'How about breakfast? You allowed personal breakfasts?'
'Breakfast?'
April hadn't gotten too much smarter.
'Or brunch, or lunch, or an afternoon snack, or juice and graham crackers after recess,' I said. 'I'd like to see you.'
'Well, breakfast, if it's not too early. I, um, I get to sleep real late usually.'
'Name the time,' I said.
'Well, ah, could it be, like noon?'
'Sure. I'll pick you up.'
'No. No, I'll meet you.'
'Okay,' I said. 'How about the Brasserie. You know where that is?'
'Sure. Okay. I'll meet you there at noon.'
'You'll recognize me,' I said. 'You haven't forgotten what I look like?'
'No.' She giggled. 'You look like a nice thug.'
'Gee,' I said, 'you remembered.'
'Yes. See you tomorrow. Bye.'
It was five-forty. Susan's last appointment was at five-ten. She wouldn't be available until after six. I watched the news some more. The longer I put off dinner, the later it would be before I had nothing to do. If I timed it right, I could call Susan and then have dinner and then be sleepy and go to bed. I read the menu again. I'd had a big lunch. It would be selfindulgent to have a big dinner. I didn't have to eat and drink to entertain myself. I could go out. New York was a spring festival of things to do. I could go down to 42nd Street and buy a nice hand-painted tie.
The five o'clock news ended. The six o'clock news began. The guys who read the news at six had deeper voices. Authoritative. If that trend continued, the guys who read the eleven o'clock news would sound like Paul Robeson.
I called Susan. Her voice came on after the second ring.
'Hello, this is Dr. Silverman. I can't answer the phone now, but if you have a message for me please leave it at the sound of the beep.'
I said, 'Shit.' But it was before the beep, so it didn't count. After the beep I said, 'Doctor, I have a problem with priapism and need an appointment with you as soon as I can get one. I'm at the St. Regis Hotel. Call me to set up a time.' Then I hung up and watched the news some more. Not a hell of a lot had happened since I'd watched it before. I called room service and ordered a Cobb Salad and a couple of bottles of Heineken.
The phone rang. I answered it. Susan said, 'This is Dr. Silverman. Take a cold shower and call me in the morning.'
I said, 'Hello, ducky. How has your day been?'
'Some of those people are crazy,' she said.
'Your patients?'
'Yes.'
'But you're a psychologist. Don't you sort of expect that?'
'My last appointment told me he didn't believe in psychotherapy. It makes you dependent, he says.'
'So what's he going to do instead?'
'Snort cocaine, I believe.'
'Oh.'
'Have you found April?' Susan said.
'I talked with her on the phone, and we're having lunch, she says breakfast, tomorrow noon.'
'Is she all right?'
'She sounds all right, but Patricia Utley says she's headed for trouble.' I repeated my conversation with Patricia.
'And if she's not willing to leave?' Susan said.
'I could overpower her and bring her to you.'
'And hold her while we did therapy?'
'Yeah.'
'Even though your neck is considerably bigger than your brain,' Susan said, 'you probably know that you cannot do therapy with an unwilling patient.'
'I was afraid you'd spoil it.'
'So what will you do?' Susan said.
'Tell her what I fear, and get out of the way. She'll do what she wants to,' I said.
