Stuart was far too cheerful in the morning.
“Good morning, Dr. Quinn,” the large orderly chimed from behind the reception desk.
His strong jawline broadened into a smile that belonged on an animated Disney villain. Julian had the distinct impression that the man was up to something – or going to break into a musical number – either of which might have sent Julian into seizures.
The hotel room didn’t have a coffee pot – which should be illegal in California. Julian Quinn had slept right through the hotel alarm, and by the time he had reached his car, there wasn’t even time for a drive-thru. As it were, he was fifteen minutes late when he walked into the ward. The fact that it wasn’t Stuart’s fault that Julian had been banned from his own bed slowly took hold. Julian closed the off-white door behind him and plastered a friendly smile on his face.
“Good morning, Stuart. How are things?”
Stuart hesitated. The pause was as uplifting as a biblical plague. The tall orderly was a talker – the kind that could, and would, start up a friendly conversation with a grizzly if given the chance. He could give it a run for its money at arm-wrestling, too. In Julian’s experience, only sleep and bad news managed to dampen Stuart’s ability to fill silence. He’d be fun to play poker against, Julian noted. The doctor took a deep breath and asked, “What happened Stuart?”
“Nothing too serious, Dr. Quinn. The morning sessions all went well, but Angelo Cheshire is refusing to take his medication again.”
“Ah,” It immediately made sense to Julian why Stuart looked nervous. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it,” With that, he plastered on another white-washed smile.
“Thank you, doctor,” Stuart said, and Julian saw the orderly’s shoulders relax. Julian nodded and took the clipboard. By habit, he flipped through the top three pages of the file and glanced over the notes.
“Angelo Cheshire,” he muttered as he paced the hall.
He knew, somehow he knew today would be the day, Julian thought to himself. His mind began grinding in old circles again. Julian took a moment to force it back under control. It was simply amazing how the man managed to push Julian’s buttons and his delusions did not help.
Quinn took a deep breath, steadied himself, and reached for the metal door handle.
“Julian, my friend, it is good to see you again,” said the patient.
Dr. Quinn looked up from his clipboard stonily.
“You don’t treat your friends well do you, Mr. Cheshire?”
“Please, Julian,” the patient said, reclining back in his chair. “I always ask you – call me Angelo.”
“I always request that you take your medication, Angelo. But, it seems you are not willing to hold up your end of the arrangement.”
Angelo let out a mournful sigh and smiled paternally.
“Dear Julian, you know I do not care for the drugs you give me. Please – sit down, let us talk for a bit.”
Angelo Cheshire was a man in the later part of his middle years. Gray patches strolled through his dark hair. He was a good sized man – above six foot tall and well built, especially since his entire adult life was, to Julian’s knowledge, spent mostly on the street or in an institution. His weathered face showed the miles his life had taken him, but his near-black eyes never seemed to catch-up. But, to Julian, that made sense. A man would have to face his problems for his eyes to reflect those hardships.
With a deep, calming breath, Julian set the clipboard firmly down on the table and spoke in slow, pastoral words.
“The last time you didn’t take your medication, Mr. Cheshire, you nearly broke Stuart’s arm. Three men had to restrain you.”
A mortified look came across Angelo’s face.
“I am sorry about that, Julian, but I did explain. We were at war.”
Julian shook his head.
“Angelo,” As soon as he said the name, Cheshire’s eyes lit up and Julian wondered if he had made a mistake. “You know that those other worlds of yours are delusions. They are not real.”
“My dear Julian, they are as real as this world.” Then, like a bulb dying in a blackout, the patient’s eyes sank down into deepest remorse. “My friend, if only you could remember.”
“There is nothing to remember, Mr. Cheshire. I have no concerns for being kings or warriors in other worlds. This is reality, and I have embraced it. I keep hoping that you will as well.”
“I do embrace it.” Angelo stared up at the doctor with embers of hope in his eyes. “Just, I embrace a wider view than you do, my friend.”
Julian paused for a moment, looked over the clipboard, and then calmly met Mr. Cheshire’s eyes once more.
“Will you take your medication today, Mr. Cheshire?”
“I would prefer not to, I think.”
“Would you prefer to attack the people who come to feed you again?”
“That won’t happen,” said the patient with the type of certainty that refused to share office space with sanity.
“Why do you believe this?”
“Well, obviously.” Angelo shrugged like they were talking about the sun rising. “The war is over.”
Julian bit back a laugh.
“So are you king again?”
With a smile spread across his features that would make a doting grandfather envious, Chesire answered.
“I am always a king, dear Julian, but no, we did not carry victory. You, yourself helped me reach the decision to submit to exile. The life it grants me is far more tranquil than the constant struggle of regaining power, but I do fear for the people and I despise the red sky that has blanketed over my world.”
With an effort, Julian did not react, and pondered this admission. For months, Dr. Quinn had been working with Angelo specifically to deal with his delusions. Cheshire’s adopting of Quinn into his other lives, although extremely frustrating, also appeared to have a calming influence in the delusions themselves. Without more information, it would be dangerous to encourage such aspects of Mr. Cheshire’s beliefs. At the same time, if Chesire believed that Quinn’s counsel was helping him in the other worlds, this could be a means to address several of the issues that Angelo faced.
