“Terrific,” I said with quiet certainty, and he nodded.
“I'm delighted to hear it. And the second man is only a fantasy? Which is it? You can tell me. I know you trust me.”
“It's actually both. I know this will sound crazy to you, Dr. Steinfeld. But the second man, Paul, is really the Klone of the first one. His name is Peter.”
“You mean they look very similar? Are they twins?”
“No, I mean they're the same person. Paul is Peter's clone, more or less. Peter is in bionics, and he's done some very unusual experiments, and I really love him.” Tiny little beads of sweat appeared on Dr. Steinfeld's forehead. Admittedly, this wasn't easy for either of us, and I was almost sorry I had come to see him.
“Tell me, Stephanie, have you been taking any medication? Self-medicating perhaps? You know, some drugs have serious side effects and can cause hallucinations.”
“I am not hallucinating. Paul is Peter's bionic clone, and Peter sent him to me when he went out of town. I slept with him for two weeks last fall and it's just started again. I feel completely crazy. Whoever I'm with is the one I'm most in love with … except I always love Peter. He's the real one.”
“Stephanie,” he said firmly then, “do you hear voices sometimes? Even when you're not with them?”
“No, I do not hear voices, Doctor. I am sleeping with two men, and I don't know what to do about it.”
“Then that's clear. Are they both real men, Stephanie? I mean humans, like you and I?”
“No,” I said cautiously, “one isn't. Paul is here right now, because Peter is away. He sent him to me.”
Dr. Steinfeld quietly mopped his brow and continued to stare at me, while I wished myself anywhere on the planet but in his office.
“Is Paul in the room with us right now?” he asked carefully. “Can you see him now?”
“ Of course not.”
“That's good. Do you feel abandoned when Peter leaves you? Do you need to fill that void with someone else, perhaps even someone imagined?”
“No. I don't just make him up because I feel rejected. Peter sends him to me.”
“How does he send him to you?” On a UFO maybe. By then he was obviously expecting something like that from me. It was hopeless.
“Paul arrives with about fifteen pieces of matched purple alligator luggage from Hermes. He has pretty eccentric taste in clothes too, but he's a lot of fun to be with.”
“What about Peter? What is he like?”
“Wonderful, conservative, smart, loving, he's great with my kids, and I'm crazy about him.”
“And what does he wear?”
“Blue jeans and button-down shirts, and gray flannels and a blazer.”
“Does that disappoint you? Do you fantasize about him being more like Paul?”
“No, I love him the way he is. He's actually sexier than Paul, without even trying. My knees go weak when I see him.” I smiled then, just thinking about it.
“That's nice, Stephanie. Very nice. And how do you feel about Paul?”
“I love him too. He loves to have a good time, and he's pretty badly behaved sometimes. But he loves my kids too, and he's very lovable, and amazingly good in bed. He does this thing where he does somersaults in the air, and then lands on the floor with me on top of him, and …” I could see that Dr. Steinfeld was rapidly approaching a nervous breakdown, and I felt sorry for him.
“Somersaults in the air? Is this the imaginary one, or the real one?”
“He's not imaginary. He's a Klone. A bionic clone. He has wires. But he looks just like Peter.”
“What happens when Peter returns, does he disappear again, or do you still ‘see’ him?”
“No. They take him back to the shop, check his wires, and take his head off.”
There was sweat running down the sides of Dr. Steinfeld's face by then, and he was frowning at me. I hadn't gone there to torture him, but to relieve myself, and it obviously wasn't working. For either of us.
“Stephanie, have you ever considered taking medication?”
“Like what? Prozac? I used to take Valium. You prescribed it for me.”
“Actually, I was thinking of something a little stronger. Something a little more suited to your problem. Like Depakote perhaps. Have you ever heard of it? Have you been taking medication since I last saw you?”
“No, I haven't.”
“Have you been hospitalized recently?” he asked sympathetically, and I started to panic, thinking he was about to call Bellevue to have me checked in. But maybe I belonged there.
‘No. And I know this sounds ridiculous, but it really is happening. I swear it.”
“I know you believe that. I'm sure they both seem very real to you.” I could see in his eyes that he was convinced that I had invented both of them, and was utterly crazy, which was true, but not to the degree he thought so. I hated Peter suddenly for unleashing this problem on me in the first place. “Now, our hour is up, but I want you to fill this prescription for some medication. And I'm going to make time to see you tomorrow.”
“I don't have time. Paul and I are taking the children Christmas shopping.”
“I see,” he said, looking even more worried. “Does Roger have custody of them?”
“No, I do.” But suddenly all I wanted to do was laugh when I looked at him. He was so dismayed by what I had told him. I just wish he could have seen Paul in silver or gold lame, puce, or chartreuse, or hot pink or bright purple. The leopard jumpsuit would have done it too, or the orange velour lounging suit he had worn the night before at dinner. Dr. Steinfeld would have loved him. He would have understood why I was so confused.
“Do you get headaches, Stephanie? Severe ones?”
“No, Doctor, I don't,” I said, smiling at him. I stood up then and he looked intensely worried. “I'm really sorry this is all so confusing.”
“We'll get it all sorted out soon. You'll feel much better on the medication. It will take a few weeks to take hold, so it's very important you start right away. I want you to call me tomorrow and make another appointment.”
“I'll do that,” I said, and practically ran out the door before he could commit me.
I hailed a cab and went home, and found Paul playing with the kids. He was already into his second bottle of bourbon, and all I could do was look at him and shake my head, just like Dr. Steinfeld.
“Are you okay?” he asked a few minutes later, when he came to see what I was cooking for dinner.
“No, I hate you,” and at that exact moment, I meant it. “I went to my old shrink this afternoon, and thanks to you and that lunatic who sent you here, I convinced him that I'm completely crazy.”
“Did you tell him you're not, we are?”
“I tried to. But I think he's right. I think it's contagious.”
“What did he tell you to do?” Paul asked with interest.
“Take medications for my hallucinations. I told him you were a Klone, and he asked me if you were in the room with me at that moment. Nice, huh?”
“Very. Believe me, if I'd been there, he would have known it.”
“No kidding.” He was wearing zebra velvet pants, and a black satin shirt open to the waist, with his peace sign. “He could have heard you, not just seen you.” Paul gave me a look. He heard something in my voice. I just wasn't in the mood for Paul's antics. For the first time, I was actually sick of the outrageous clothes he wore, the way he drank, and picking myself up off the floor after the double flip. I really missed Peter.
And after dinner, when Peter called me, I took the phone in the bathroom to talk in private.
“How's it going?”
“Fine, thank you. I'm completely crazy.”
“Are the kids giving you a hard time?”
“No, you are. Both of you,” I said, and he understood instantly what I was saying.
“Is he there again?” He sounded surprised, and not very happy about it.
“As if you didn't know. Didn't you send him?”