Firefly Cove Page 14

  “I agree.”

  “What is it you want?”

  “To withdraw the trust from their firm,” Lucius replied.

  “No court on earth would grant you the right to take over these finances yourself.” Feinnes was equally firm. “Let’s not forget the circumstances under which you and I met. If I were to present your request to the court, the attorneys of record would put the hospital doctors on the stand and draw out every last sordid detail. The court would have no choice but to deny your request. And you could run the risk of being declared mentally incompetent.”

  Lucius felt his face go fiery red with shame. “Do I strike you as incompetent?”

  “No, you do not. Which is the only reason we are having this conversation.”

  “Someday I hope to tell you the complete story of what I have been through since . . . our last meeting,” Lucius said. “For the moment let’s simply say that I have had a complete and total change of direction.”

  Sol Feinnes was intelligent, aware, and clearly comfortable withholding judgment. “Noted.”

  “One of the doctors does, in fact, want to lock me up. He hasn’t said as much, but I’m certain . . . Can you write a letter stating that I’m no longer a patient under their care?”

  “You wish to terminate all therapy?” The gaze became harder, more assessing. But all the attorney said was “Are you certain that is a good idea?”

  Lucius felt his face grow hotter still. “I intend to continue seeing Ms. Meisel. But I want to be the one in control of my outcome.”

  Sol Feinnes nodded slowly. “I can write Ms. Meisel a letter to that effect, certainly.”

  “Thank you. Now back to the trust. My end goal stays the same. I want those attorneys removed from control. So tell me how far we can go in the short term.”

  Feinnes pondered this, then decided, “We should file a motion for an external audit of your trust. Until this is complete, we also request that all funds be frozen. Given this history of correspondence, I would assume the court would grant our request without delay.”

  Lucius wished there were some way to erase the shadow he saw there in the lawyer’s gaze. With time, perhaps, but not today. He said, “Do it.”

  CHAPTER 34

  On Tuesday afternoon Lucius returned to the guesthouse and watched as the new carpet was fitted. Then the students helped carry up his new IKEA furniture. All the while, he wrestled with the thought of residing here. Lucius knew the point was coming. But the prospect still filled him with dread.

  He then worked with the students on the downstairs apartment. It was far easier than upstairs, especially once the rear bedroom ceiling was repainted. When he began to tire, he retreated to the rusting picnic table under the backyard eucalyptus trees and read the finance text. The terminology was completely new, as were many of the regulations. He chafed at the prospect of doing business under so many new state and federal laws. The tax code had certainly not improved. Even so, the task helped to ground him more firmly in the here and now. He had lived and breathed these elements through his entire short career. This was work he could firmly get his teeth into.

  The second attack came while he was reading that night. Lucius could almost feel the black dog circling his bed. As though it resented the pleasure he found in study. This time he did not hesitate. He took the two capsules and then went out on the guesthouse front veranda and waited. The fountain sang its soft melody, the stars glimmered overhead, and the dismal cloud gradually slipped away. The pills did not entirely erase the gloom. But eventually they did make it possible for him to return inside, cut off the light, and sleep.

  * * *

  The drug was still with him Wednesday morning. Lucius did not rise until after nine. He took a briefer walk than the previous two days. Then he ate what had become his customary breakfast of yogurt and fruit and tea. He gazed longingly at the serving trays of bacon and eggs and sausage and French toast. If the attacks were going to continue, what was the point of his diet? But he turned away in the end.

  He returned to his room, packed his belongings, and checked out. A taxi deposited him at the house a little after ten. The upstairs apartment smelled of fresh paint and carpet dust. The living room contained the oversized television and stereo and a new sofa set from IKEA. The bedroom was bare, save for a new pallet and shopping bags of sheets and towels. In the kitchen the new fridge only accented the other implements’ battered states. Lucius returned downstairs, supposedly to check the students’ progress, but mostly to escape. As he accepted the tenants’ gratitude over the transformation of their living spaces, Lucius wondered if he would ever feel able to claim the upstairs apartment as his own. If he could free himself from the dark hound. If he could not be reminded at every turn of the impossibility of his existence.

  He wondered if perhaps taking the drug had caused the dog to hang about longer this time. He took his textbook out back and seated himself at the picnic table, struggling to find his equilibrium in this unsettling day. This new life and realm certainly carried their share of burdens.

  Then as now, Lucius was coping. It was what he did. Cope.

  When the tow truck pulled into his drive, Lucius rose from the table as the driver called. “Mr. Benoit?”

  “That’s me.”

  A burly man eased himself down from the cab. “Mike Alderson. Where’s the lady?”

  “In the backyard.”

  Alderson had the easy manner of many senior mechanics, assured in his hard-earned knowledge, dedicated to work he clearly loved. “I sure hope you weren’t fooling, what you said on the phone.”

  “Give me a hand with this tarp, then you tell me.” Together they hauled off the filthy cover. Then Lucius took a step back.

  Alderson whistled. “Oh, my sweet word.”

  If anything, the car looked even finer than before. For the first time that day the gray blanket lifted entirely from Lucius’s mind and heart. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  “That, she is.” Alderson patted the hood, as he might in calming a nervous filly. “Mr. Benoit, I took the liberty of phoning one of my favorite collectors.”