“Is there other advice that I give you in the other worlds?” Quinn asked, conversationally.
Angelo grinned.
“Mostly, you offer abject apologies for keeping me in this cell and encourage me to slap you out of the funks you drift into. Your words, not mine, dear friend.”
“And that is why you refuse your medication, when you know I bring it to you to help you?”
“Your medication keeps me here longer than I would like, dear friend.”
“You don’t want to be in this world?”
“Would you?” He laughed, stretching his arms wide. “Look at the world I am in. Nothing more than four white walls. I subside off the work of others with nothing to apply my own hands to. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sky, I do not recall what color it is here, my friend. I do not long for war or royal privilege, but can you blame me for not wanting to remain in this world, where even our company is hindered by the walls you build around yourself?
“I know you mean well, dear Julian. I know better than most alive how you agonize over the well-being of others. That is the same in all worlds, and I do feel for the difficulties you are having with your wife. I know that it is agonizing for–”
“How did you know about–” Julian interrupted, but stopped himself before he went any further. He clinched his jaw and forced his tone to stay calm. Despite whatever the patient might believe, Angelo crossed a line that Quinn would not permit. More so, the anger welling inside him threatened to force his words to do more harm than good. Today was not the day for this conversation.
“I believe we are done for today, Mr. Cheshire.”
Julian closed the file and started to stand, but Angelo reached across and with a shout of authority and grabbed the doctor’s arm – his grip was like iron. Julian froze in place, the adrenaline stuck halfway between flight and fight, leaving him motionless. Then, it seemed Cheshire’s mind caught up with his body and understoond the action his body had taken. The man loosened his grip to a gentle touch and a look of utter anguish came across his face.
“Mr. Cheshire,” Julian began sharply, “I do not believe you are being helped by our relationship. You are not taking your medication as directed, and you just laid hands upon me. Despite what you may perceive, you are in these four walls not because of your medication, but because you are a danger to those around you. Without the anti-psychotics prescribed to you, violent tendencies arise. You nearly killed two men in a bar for spying on you. That was not some far off world. That was here, in flesh and blood, and you nearly left three children without a father.”
A look of terror came over Angelo’s face, but the crack in the dam refused to close.
“You dropped out of school at sixteen, joined the army at seventeen, and were dishonorably discharged at nineteen. Since then, you’ve burned every bridge you’ve crossed. Your mind retreats into these fantasies of yours to remove yourself from the life you find too difficult to face, and to make things worse, you have incorporated me into your fantasies, allowing you to live out your psychosis even when you would otherwise have no option but to face reality. You impose an artificial friendship where no true one exists.” Julian opened the file folder and slapped it shut again. “I have no choice but to remove myself from your treatment. Hopefully, you’ll gain a stronger grasp on really.”
“Please Julian, wait.” There was such despair in his voice, it surprised Quinn the words did not die in the air before reaching him. Quinn had not felt so close to violence in years, decades possibly. The fury he felt towards Angelo for bringing up Delores threatened to rupture with every movement, but the sorrow in the man’s eyes, the absolute and complete pain, was heartbreaking. Julian looked away from Cheshire.
Whether based in reality or not, the man’s despair was as real as the worn lines etched into his weathered face. Angelo was definitely right about one thing. Julian entered the field of psychiatry in order to help people, and in an act of anger Julian had made things worse.
After a long moment, he let out a sigh and sat back down.
Angelo smiled at him like an old friend and removed his hand from the doctor’s arm.
“I will take the medication, my friend. But, I ask that you do one thing for me first.”
Julian had to choke down a remark. The gall the man had – to make a stipulation after what had just transpired – managed to shock Julian. The constant rises and falls of the morning had started to take their toll. He felt utterly exhausted. Was it truly still morning? Wasn’t there a point reached when the hours no longer mattered, when a person could accept that they had faced enough for one day and let it end? Julian needed out of this room— to move on to the rest of his day with at least a semblance of normalcy.
“What do you want me to do, Angelo?”
“Come with me,” the patient said.
Julian stared in complete confusion.
“Angelo, what are you talking about?”
The patient’s eyes lit up again.
“Let me show you another world – the other world.”
“Mr. Cheshire, I am not taking you out of this room.”
Angelo shook his head and looked around at the white walls.
“My body never leaves this cell, and I would never ask that of you, Julian. I know how that would go against your character. I just ask you to let me show you. All you have to do is take my hand.”
Julian stared at Angelo with narrowed eyes.
“So… I hold your hand and you will take your medication?”
“Take my hand and I will show you realms you only remember in your dreams. I know how hard this world is for you, Julian. You tell me such every time I see you. You tire of day after day of fixing other’s problems while your own seem insurmountable. That has always been your curse. You manage so well to secure others the peace that you never find. In that way, this world is both of our prison.
