“I am telling you Sab.” My friend Gavin advised from across the table. “Listen to yourself.” He sat forward replacing his scotch on the table by his empty plate. “You were having problems with Natasha, then you had a traumatic experience which you are having trouble processing. It’s easier to think of mystical reasons for what is going on rather than call it for what it is.”
“You don’t understand Gavin, the things she’s done….I know it sounds crazy…” As I searched for words he interjected.
“That she is a guardian of some religious order, set to keep a child from danger?” His cynical tone grated against me on a fundamental level. “That other people are being possessed by bad spirits bent on destroying her? Yes it sounds a little crazy.” He sighed and gave me the look I imagined he practiced daily with his clients. Confronting, yet understanding, comforting and confident, yet unyielding and commanding. I had to have a friend who was a Psychologist. Maybe calling him was me testing myself. “Fear can manifest itself in strange ways Sabian, make people stronger than believable…. There are a lot of things happening for you. She lost her memory – or so she claims, you haven’t slept – I can tell. I don’t want you slipping into some shared fantasy. Worse, have you considered your distorted thinking might be influencing a scared and already vulnerable woman. By the way you explain her situation, she doesn’t have anyone else to rely on. Quite frankly, right now, I can see why Nat decided to jump ship and give you space.” He sighed to break up his unrelenting rant. “Sab, take my advice, I have a very good friend, a psychiatrist at Turner hospital.” He pulled out a pen and scribbled a name and number on a napkin. “Call him, take a few days to sort your head out before you see this girl again…..” A sudden thought startled him. “You aren’t sleeping with her are you?”
I nearly dropped my drink. “No…its not like that at all. I just need to find out who she is, what happened, what happens next.” I scrubbed my face and rolled my scratchy eyes around in their sockets before trying to focus on him against the backdrop of the soft lighting in the restaurant. I was tired. He was right about that.
“That’s your brain trying to make sense of everything you’ve been through. Sabian. I know you, and I know what I’m talking about. Please listen to me.” I nodded and took the napkin. “The hospital is more like a hotel. It’s a good move, and I’ll come see you Friday. Once you get some sleep, we can talk more about this…” He eased back further in his chair and looked as though he was peering through me. I struggled to find something to say, which let him start up again. “Do you want me to call Natasha, tell her you’re going to go to Turner’s for a few days.”
“Sure.” I assured. That seemed to please him.
“Great. This is the best thing you can do for yourself. Trust me.” He motioned behind me to a man who had just stumbled in the door with an umbrella. I stood to dismiss myself, and Gavin did the same.
“Thanks Tony.” I said as I embraced him. I patted him on the back and left him to catch up with his business associate. Nothing like after dinner negotiation. That man was a constant workaholic.
As soon as I got outside, I threw the napkin with the psychiatrist’s number in the bin. That was when she called.