  “This car is not for sale,” Lucius replied.

  “Now hold on, just hear me out. The man is willing to offer you top dollar—”

  “I’ve wanted to own one of these for as long as I can remember.”

  Alderson nodded reluctant acceptance. “Mind if I have a look inside?”

  * * *

  The Quarterfield tow truck was almost as long as a semi. The bed had more than enough room for a second vehicle. Which was how Lucius had the idea of asking Mike Alderson if he’d take the Kia as part payment for the repairs. Alderson seemed embarrassed to even be around the battered car, which endeared him to Lucius even more than before. He accepted Lucius’s claim that it was another inherited vehicle, and cranked the Kia up behind the Jag. Then he covered the Kia with the filthy tarp and tied it down tight.

  Mike Alderson was not much of a talker, which suited Lucius just fine. This was his first journey out of San Luis Obispo, and the trip north was familiar enough to fill him with conflicting emotions. The road was certainly better than he recalled. The Pacific Coast Highway was a divided four-lane highway for much of the trip. Then it went to a three-lane for a while, the asphalt ribbed and crumbling down both edges. The last time Lucius had driven this stretch, the PCH had been a gleaming new promise leading California’s coastline into a bright tomorrow. Now it was in desperate need of repair, the traffic far too heavy for its present condition.

  When Mike took the turn signposted for Miramar Bay, Lucius thought for a moment he was going to be sick to his stomach. His heart hammered, his skin felt clammy. The sun glared harsher than he remembered, the hills were brown as tinder. Here and there were scarred shadows of what he assumed were recent fires. He started to ask Mike, but then decided it did not matter. Not nearly so much as the sudden impression that captured him.

  Lucius felt as though the pressure on his fragile stat
e heightened with each passing mile. The black dog seemed to race alongside the tow truck, almost but not quite able to leap on board and attack him once more. He knew it was absurd. He knew the drugs disagreed with him at some visceral level. He knew, he knew . . .

  He leaned his head against the seat rest and sighed.

  Mike glanced over. “You all right there, bub?”

  “I haven’t been on this road in . . . a while.”

  Mike’s eyes were covered by dark Wayfarers. But the expression he showed was gentle and concerned. “Last trip didn’t go so well?”

  Lucius did his best to push away all the tumult and all the questions for which he had no answers. “The love of my life lived up here.”

  “She dumped you.” It was not a question.

  “Something like that.”

  “You been back since?”

  “No.”

  “Man. That’s tough.” Mike jerked a thumb at the load behind them. “’Course some would say bringing that lady back to life is worth a few bad memories.”

  Lucius felt his face stretch into the parody of a smile. “Maybe so.”

  “How’d you hear about us, anyway? Not that I’m complaining. It’s just, Quarterfield Classics mostly deals with the serious collectors. There’s plenty of garages nearer to San Luis that could handle this job.”

  Lucius had no idea what to say, except, “I wanted the best.”

  * * *

  When they came around the bend, and the dealership appeared, Lucius groaned.

  “What is it?”

  “Stop here for a minute, will you?”

  “Sure thing.” Mike pulled over. “You don’t look so good.”

  Lucius had no choice but to say, “I met her here.”

  “Who, the heartbreaker? Here at my dealership?”

  “In the front room.” He swallowed hard. “It looks . . .”

  It looked exactly the same. A trifle smaller, perhaps. But otherwise it was precisely as Lucius remembered. The showroom’s glass wall bulged to his right. Directly in front were three cars. A red-and-white vintage Corvette gleamed between a Rolls-Royce Corniche convertible and a Packard. To his left a young saleswoman walked an elderly couple toward a slate-gray Bentley.

  His internal state was certainly not helped by them halting on the roadside.

  Mike had pulled over in the exact spot where Lucius had parked.

  On that last dreadful day.

  Lucius opened his door. Took a hard breath. “I think I’ll walk from here.”

  CHAPTER 35

  On Wednesday morning Asha visited with two patients housed in the hospital’s mental ward. Afterward she took over a free table in the main cafeteria and began working through the final proof of her master’s thesis. The paper was officially not due until December, but the previous evening Dino had sent over his final revision notes, and then urged her to complete the work and submit.

  An hour later, he had called to say, “Give me the green light and I’ll inform the university that you are also ready to sit your exams this summer.”

  Asha idly ran a finger along a groove in the table’s surface.

  Dino said, “I believe this is the point at which you thank me for what is an incredible step forward. This frees you up to focus on your Journal article.”

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Asha, there is nothing to think about.”

  Actually, there was. “I’ve never had a relationship like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “One where we are both open to change. And willing to accept the need to grow beyond our comfort zones.”

  It was Dino’s turn to go silent.

  “My relationships to this point have all followed a sort of circular pattern. I observe. I analyze. I push. They resist. We argue,” Asha went on. “Sooner or later, something happens and it becomes necessary to break things off. Then the blame begins. I say they’re deflecting, they’re being absurdly childish. . .”

  Dino remained silent.