“Take my hand.” Angelo extended his arm, patiently awaiting a grasp. “I will show you a world of violet skies and dancing flame. A world where magic is as simple as breathing — we jump from star to star as easily as taking a bus. You will see beauty that will rest your heart, and lift the weight of your soul. Please, Julian — let me show you more than this simple dungeon we share for a time.”
This is ridiculous, Julian thought.
It was a menial request and Dr. Quinn felt grateful for the simple means of ending this conversation. But, as he started to reach for Angelo’s hand, something flickered in his mind. Staring at Angelo’s dark eyes, there was no doubt that Angelo was staring at his best friend, delusion or not.
For a moment, his nervousness grew close to panic. How would Cheshire react when nothing happened? Angelo held onto his delusions with such force… what if he reacted violently when Julian was obviously unaffected? Angelo had never been violent with him, but challenging a schizophrenic’s delusions directly might prove dangerous..
A second fear came on next: what if… Angelo was right? This wasn’t the first time Angelo had knowledge of Julian’s personal life, but he had always chalked it up to orderlies sharing gossip a bit louder than they should. Angelo’s intelligence and curiosity would surely allow him to feed that information into his delusion.
Today, however, he had known about Delores, and Julian hadn’t mentioned that to a soul. Maybe someone paying close attention had noticed his demeanor as of late. Had he become that transparent that someone guessed he was nearing the point of no return and a divorce? He didn’t think so, but if not… how did Angelo know?
In a terrifying instant of self-realization, Julian understood that he wasn’t afraid Angelo might be correct. In his heart, longing, desperation clawed. He wanted him to be correct. What brought anxiety was the reality that Angelo must be wrong, that they were only the delusions of a madman. For a moment, Julian felt certain that madness, despite all evidence the contrary, must be contagious.
With a start, Julian realized he was not aware of how many seconds had slipped by as he thought of all this. He looked up at the patient who stared back at the doctor paternally, as though he were the therapist and Julian, the patient. Angelo slowly reached his open hand towards Julian, who could not understand, for the life of him, why he was sweating. He stared at the extended offer and pictured a lifeline reaching towards him, a man offering to pull him back from the edge of a cliff. He immediately rejected the image as ludicrous, but he could feel his heart speeding up, pounding up to a crescendo.
Quickly he extended his own hand and grasped Angelo’s in a tight firm grasp.
And nothing. He looked around at the white walls and nearly empty table in unexpected disappointment. He stared deep into Angelo’s exultant deep brown eyes and felt, what… betrayal? A deep feeling of remorse and shame coursed through him. On their heels came a rush of anger he could not explain.
“You are a good friend, Julian,” Angelo said genuinely.
He slowly let go of Julian’s hand and reached for his medication. He tossed the small paper cup of pills into his mouth and used the second cup of water to drink them down.
“A true friend.”
Julian stared at the man, trying to sift his logic through his frustration. He knew Angelo was not in complete control of his delusions. No rational reason existed for him to feel rage toward the man, but that did not reduce the burning. Not only had Angelo made a fool of him, he used Delores to do it. At the moment, logic and reason fell short to the shattered feeling inside of his chest.
Gritting his teeth, Julian snatched up the file and stormed out the room. Not a word followed from Angelo as the doctor locked the door behind him and traversed the hall. His pace fell just short of running. His head swam wildly. He paused a moment to lean against the wall, drawing heavy breaths.
Before he finished gathering himself, the door to the hall swung open.
“Thanks again, Dr. Quinn,” Stuart said briskly, as the he shuffled off to one of his morning appointments.
Quinn turned and nodded. He could move again. He didn’t care about his morning appointments. A desperate need to be out of the building struck him and he headed past the receptionist and her greeting. He was only concerned with reaching the entryway.
By the time he reached the door, he was nearly running again. His heart pounded in his chest. He pushed the door open into the morning light, tripped over the lip of the frame in his hurry, and stumbled to the ground.
“Are you alright, sir?” A woman’s voice.
A hand was on his shoulder, helping him to his feet. With staggered steps, he moved towards a small bench and sat down. As he looked up, it felt as though the world fell out from under him again.
“Sir!” The voice came again, her tone slightly impatient. She must have had to repeat the word a few times before he had responded.
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just lost my balance a bit.”
“Would you like me to call for someone?” she asked.
She was a tiny slip of a woman, with black hair and deep brown eyes that seemed completely out of place with her fair skin.
She offered, again, to call for assistance, but he politely convinced her of his competency. He insisted that he just needed a moment and she headed into the hospital.
As she walked away, he marveled at the woman and the image surrounding her. Was it the fall? He wondered. He didn’t think he hit his head, and the stress of the morning was enough to push any man to the limit.
He looked up at the soft white clouds draped across a quarter of the sky. It was a sky like a thousand others he had watched, which made it all the more difficult to comprehend what he had just seen seconds before. For in that moment, as Julian looked up at the woman’s face, he would have sworn upon everything he held dear that all around her, fire danced in a violet sky.