Angel of Death. Christian Russell

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      “But you did manage to get over that, didn’t you?” the doctor said.

      “That’s true, but at what cost? Our relationship, which hadn’t been great before either grew worse. It was a vicious circle. I couldn’t stand him drunk, he couldn’t stand me in the rare moments when he was sober.”

      “You know what? I’ve always wanted to ask you: How did you make him give up drinking?”

      “I didn’t, Tommy did. He was the key to our success. In fact, even during that awful period the relationship between father and son wasn’t affected very much. I don’t know how but he managed to hide his vice from the child. He almost acted normally. He bought him toys like he used to, told him all kinds of tales before going to sleep.... Only once, when Mark didn’t know Tommy was downstairs, the boy saw him crawling up the stairs trying to reach the bedroom. That’s the whole secret of Mark’s recovery.”

      The doctor fidgeted on his chair. “I don’t get it! Help me understand, Cathy!”

      “One evening, the child asked some neighborhood friends to come over and play. At some point they decided to do an impression on their dads. Hank, whose father is a driver, took a chair and started pushing it around the house taking all sorts of dangerous turns. When his turn came, Tommy started climbing up the stairs like a drunkard, not forgetting to stumble a couple of times. Everything with the innocence of a six-year-old. Mark had just come in a few minutes earlier, dead drunk as usual. He stood in the doorway, without anybody noticing him except me, and watched his son’s performance. He went out again and got lost into the night. The next day, when he came home to change his clothes for work, he was ‘fresh.’ He’s never touched alcohol since.”

      “So that’s how Mark came back to the world of the sober,” McGerr remarked obviously impressed.

      “Yes, doctor. I’ve never had any influence on him. But there’s something special between Mark and the child. They feel each other; they search for each other, they long for each other when they’re not together. Before going to sleep Mark tells him tales about Caesar, Troy, Achilles, or Spartacus. And Tommy’s all ears, whereas he always sleeps through my fairy tales. I tried to draw his attention by making all sorts of origami: to no result. The mere presence of my husband in the same room shuts me out of the child’s world. I simply feel I’m pushed aside.”

      “That shouldn’t be a problem for you. The boy’s at an age when fathers are heroes. They’re almighty, omniscient and invincible. In four or five years’ time things might turn the other way round.”

      “I might believe it, doctor,” the woman said distrustfully. “The problem is I don’t know if our marriage will last that long. Mark’s quit drinking, that’s true. He’s also quit fooling around. Actually, I think he’s been faithful to me this past year. That’s a matter of speech for we haven’t made love for more than three months. We only talk about daily matters. He looks bored and weary of life. If I tell him what’s on my mind he just gives me this sad look and doesn’t say anything. Do you understand, doctor? I don’t even have someone to fight with. That’s it. Our marriage is on the rocks and it’s been like that for several years. As a matter of fact, I think our love story lasted for one year only, the first of our marriage. Then everything started going down. It drives me crazy not to know what caused it. Fate probably can’t be avoided.”

      McGerr stood up and started walking thoughtfully around the room. After a few moments he sat down on a chair close to the woman.

      “Look, Cathy, he’s drawing on forty. That’s a difficult age for a man. For a woman as well,” he added, looking straight into her eyes. “What I want to know is if you still love him.”

      “Yes, doctor, I love him,” Cathy answered convincingly.

      “Then you’ll have to fight for your marriage. That’s right, fight. Only the helpless resign themselves. As for fate, it’s a kind of gap you fall into only if you look too much at it.”

      “How am I supposed to fight and whom?” she asked crying.

      “First of all, yourself. Try to change yourself somehow. I see you’re depressed. Probably Mark sees you that way too. Try to look a little more cheerful. Do that in the evening, with your family. And be a little more lenient. Let him win the small battles. You’d better save your energy for winning the most important arguments. Do it the Michelangelo way: chop off the unwanted piece of marble and you’ll get the man of your dreams.”

      “But he hardly notices me, doctor. How am I supposed to do all the things you mentioned?”

      “You must change your look a little bit. Take better care of yourself. Smarten up! Flirt a little when given the opportunity. Make him jealous. Sometimes a marriage is happier if the man loves his wife as if she were someone else’s. That’s about all I can tell you, Cathy,” McGerr concluded checking his watch discreetly. “I’ll even lend you a book on evolutionary psychology. It’s The Moral Animal by Robert Wright. It’ll help you understand some of your husband’s flaws better.”

      Cathy stood up. “Thank you, doctor,” she said taking the book. “I’ll make good use of your advice.”

      She was on her way out when McGerr spoke again. “And try to judge him by the good intentions he goes out with in the morning, not just by the sins he returns with in the evening. If we didn’t sin what would there be left for God to forgive?” the doctor added smiling.

      * * * * * * *

      After the woman left, the doctor took a look at the next file and his face suddenly darkened. He wished the next patient hadn’t come. For it was Pollux’s appointment. That’s exactly how he had introduced himself and how he had entered his name. “Like one of the Dioscuri?” the doctor had asked.

      The other had nodded. “Where’s Castor, then?”

      “He’s dead. I’m the surviving brother,” Pollux had explained.

      A strange guy, a most strange guy who had set him up. He had offered to pay him three times the usual fee, provided he chose the topics during the sessions and only answered the questions that suited him. “As a sort of experiment,” Pollux had motivated it. Though a little intrigued, McGerr had accepted. He hadn’t done it for the money. Why not? That’s also an experience, he had thought slightly amused. During the psychometric test, compulsory for all his patients, the guy had behaved like a spoiled child who had just been punished. During the IQ test, obviously bored, he had scribbled something and then, for half an hour, stared at his delicate, thin-fingered, almost woman-like hands.

      When he took a look at the papers, the doctor wasn’t that amused any more. The WAIS tests were altogether brilliant. Even if the results of the projective ones were odd, bizarre even, all in all that was a man with a huge IQ. McGerr panicked. It was the panic of having accepted a new, unfavorable situation. But the cards had been dealt. This was going to be their third session. The doctor had come out a little ruffled from the first two.

      “Mr. Pollux, sir,” the receptionist announced gloomily, scattering his thoughts away. She didn’t like the patient very much either.

      The man came in with the air of a god visiting mortals.

      “Nice to see you again, Pollux,” McGerr lied through his teeth.

      The patient merely nodded. The doctor decided to take the initiative.

      “I’ve СКАЧАТЬ