Chapter

 33

Something broke into the images. My shoulders were being grabbed as my mind was drawn into the smooth, clean tube beneath the avalanching curl, the clear, quiet power of blue ice waiting to shift and explode...I was peering into the vortex of death...I was looking into the eyes of the priest as I...

“I don’t care what it takes,” I screamed into the telephone. “You’re my doctor. You figure it out. I’m not walking around another day waiting for that crazy son of a... “

“Calm down, Charlie,” Mathews said. “Calm down. I can’t do anything for...”

“And don’t call me Charlie. Charlie’s frozen back in the ice.”

“Okay. Okay. You just tell me what you want me to call you,” Mathews answered with the quiet tone that was his trademark. “Just let me know.

I looked around me. I was in a phone booth on the concourse of Radio City. It was rush hour and hundreds of people were passing by outside on their way to the subway. The angry faces waiting for their turn in the booth didn’t make it easier. I thought of Sara and the sound that had worked before. I let the quiet vibrations calm me as I took deep breaths, exhaling slowly...

“Hello?  Charles.  You there still? Charles? Is that who I’m talking to? Tell me,” prodded Mathews.

I knew the quiet ohmming I was creating had to sound like the desperate patient he was making me out to be right now, but I didn’t care. It was helping.

“Charles? I hear someone. Take your time,” he continued.

I wanted to kill him. He was patronizing me with that textbook—schizo approach. I thought he knew me. I’d just spent 5 minutes telling him what had happened. He knew my anger over the confessional experience was like any little kid would have over a bad nightmare. Back in LA we had talked it all out. He knew. He knew.

“You’re the one that said my emotions might have to grow and develop like a child’s.  Well...this is it.”

“This is what? Talk to me,” he said with reassuring professional know how.

“This is just a… maybe a growing...the child somewhere inside trying to...” I lost it.

I wept quietly there in the phone booth for several moments, then feeling enough together said, “This is Charles, doctor. Charles Randall. That’s all I’ve ever been. That’s all I know.”

“Yes,” he said cautiously.

I allowed another glance at the growing line of agitated callers waiting outside the booth, cleared my throat, and took another deep breath, “So, thanks for hearing me out. I’m...I guess I owe you an apology, but I don’t feel like going through all that right now, Okay?”

“Okay,” he said.

I looked for a hanky, a tissue, something for my nose. My pockets had nothing. I never carried such things.

Tap tap tap, came the sound from behind me. I turned and there was Max stepping back from the phone booth, conscious that being too close might look like he was nosy. He was holding a napkin from the news stand/snack counter next door where he and Julian had been respectfully holding vigil over my strange behavior.

I reached out the door and took it, smiling a thank you. I filled that one, and he handed another through the door. I smiled another thank you…raised my head to the growing frustration of the callers wanting to get in the booth and said, “Thank you too. I’ll be just a moment.”.

The angry faces got angrier.

Max turned his attention to the group. “Those are real tears, folks. I wouldn’t get too close, if I were you. He just found out he’s contagious with you know what, and... “

The group of anxious callers gave each other a confused glance and moved down the hall to the next booth.

Max winked.

I really liked this kid.  I turned back to the phone. 

“Look…I’m okay now...”

“You didn’t tell me where you were, Charles.”

“A phone booth across the street.:

“From where, Charles?”

“Nowhere in particular. Look, I don’t want to deal with whatever this is again until I get back. Maybe you could... “

“Charles,” he said, “I’ve already told you I don’t write prescriptions… that went with the license.”

“Not asking for drugs...just tell me what I can take, across the counter, I don’t care.  Just something to calm things down till I get back there. Then...then you can do whatever you need to. But I’m not finished here yet, and...”

“Charles, you sure you’re alright now?”

“Yeah.  I’m okay.  I’m okay.

 “When are you planning on coming back?” he said.

“Day or two...something like that.” I blew my nose again.

“Well, I don’t understand what that means, but, damn it, you’re not in a particularly good space. Sure I can’t talk you into... “

“No. I’ll be back when it’s time to be back. You going to help or not?”

“Okay, Charles, there is Valerian you can get across the counter, but hold your breath when you open the bottle.”

“What?” I said.

