* * *
Goldfarb called me at home on Saturday (I’m beginning to consider having the phone disconnected). So did Will and Laura Chang, Jerry’s staff physician. They all had the same message for me, though they expressed their concern in different ways.
Laura, the first to call, actually sounded angry. “Please tell your patients to leave mine in the hospital where they belong.”
“What patients? I don’t have any patients.”
“Fled. She’s disappeared again, only this time she took Jerry with her.”
“What? Where’d they go?”
“I have no idea, Gene. I thought maybe you could tell me.”
“Try to calm down,” was my unasked advice. “Tell me what happened. Did anyone see them leave?”
“No, but several people saw her come to visit Jerry. Next thing we knew, they were gone.”
“Are you saying she kidnapped him? Or did he leave of his own accord?”
“Who knows?” I could see her frowing in that disarming manner she has. “Don’t get me wrong,” she quickly added. “I don’t mind her talking with Jerry. It’s taking him on a joyride that concerns me. Who knows what it might do to an autistic patient. It might be too much for him. Or maybe he won’t want to come back….”
“All right, I see your point. In the first place, fled isn’t really a patient. In the second, she’s left the hospital several times before, and she always comes back. I think we should just play it cool until Monday. She’s supposed to be meeting me and a translator who can speak with chimpanzees through sign language. I predict she’ll show up right on time.”
“And Jerry?”
“Jerry, too. And he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“So until then he’s your responsibility?”
“Well—okay, yes. He’s my responsibility.”
Virginia and Will were also concerned, as was most of the other staff. Again, all I could do was try to maintain calm. Privately, I, too, was as concerned as hell. I wasn’t particularly worried about the outcome of fled’s latest escapade, but I hadn’t a clue what she had in mind for Jerry (who was my own patient for a brief period several years earlier). I didn’t even know where they had gone! Goldfarb invited me to the Monday morning staff meeting to further discuss the problem of fled and her “patientnapping.”
I consoled myself with the thought that, even though he had rarely even left Ward Three, Jerry might actually enjoy getting out of the hospital for a while. After all, who knows what goes on in the mind of a severely autistic patient? Perhaps all those inward thoughts are of marvelous adventures, incredible sights, and he might finally get a chance to actually experience some of those for the first time.
But soon enough (I sincerely hoped), we could all ask him this ourselves.
* * *
Dr. Tewksbury, the chimpanzee whisperer, called me on Sunday afternoon while I was watching a Mets game. She and “Filbert” had arrived in Jersey and were safely ensconced in the home of the friend she had mentioned earlier. Both were well, she informed me, and “rarin’ to go.” I summarized what she should expect from her visit with fled, and instructed her on the best way to get to the Institute, which would involve a drive across the GW Bridge and a short hop over to Amsterdam Avenue. If she found this to be an imposing journey, I offered to meet her somewhere and drive in with her.
“No problem,” she assured me. “I’ve been here before.”
“To MPI??”
“No. To Jersey and the Big Apple. In fact, I was born here.”
“Where?”
“Hoboken.”
“Do you know a Joyce Trexler, who—”
“The world isn’t that small, Dr. Brewer.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t,” I replied wistfully. I assured Dr. Tewksbury that the security people had been informed and would be waiting for her at the gate, see that her van was parked, and she and Filbert would be escorted into the hospital. “You won’t need an ID,” I told her. “Filbert will probably be the only chimpanzee at the gate all day.”
“I can’t wait!” she gushed.
“Great,” I replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I almost included Dartmouth and Wang in my farewell.
By the time I got back to the game the Mets were six runs behind.
* * *
They phoned later that evening from God knows where. Karen and I were in the kitchen putting away the dishes and discussing a possible Christmas trip to visit Jenny and Anne in California. Karen took the call, rolled her eyes, and handed me the mobile phone. “Hi guys,” I said cheerfully. There was a pause, perhaps because they didn’t know what to make of the unaccustomed familiarity. Wang patiently explained who he was, and apologized for disturbing me at home on a Sunday. But they had learned somehow of fled’s website, and weren’t too happy about it. In fact, they tried to shut it down, but every time they did, it popped back up again. I asked him how they discovered it. “That’s classified,” he snarled. “The point is, we can’t let her suggest that only vegans are welcome on a trip to K-PAX, can we, Dr. Brewer?”
“What’s wrong with vegans?” I asked weakly (as a result of prot’s visit, I was a vegetarian myself, at least most of the time).
“Everything. Do you realize what this would do to the nation’s economy?”
I reminded him that I was a doctor, not an economist.
“Sir, we’d like you to inform your friend that we cannot, and will not, tolerate an alien coming down here and telling us what to eat. Do you understand my meaning?”
“I’ll pass along your message.”
“Thank you. Now about our neurobiologist—do you recall his visit to your hospital?”
It had only been two days before. “Yes, I do. Dr. Sauer.”
I could hear muffled laughter. “Is that what he called himself? Har, har, har. That’s rich…. Anyway, he tells us that the results of his study are inconclusive. He’ll need several more visits to reach any definite conclusions about her mindreading capabilities.”
“I see.”
“And Dr. Brewer?”
“Yes?”
“Based on his preliminary observations, he’d like to line up several colleagues to join him in performing further tests. Do you think that can be arranged?”
“I’ll ask her.”
“Thank you, sir. And according to Dr. ‘Sauer,’ the sooner the better.”
The dial tone came before I could say “You’re welcome” or “Good-bye.” I thought I heard a noise from above. “I think they were on the roof,” I told my wife.
“Maybe it was Santa Claus,” she said.
If the “boys” knew anything about the upcoming visit from Ellen Tewksbury and Filbert, they didn’t mention it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was an unusually long construction delay on I-78 and, unfortunately, I missed the Monday morning staff meeting. By the time I got to the hospital Dr. Tewksbury and Filbert were already inside somewhere, according to Officer Wilson at the gate. “What’s going on, doc?” he called out as I waved past him. “There are apes all over the place!”
“One of our patients thinks she’s a chimpanzee,” I shouted jokingly.
“Gawd, I think she might be right!” he yelled back.
The lawn was in an uproar. I thought it was probably because Filbert was running around loose, stirring up trouble. But it wasn’t that—he and Tewksbury were nowhere to be seen. It was Jerry, having just returned with fled, who was causing all the commotion. But this wasn’t the Jerry that I, or any of the inmates, knew. He was standing against the front wall contemplating the grounds as if he had never seen any of it before. A group of patients were milling nearby, watching, whispering among themselves, waiting to see what he was going to do. He turned to look at them, as if noticing them for the first time. Slowly his arms came up and he ambled toward the group. Some of them backed away, apparently unsure of his intent. Howard, however, lifted his arms as well, and the two of them embraced. At this point the patients came up to him, one by one, to give him a hug and get one in return. He didn’t avoid their gazes, and he spoke a few words to each of them. When everyone had made contact, the entire group headed toward the back forty to greet the other residents of MPI. The excitement was contagious. Once they were sure who he was, they were all genuinely happy for Jerry, who had been one of their own. But I suspected that underneath the obvious warmth and affection they were all thinking the same thing: if fled can make such a radical change in the character and demeanor of someone who may be worse off than I am, why couldn’t she do the same for me?