is the star talent for the Flamenco Dance Academy. Her beauty draws the attention of a powerful man. His desires and her loyalty to another puts her in the center of a dangerous feud between brothers. A man sent to rescue her, proves to be the most dangerous of them all.

  About the Author

  T.A. Ford lives in southern Georgia and is the proud aunt of three. She enjoys the arts, writing, and travel. Her romantic tales are told from the perspective of women often not featured as leads in romantic tales

  Read more at T.A. Ford’s site.