  “In Jeffrey’s case the breaking point was named Tiffany. Several of them, probably. And, of course, I blamed him. But I’m at least partly at fault. I see that now for the first time. I chose Jeffrey. Nobody forced me into that relationship. And part of what appealed to me about him was the fact that he had this evident flaw. He needed to grow beyond where he was, if he were to ever become a fully-functioning individual. And I assumed that was what he wanted. So I pushed him. Hard. Until he finally. . .”

  Dino’s voice was a soft burr. No longer the distant analyst. There. With her. Caring. Deeply. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on yourself?”

  “No.” Asha cut off her computer. “What I think is, talking to you is like looking into a mirror I’ve run from all my adult life.”

  “Asha . . .”

  “What?”

  “Are we in a relationship?”

  “I certainly hope so.” Her laugh was shaky. “I’d hate to think I’m making these confessions to a boss.”

  “Then it’s time for a confession of my own.” Dino took a long breath, then, “When I got home from our date, I walked out on my deck and thought I was finally waking up from a long hibernation.”

  “I understand,” Asha said softly. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “What did you like to do? I mean, something you’ve given up from the time before you . . .”

  “I know exactly what you mean.” He thought a long moment. Asha found that very moving, how he considered her question important enough to give it time. “I loved to hike. She never much cared for it, so, well . . . I haven’t been in years.”

  “Thursday is your day off, right? I can take the afternoon. Let’s go.”

  “Really, you’d do that?”

  “I’ve never been what you’d call an outdoors sort of gal. But I’d love to try. Just go easy on me, okay?”

  “Do you even have a set of hiking boots?”

  “Let’s see. They’re lace-up footwear with no heels, right?”

  “Now you’re playing with me.”

  “I’m seeing my last patient at noon. I’ll meet you at one thirty.”

  He was smiling now, she could hear it in his voice. “Come prepared to get all hot and sweaty.”

  * * *

  Asha was drawn from her reverie by a voice saying, “Ah, Ms. Meisel, just who I was hoping to run into. May I join you?”

  Asha recognized the emergency room doctor who had met them after Luke’s attempted suicide. “Of course, Dr. . . .”

  “Emeka.”

  She shut her laptop and slipped it to one side. “By all means. Do sit down.”

  “I hope I’m not interrupting something important.”

  “I’m reviewing my master’s thesis. But my mind’s not on it. And to tell you the truth, I wanted to speak with you.”

  “About Benoit.”

  “Right. Dino, that is, Dr. Barbieri, has suggested I write this up as a journal article.”

  “I personally think that’s an excellent idea.”

  The slender ER doctor’s meal consisted of two yogurts, an herbal tea, an apple, and a packet of crackers. Asha asked, “That’s all you’re eating?”

  “I’ve been on duty all night. Anything else sits like a concrete lump in my gut.” His face was fine-boned and almost gaunt. The smile rearranged his features from neck to forehead. “Hardly the correct medical terminology, but true just the same.”

  “The morning we met, you struck me as utterly unflappable. Calm, poised, the perfect ER doctor.”

  “On the surface, at least, I suppose that’s true enough.” He patted his middle. “But down here it is another story.”

  “Maybe so, but if I ever need urgent care, I hope you’re the attending doctor.”

  “Charming, as well as lovely.” He spooned up the yogurt. “I saw your patient yesterday.”

  “Luke Benoit was here?”

  “Briefly. He said he needed to thank one
of the orderlies.”

  “The phone call to that attorney,” Asha guessed.

  “That is my assumption as well. I would imagine money exchanged hands.” He scooped out the last spoonful, then said, “The alterations I observed in Benoit were, well . . .”

  “Extreme,” Asha suggested.

  “Virtually overnight he has become what appears to be an individual in complete control of himself. Stable, calm, alert.” He opened the second yogurt. “Quite astonishing, really.”

  Asha heard the unspoken question and decided there was no reason not to tell the ER doctor what had happened. She recounted the claims Luke made over dinner, and his previous day’s statements regarding Dino’s grandfather. She finished with, “That transformation will be the basis of my article.”

  “You are thinking it represents a split personality?”

  She leaned back. “These days the correct term is ‘dissociative identity disorder.’ DID for short.”

  “I believe I recall reading that somewhere. Thankfully, it is not something we ER doctors must concern ourselves with.”

  “To answer your question, yes, that is probably the correct assessment,” Asha replied. “But it’s important not to cloud the early stages of analysis with assumptions. The result can be that I look for evidence to support my belief, rather than seeing what truly affects the patient.”

  “A lesson I must continually stress to my young residents,” Emeka confirmed. He began peeling his apple. “I have no real idea what this DID actually represents.”

  “There is very little agreement on anything related to DID,” Asha replied. “Which makes it so interesting.”

  Health professionals even argued over the definition of DID, or what could be classed as its root cause. A growing number of diverse events were now grouped under the general heading of DID. But the core issue, the one component all clinicians agreed upon, was the emergence of a different-personality state. This was usually combined with partial amnesia and patients’ refusals to accept any evidence contradicting the new personalities. In other words, patients disassociated from all aspects of reality that did not conform to who they now saw themselves as.