“Not the best smelling pills in the world, but effective…temporarily. It works pretty well on anxiety. There’s a pharmacy on the corner of 8^th and 59^th. It’s close to the Holiday Inn. It’s not going to solve anything, Charles... “

“How’d you know I was at the Holiday Inn?” I asked.

“Well, you’ve got a message from me there when you get back.  Sobel called here. Wanted to chastise me for playing Charles and after she calmed down…been a day Charles, I’ll tell you. She told me to get in touch with you at the hotel and have you call her.”

“Why didn’t she call me herself? Why you?”

“Charles...I know you believe what you believe but she’s got her own problems. And right now, you’ve made her a jilted woman, so... “

“Why is she telling you these things?”

“I guess we shrinks have a habit of making it easier for people to say how they feel.”

“Okay. Point made.”

“Tough part for her is she’s got some unfinished business she needs to have you wrap up and... “

“There isn’t going to be any Charlie anymore,” I said.

“Not for Charlie. Charles Randall is who she needs to speak with,” he corrected.

I paused a moment. Something didn’t feel right.

“Charles?” Mathews said. “From what she told me, there’s some additional business needing Charles Randall’s signature. It’s papers she needs signatures on.”

“Just like that. And you obviously think it’s a good idea.”

“What, you seeing her again?” he asked.

“No. HER seeing ME again. She doesn’t believe me.”

“Charles...look, I’m just your doctor, like you said. I do carry a particular kind of responsibility on your behalf, but the Charles Randall I’m dealing with, has responsibilities as well. You’re determined to make Randall work. Okay. Part of Randall is wrapped up in the other guy’s life, so you have to clear all that up, sooner or later. I’m sure there’s a lot of money involved. Where there’s a lot of money, there are usually a lot of potential problems. So—God I sound like your financial advisor now—you have to deal with that. Go see her. She told me ‘strictly business’ her words. She knows you’re under my care, or was. Right now, you’re under your own, till you want to change that. I’m not pressuring anything, just...just take care of what needs to be taken care of and go slow. Go slow and enjoy yourself. Enjoy Charles in New York. It’s a great town, you know. You sure you okay now?”

“Think so,” I replied, feeling stronger, relaxed and concerned I may have judged him wrong.

“You got the pill name, right… Valerian. You have my number. Good luck, Charles.”

“Thanks. Yeah.  Thanks a lot doctor.” I hung up.

I stepped out, relieved that I had brought under control whatever it was that was trying to destroy me. I took another deep breath, and found myself giving a different kind of thanks, a different kind of communication from what I had experienced before today. I saw the eyes again...the kind eyes of the priest that had rescued me. “Thank you God,” I said without having thought about it. Another familiar feeling...just discovered.

I stepped up to the kind eyes of my two friends, waiting patiently for the customer that had given them an unexpected “tour” of his own. I tried to smile the right way.

Max smiled back. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” I replied. “Thanks for...well...I apologize for the behavior. Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind. Anxiety attacks my doctor calls them.”

“Well, the Mid West upbringing will do it to you every time,” Julian said in an effort to lighten me up.

If only I could remember.

They joined me in the walk cross-town to pick up the pills.

On the way, I stopped at the hotel to check on my messages. Mathews had told me some time before that doctor/patient relationships were prone to love/hate periods, so I wasn’t surprised at my sudden turnaround in calling him, or my sudden reversal again in distrusting him at this moment.

I hesitantly asked the desk, “Messages for Charles Randall?” Fortunately for my psyche, there were not one, but two messages. The first from Mathews, just as he said, and the second from Sara. Hers was a welcome surprise. “Dr. Mathews just called. Said you might like to hear from me. Hope all is going well. Have to leave town for one day on client business. Will be back tomorrow. Miss you, Sara.”

I was missing her too...a lot.

We made our way to the pharmacy and picked up the little bottle of what I hoped was bliss. I felt Mathews really understood me now. I was even a little anxious to get back for his help again. Uh, huh...I told myself. Watch the anxious part.

The directions said to take 2, 1 hour before eating, 3 times a day.

When Julian suggested he knew just the right food for a “pill chaser,” I was unaware that he was about to fulfill a greater part of the tour than I anticipated…street carnival style.