Chapter 22

The files lay spread out on the dining room table along with two pints of Haagen-Dazs and three bottles of Coke. Lindsey had already gone through the notes of Max’s sessions four times, but she reviewed them again anyway. Somewhere amongst all these papers must be the key to Max’s recovery.

He was making slow progress. Pastor Robbins had nothing but rave reviews for Max’s ability to learn the hymns; she knew first-hand his playing was technically flawless. He even stayed for a spaghetti dinner the other night, leaving in one of the single women’s company. Midway House remained a sore spot. Mrs. Garnett reported Max’s behavior continued to be erratic. Some nights he acted friendly to the other patients, helping with dinner and joining in conversations. Other nights he went up to his room upon getting home and locked the door until disappearing early in the morning.

She swallowed another spoonful of ice cream as she considered what to do about Max. Just like with Midway House, sometimes they seemed to be making progress and other times they went back to square one. He often seemed like two different people. One day he would come in, dressed in a crisp shirt and pants, with his hair wetted and combed like a little boy for Sunday school to bombard her endlessly with questions while other days he stumbled in looking and smelling like a beggar, saying no more than two or three words at a time. She often wondered if she should have him examined for schizophrenia.

At Northwestern, Professor Lombardo had always told them, “When in doubt, start back at the beginning.” For Max, the beginning was the death of his parents. So far she had been unable to coerce anything out of him on the subject. In his sessions with Dr. Heathcoate, Max said his parents died in a fire, though the coroner ruled heart failure as the cause of death in both cases. If she was going to help him, she had to make him understand their deaths were not his fault. What chance did she have when she couldn’t convince herself that Dad’s accident wasn’t her fault?

The phone rang in the kitchen. She picked up the receiver and heard Chad’s voice on the other end. “Hey Sis, what’s up?”

“Nothing much. Doing a little work at home.”

“Oh. Should I call back?”

“No, of course not. What’s the problem?” She took the cordless phone out to the balcony to get a little fresh air while listening to Chad’s latest girl problems. She focused on the boats in the harbor as he described his latest conquest, some bimbo who read traffic reports in the morning.

“I really like Beth, and she’s really great in—” His voice trailed off with embarrassment.

“I’m sure she’s a great lay. So what’s the problem?”

“Well, I still like Tiffany.”

“Which one is she?”

“She works at a jewelry store on Michigan Avenue. I told you about her, didn’t I?”

“Probably. So you want Beth but you don’t want to lose Tiffany, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, pretty much. What should I do?”

She took a deep breath and considered switching her phone number. She didn’t have time for this shit now. “I think you need to ask yourself what’s more important. Do you feel there’s a deeper connection with Tiffany?”

“I suppose so. We talk for hours about all sorts of things. But in bed, she’s like, you know, boring.”

“Jesus, Chad.”

“I’m sorry, Sis. I don’t know anyone else to talk to about this. What should I do?”

“You’re only fucking Beth because you’re afraid to deal with Tiffany’s bedroom issues. Beth is not the answer to your problems. You need to talk with Tiffany. If you want, I can E-mail you a list of books you two might want to read.”

“So what about Beth?”

“Do what you men always do. Don’t return any of her phone calls and avoid her. If she corners you, give her some line about needing space.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“I think it’s a hundred twenty-seven by my count.” After she turned off the phone, Lindsey resisted the urge to smash the receiver before it rang again. Just once couldn’t they deal with their own problems? She had more important work to do.

“Wait a minute—” She let out a little whoop she hoped wouldn’t wake up Mrs. Donnelly downstairs. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier?

She went inside to look through her notes again. Sarah, that was the girlfriend’s name. If she could find this woman, maybe they could work together to convince Max to open up about his parents. He wouldn’t walk out on Sarah if he really cared about her. If he did, then she doubted there was any hope for him at all. After scooping out the melted remains of the ice cream, she organized her plan for their next session.

When she woke up the next morning, she found papers stuck to her cheek by chocolate ice cream. She looked through her notebook of questions and then checked her watch. Oh shit, no time for a shower. She ripped off the paper and dabbed at her face with a washcloth. As long as she didn’t have Max touch her face again, it wouldn’t matter how awful she looked.

He was already sitting in his chair by the time she arrived. “Sorry,” she said, wheezing from the run through the parking lot. “Running a little late.”

“It’s all right,” he said. From his tone, she knew it would be the kind of session when she would have to pull each syllable from him with a pair of tweezers.

“Well, let’s get down to business. How are things going with you and Sarah? Are you still seeing each other?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It’s fine.”

“That’s not a very convincing answer. Is there something wrong? Tell me, Max, that’s what I’m here for.”

“I thought you were here to help me fit in with society.”

“Well, I think Sarah fits that description. She’s a part of society, isn’t she?”

“I suppose.”

“You want to fit in with her, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Great. So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know what to do. I keep trying to make her happy, but everything I do seems to go wrong.”

“What have you done that made her unhappy?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Is it?”

“I want to satisfy her, but nothing seems to work. She always ends up even more miserable than before.”

“Satisfy her how? Are we talking about sex, Max?”

“No,” he said a little too quickly. As his cheeks turned red, she was glad he couldn’t see her smile. He was just like her brothers when it came to discussing intercourse. They could brag about it in locker rooms with other guys, but with her the subject became awkward.

“It’s all right Max. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“It’s not that kind of problem. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why not?”

“I just want to make her happy. How can I do that?”

His face and voice betrayed a desperation she hadn’t seen before in their sessions. Whoever Sarah was, she’d clearly put a spell on Max. In her notes, Lindsey scribbled the word “Love?” next to Sarah’s name. “Well, Max, like one of my professors told me, let’s start at the beginning. How much do you know about Sarah?”

He considered the question for a moment, the muscles in his face twitching through a variety of painful expressions. “Her parents and brother died. She works at the aquarium. She likes to watch the fish at night.”

“Is that all?” When Max said nothing, she added, “I think you need to go to Sarah and talk with her more about her interests. Find some common ground.”

“I don’t know, what if we don’t have any common ground?”

“You have to take that chance, Max. Any relationship involves risk. You might look like a fool or get your heart broken, but you have to try. Otherwise you’re guaranteed to get nowhere. Do you understand?”

“I suppose.”

“Good. Now, let’s talk about something else.” They spent another hour going over his progress at the church and Midway House. Lindsey doodled a heart around Sarah’s name on her pad as she listened to Max. He promised again to cooperate more with Mrs. Garnett, but she doubted he would follow through.

After he left, she picked up the telephone and asked the operator for the Gull Island Aquarium. Lindsey told the receptionist, “I’d like to speak to Sarah, please.”

“Last name?”

“I’m not really sure. Do you have more than one?”

“Just a moment, let me check.” A minute later, the receptionist said, “I’m sorry, there’s no one named Sarah here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I checked the registry. I could transfer you—”

“No, that won’t be necessary.” She hung up the phone and drew an X through the heart she’d drawn. Max was lying about Sarah. Now she needed to find out why.