Susan arrived at Bishop’s apartment just around the time he was uncovering the universe in the park. The room held an eerie sense of quiet. The windows were shut, locking out the day’s cool air, but the sun, as strong as it was, baked the glass, letting in a heat that was unsettling.
She opened the window to let in the air. Her plan was to wait for Bishop. He said he was going for a walk, and she thought nothing more at the time. She fumbled through his apartment; nothing was out of place. A book rested on the arm of his favorite chair, a worn leather rocker that had conformed over the years to Bishop’s frame. The book was titled The Greatest Love and was written by an author she hadn’t heard of. The jacket told the story of a disheartened protagonist who gave his soul to protect his passion for another. It wasn’t like Bishop to read love stories, but perhaps this novel had a profound effect on him.
There were two messages on his answering machine. The first was a sales call asking for donations to the FDNY. The second was a call from Bishop’s case manager, asking where he was. It was strange that Paul would be calling on a Saturday. The message ended with a question concerning Bishop’s medications.
Why is Paul asking about Bishop’s whereabouts?
She found the phone on the floor, its tiny mechanics spilled from its insides.
What happened?
Piecing the scene together did not take long. Paul called for an unexpected visit, which angered Bishop. But he wasn’t the type of person to smash his belongings. Why throw the phone against the wall? And what about the medications?
The answers were in the bathroom. Bishop’s med bottle was empty and in the trash can. According to the date, he should still have a week’s supply. Had he taken them all? There was no way to tell, but, after a brief investigation, Susan found two pills that had not been flushed into the sewers.
He stopped his medications! But why? And how long had it been since he stopped taking them?
There was a pounding on the front door. Paul!
She stood quietly in the bathroom, hoping he’d go away. But again he pounded.
“Bishop,” Paul said, “I know you’re in there. Just let me in.”
Bishop, where are you? she thought. She had to find him; there was no telling where he could be or what he was going through without his medications. But Paul would come back, she was sure. He wouldn’t stop coming until he talked to Bishop.
“Bishop!” Paul slammed on the door.
Best thing to do was to answer the door. Tell him
Bishop is at the store or—
Again, the pounding of wood.
“I’m coming,” she said.
Paul stood in the doorway; his clothes were clinging tightly across a fattened belly. His beady eyes traced through a pair of worn and rickety glasses that hung off the tip of his nose. His hair was out of place, as if he’d been battling with the wind on his way to the apartment.
“Susan,” he said, “is Bishop home?”
“Didn’t you just call about ten minutes ago?”
He shrugged and stretched his neck; a tired pop and crack of cartilage followed. “I talked with Bishop earlier and told him I’d be stopping by, but when I arrived he wasn’t here. I called hoping to catch him.”
“Well he’s still not here,” Susan said, standing in the doorway so he would know he wasn’t welcome. They’d been at odds with Bishop’s treatment over the last few years, and he understood how Susan felt about him.
He laughed. “Susan,” he said, “You must know where he is. Today’s his birthday, and I know you always celebrate together.”
“Well, Mr. Paul, if you must know, I sent him to the store.”
He paused. “Okay, I’ll see to it he’s incarcerated for noncompliance.”
“Impossible,” she said. “Coming to see him on a Saturday is not proper practice now is it?”
“He knew I was coming.”
“Can you prove it? I’m not even sure that I’m seeing you right now. As a matter of fact, I don’t have any recollection of you even being here today.”
“Is it possible for me to come in?” he asked. Then he smiled briefly before adding, “I want to make sure he’s taking his medications.”
He stepped forward, but she refused to move. “As I said, Paul, he’s not here.”
He paused again. There was no telling what thoughts were running through that conniving mind. “Can I see his med bottles? We both know it’s imperative for Bishop to maintain his med compliance. Without them he’s a threat to the community.”
“Bishop is harmless, we—”
“You don’t know him like I do, Susan. Without those medications, he’s a tremendous threat. I’ll have no other option but to commit him.”
This time Susan paused. “He took his medications with him.”
“Unlikely,” Paul responded. “Now I know you’re lying.” “Paul,” she said, “it’s time for you to leave,” and she slammed the door, shutting the man out. He was a nuisance, and Susan saw no reason to continue the conversation.
Bishop, where are you?
She heard Paul scuttle away from the door and down the stairs. Susan understood the need to find Bishop before Paul was alerted to his medications. The day could end in disaster if Paul was able to locate him. But there was only one place she could think of where Bishop could possibly be. He wasn’t one to wander far. That old familiar place—Central Park. Bishop had to be there.
She shut the window just as the rain started to fall.