"I'm just not sure he wouldn't be more comfortable in his own place, in familiar surroundings," I said.
Carling was silent for some time. Finally, he said quietly: "I think it's you who's not comfortable here, Mongo. And it's Garth who's making you uncomfortable. Am I right?"
"There's some truth in what you say."
"But you're not the patient, Mongo. Garth has given no indication that he wants to leave. I'm sorry if I sound rude, but I have to ask if you're certain that you have Garth's best interests in mind when you talk about taking him out of here."
"He's up and about, and it occurs to me that he might begin to act more normal if he were placed back in normal surroundings."
Garth had sat the old couple down on swings outside one of the children's cottages and was gently pushing them. All three mental patients looked perfectly content, and no staff from the children's hospital had come out to complain of their presence. Carling sat down on the grass, and I sat beside him. I declined his offer of a cigarette, and he lit one for himself.
"Garth has a great gift," the male nurse said, picking a speck of tobacco off his lower lip as he exhaled.
"For what?" I asked in a tone that was more curt than I'd meant it to be. "As a companion for old people, or as a budding music critic specializing in Wagner?"
Carling, resting on his elbow, turned his head and looked at me. "You're upset because I suggested that you might be more worried, even if unconsciously, about your own feelings than you are about your brother's welfare."
"No, Tommy, I'm not upset," I said evenly. "It shows me that you're thinking about Garth, and I like that. You continue to worry about Garth, and I'll worry about my feelings."
Carling dragged deeply on his cigarette, pointed down the hillside at the trio on the swings. "Look at him down there. Those two old people listening so intently to whatever it is your brother is saying to them are considered hopelessly senile, with virtually no attention span for anything. I was told when I signed them out from the geriatric section that they didn't respond to anybody. Obviously, the staff who told me that were wrong."
"Are they from the clinic?"
"No; they're just regular patients at the hospital. But you see how they respond to Garth; a lot of very sick people respond remarkably well to Garth. He seems able to relate to them in a way no one else can."
"He just doesn't relate to normal people."
"That seems to be true, unfortunately, at this point. That doesn't diminish his gift, or the power of that gift. I've spent a lot of years trying to do what little I can to alleviate the suffering of others, and I've never seen anything like it."
"How did those two end up with my brother?"
"Garth asked if he might be allowed to volunteer to work with other patients in the hospital. Geriatrics is always looking for volunteer companions two or three hours a day. I got Dr. Slycke's permission to take him out, and here we are. I think it's remarkable the way Garth is able to calm and communicate with them. This gift he has even works with the men in the secure unit."
"What was Garth doing in the secure unit?" I asked, feeling a sudden sense of alarm. I was not sure Garth would-or could-defend himself anymore.
"He walked in; voluntarily. I explained to you that the other patients can go in there and use the facilities, as long as things are quiet there."
"What did he do in there?"
"Talk-for hours. And the others just sat and listened."
"What was he talking about?"
"Who knows? I didn't stay in there with him, but the other nurses tell me he always spoke in a low voice, and tended to clam up whenever one of them got too close. He wasn't causing a disturbance, or stressing the men-quite the opposite-so nobody objected. Hell, even Mama Baker sat and listened to him, and for Mama Baker to sit still for fifteen minutes without cursing somebody out is quite an accomplishment." Carling paused, smiled thinly. "Still, I wouldn't advise you to visit there again. Mama still hears voices commanding him to kill dwarfs. Incidentally, I'm really sorry about what happened that day."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Yes, it was; it's my responsibility to be aware of any situation that can unduly stress a patient. At the time I wasn't aware of Mama's obsession with killing dwarfs, and I should have been. Anyway, it seems that Garth has developed a marked talent for communicating with the sick and the hopeless. He's able to break through all sorts of psychic walls, and he gives them comfort."
"Dr. Slycke told me about his empathy."
"I don't think 'empathy' is a strong enough word to describe it; I'm not sure there is a word. The other patients seem to believe that Garth knows exactly how they feel, and that gives them comfort. We're both watching him right now bring a senile old man and woman out of their shells, but I've also watched him calm violent patients. He not only cries when he listens to that music; I've seen him cry when other patients talk to him about their troubles. But, like you said, he doesn't relate to normal people. He'll talk or really listen to you only if he perceives you to be suffering. It's almost as if the rest of us aren't really there. Or we don't matter to him. It's not only you he treats that way, Mongo. His attitude toward Dr. Slycke, the other staff, and me is one of benign neglect. He functions, will do what he's asked to do without question, and will listen to you politely; but you can tell that he's not actually relating. You know what I mean."
"I know what you mean. I also know that Garth and I have gone through a hell of a lot of good and bad times together. I'm not just anybody; I'm his brother."
"Yes," Tommy Carling said quietly as he blew a smoke ring, then butted out his cigarette in the grass. "But, again at the risk of being rude, I might suggest that an outside observer could conclude that you're envious of all the attention Garth is lavishing elsewhere."
"I won't deny that I'm hurt by Garth's reaction-or lack of it to me, Tommy. I also won't deny that I'm more than just a bit egocentric, but I'm not so self-centered that I can't separate my interests and needs from Garth's." I paused, trying to decide where I wanted to go next. I sensed that the conversation had reached a critical juncture, and I would either have to back off or go ahead. I went ahead. "After a certain point, which I think may have been reached, I have some doubts about the staff of this clinic being able-or even wanting-to make the same distinctions."
The male nurse slowly removed another cigarette from his pack, lit it with a butane lighter. When he spoke, his tone was flat. "You question the quality of the care Garth's been receiving, Mongo?"
"I'm not talking about you, Tommy. You have quite a gift yourself for working with the sick and helpless; I believe that you truly care for Garth, and have only his interests in mind. You're a good man and a good nurse, but you don't do the strategic thinking or make the final decisions around here."
"I have a lot of input, Mongo."
"I'm not talking about strictly medical decisions."
"Then I'm not sure what you're talking about."