patients always know when she was the least able to deal with their emergencies?
“Who and what?” She ran her tongue over her teeth.
“Identifies herself as Savannah Samuels. Gorgeous woman, by the way. No record of her in our system. Police found her wandering through Priest Point Park. Soaking wet. No coat. Barely coherent. Not drunk or high. No signs of head trauma.”
“She’s physically okay?” Lydia rubbed her eyes against the burning pain that screamed behind them.
“Seems to be. Blood pressure’s a little high. Probably situational. No broken bones. No wounds or fever. Initial blood work’s fine. No signs of infection.”
“What’s she doing now?”
Dr. Johnson sighed into the phone. “Sitting in an exam room rocking back and forth. Says she wants you. Want me to call the boys on six down here?”
Lydia flinched at the notion of a psychiatry consult. She knew at that hour the unit would be staffed by med students and first year residents. They’d ask Savannah hundreds of meaningless questions, pump her full of benzos, and lock her in a suicide room until the morning shift brought the pros to work.
“She say anything about wanting to hurt herself?” Lydia asked.
“That’s the one clear answer I got. When I asked her if she wanted to kill herself she looked me square in the eyes and said ‘That would be too easy.’ Then she went back to whatever planet she’s visiting. I’ll tell you, give me an old fashioned car wreck any day. You guys can deal with the wing nuts.”
Lydia ignored the insult to her patient and reached into the nightstand for her calendar. She flipped to Monday’s schedule. “Let’s do a catch and release if you’re sure she’s physically okay. Could you tell her we’ve spoken and that I’ll see her this afternoon? Looks like I’m free at four o’clock.”
“Will do. I’ll fax you notes of this visit.”
“Thanks. Hey, can you do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Call her a cab, okay? She’s good for it.” Lydia hung up, tossed off the covers, headed to the kitchen, and turned on the coffee maker. She walked to the living room windows, disappointed the sun was long from rising, and clicked on the outside lights. A flurry of movement near the bird feeders caught her attention. She threw open the back door, raced across the cold lawn in bare feet, and screamed at the raven taking flight. She stared down to where the large black predator had been a moment earlier. A sparrow lay dead at her feet. Entrails spilling out from a delicate brown body. Feathers plucked and strewn by the raven’s rapier beak.
Lydia turned her face to the ebony sky and yelled into the icy rain. She heard the mocking response of the raven but couldn’t trace him in the darkened trees. She crossed to the garage, ignorant of the soaked nightgown clinging to her body. She pulled two cotton rags off a shelf, returned to the kill spot, and fashioned a shroud for the tiny sparrow. She walked to the edge of the cliff. Lydia looked up to the cloudy heavens, felt the sting of the frigid drops, and hurled the carcass into the sea below her.
The dependability of her patients was sometimes a curse. Everyone showed up that miserable Monday. Nine o’clock was the McMullens, wanting Lydia to wave her magic wand and erase the thirty years of marital torture they’d worked so hard to perfect. Ten o’clock was Sandra Kiefhaffer, raped at age nine by her brother’s scout master. The married mother of three still couldn’t shake the terror she felt on rainy nights. Eleven o’clock brought Mindy Millrose, in for her monthly weigh-in.
“You’re down two pounds, Mindy.” Lydia flipped her chart closed. “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”
“I had a Cheerio.” Mindy’s head sagged against her bony chest. “And I chewed some gum.”
“And dinner last night?” Lydia pushed the scale back under her desk. When Mindy failed to answer with anything more than a woeful look, Lydia opened her bottom drawer and pulled out two granola bars. She tossed one to her patient and peeled the foil off her own.
Lydia took a bite and chewed while she spoke. “Tell me what’s going on.” Lydia put her feet up on the coffee table. “And you’re not going anywhere until that whole thing’s in your belly.”
Mindy turned the granola bar over and over in her hands. Finally she looked toward Lydia, shrugged her shoulders, and sat on the sofa. She peeled the foil and licked the corner of the snack.
“We’ll be here all day at this rate,” Lydia said. “Don’t you have classes this afternoon?”
Mindy took a miniscule nibble. “It’s chemistry.” She chewed the gooey bar. “I missed a step in the experiment on Friday.”
“So you made a mistake?” Lydia asked. Mindy closed her eyes and nodded. “And still the sun came up this morning?”
The thin woman’s giggle lifted Lydia’s weariness for one brief moment. “Keep eating, kiddo. I’m on the clock here.”
Lydia’s fatigue pulled on her as she moved into the afternoon. At one o’clock she asked Jim Claussen to remind her of his mistress’ name. Half-way through her two o’clock she excused herself to splash water on her face. Deshaundra Clemmons was her three o’clock and demanded to know what kind of doctor Lydia was when she asked the dosage of her antidepressant for the third time. After apologizing and explaining she hadn’t slept well, Lydia thought Deshaundra displayed incredible judgment as she stomped out of her office and said she’d have to think about re-scheduling.
Lydia leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and steeled herself for her four o’clock.
Savannah stumbled into the office at 4:20. She went directly to the sofa, sat down, and stared into space. She wore no make-up on her mottled and tear-stained face. A knit cap left only a few oily bangs exposed. Her orange nylon parka was marked by what Lydia hoped was a coffee stain. Her hands lay pale and motionless in her lap. A yellow hospital identification band flashed at her thin wrist.
Lydia wasted no time on pleasantries. “Tell me how you came to be wandering in the park in the middle of the night.”
Her patient sat quietly.
“You got yourself here, Savannah. You want something from me. Tell me what it is.” Lydia struggled to stay calm.
“You don’t have a clue who I am.” Savannah stared straight ahead, her voice a whisper.
Lydia ignored the challenge.
“And you don’t know what’s wrong with me, do you?”
Lydia calculated what addressing Savannah’s drama head on might cost their relationship. “Tell me what happened since the last time we met. What sent you walking in the snow and rain?”
“I want to die.” Still no movement. “I want to go back and start all over.”
Lydia was too exhausted for histrionics. “Which is it? You want to die or you want to start over?”
Savannah snapped her head around. “You don’t care much for me, do you?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lydia wanted to call back the words as soon as she’d said them. “Forgive me, Savannah. I’m exhausted.” She offered a smile. “I was awakened quite early this morning with an emergency call regarding one of my patients.”
“I’m sorry if I’m such a bother, Dr. Corriger.” Savannah’s eyes narrowed.
Lydia exhaled long and slow. She leaned forward. “Savannah, we can’t get anywhere with these games. I have a hunch you’re tired of them, too. Now, if you want to talk about what landed you in the emergency room last night, I’m right here. But if you’re here to play another round of “guess what I’m hiding”, well, you’re going to have to find another partner.”
Lydia watched Savannah’s pose turn from defiant to helpless.
“You’re going to have to trust someone some time,” she said. “It’s either that or stay miserable. Make a choice, Savannah.”
Savannah folded her delicate hands together. Her chest pulsed with small gasps of breath. Lydia held her own face passive as Savannah gazed at her with imploring eyes. She sat silent while Savannah stood and paced the room.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Savannah stopped next to the bookcase.
