Эд Макбейн - Learning to Kill - Stories

But it was there, and first it was gray like the ocean and then it got deeper like a dense fog and then it turned black and blacker, and the dark came and I knew I was falling, and I couldn’t stop because Jeannie’s eyes were only marbles.

I am lying on a sidewalk in a strange street.

The sun is just rising and the bustle of the day has not yet begun. There is a severe pain in my head. I know I haven’t been drinking, yet where did this terrible pain come from?

I rise and brush off my clothes.

It is then that I notice the blood on my hands and on my shoes. Blood?

Have I been fighting? No, no, I don’t remember any fighting. I remember... I remember... calling on Jeannie.

She did not feel like going out, so we decided to sit at home and talk. She made coffee, and we were sitting and drinking and talking.

How do I come to be in this strange street? With blood on my body?

I begin to walk.

There are store windows with various forms of merchandise in them. There is a man’s overcoat lying in the street, a ragged overcoat lying in a heap. I pass it rapidly.

It is starting to drizzle now. I walk faster. I must see Jeannie. Perhaps she can clear this up for me.

Anyway, the drizzle is turning into a heavy rain.

And I have never liked the darkness or dampness that come with a storm.

“Boy,” the psychiatrist said.

“Girl,” the man answered.

“Black,” the psychiatrist said.

“White,” the man answered.

“Mmm,” the psychiatrist said. He jotted some notes down on a sheet of paper, and then said, “All right, Mr. Bellew, let’s go on, shall we?”

Bellew was a thin man with shaggy brown hair.

He twisted his hands nervously and said, “All right, Doctor.”

“Now then,” the doctor said, consulting his notes. “Bird.”

“Free,” Bellow said.

“Did you say ‘tree’?”

“No. No, I said ‘free.’ Free.”

“Um-huh. Knife.”

“Death.”

“Um-huh. Red.”

“Bl...”

“What did you say?”

“Blue. Blue was what I said.”

“I see,” the doctor said. “House.”

“Home.”

“Home,” the doctor said.

“Children,” Bellew answered.

“Children.”

“Kites.”

“Kites,” the doctor said.

“Free,” Bellew answered.

The doctor made a disinterested note, and then looked up. “According to your letter, Mr. Bellew, you’ve been disturbed about something, is that right?”

“Yes,” Bellew said slowly.

“Um-huh.” The doctor reached for the slitted envelope on his desk, and then pulled the letter from it. His free hand picked up a pointed letter opener and idly tapped it on the desk as he read from the sheet of stationery. “It’s curious you should write. I mean, most people call, or stop by in person.”

“I wanted to do that, but I was afraid to,” Bellew said.

“Afraid to?” the doctor asked. He continued tapping the metal letter opener. “Why?”

“I... I don’t like doctors,” Bellew said nervously.

“Oh, come now. Don’t you like me?”

“Well...”

“You did come here, didn’t you? After I called back to arrange for an appointment, you did come, didn’t you? You’re here now, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Bellew said. “I’m here.”

“And it hasn’t been so terrible, has it?”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Just a few tests, that’s all.” The doctor chuckled. “Nothing at all to be afraid of.”

“I suppose not,” Bellew said.

“Then what’s been disturbing you?”

“I don’t know,” Bellew said.

“You don’t like doctors, is that it?”

Bellew hesitated. “Yes,” he said.

“Well, I’m a doctor, and we’re getting along fine, aren’t we?” The doctor smiled and dropped the letter opener. “You do like me, don’t you, Mr. Bellew?”

“I... I don’t know,” Bellew said.

“But we’re getting along fine, Mr. Bellew,” the doctor said enthusiastically. “You must admit that.”

“Y... yes,” Bellew said.

“There! You see how your dislike is unfounded?”

“I... oh, I...” Bellew wet his lips.

“What is it, Mr. Bellew?”

“I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t have come to you.”

“Now, now. Easy does it,” the doctor said. “Quite frankly, Mr. Bellew, the tests we’ve just taken show no indication of any personality disturbance. I’m speaking off the cuff, you understand, since the tests must still be interpreted. But I can judge fairly accurately from a casual interpretation of your answers, and I’d say you were in the pink of mental health.”

“The... the pink,” Bellow repeated blankly.

“Yes, the pink. Top shape. Excellent form. Oh, a few anxieties, perhaps, but nothing serious.” The doctor chuckled. “Nothing more than all of us are suffering in these nervous times.”

“I... I can’t believe that,” Bellow said.

The doctor lifted his eyebrows. “But the tests...”

“Then the tests must be wrong,” Bellew said firmly.

“No, I don’t think so,” the doctor said patiently. “Really, Mr. Bellew...”

“Are you trying to tell me I’m not disturbed when I know I’m disturbed?”

“There,” the doctor said. “Most seriously disturbed persons don’t even know they’re disturbed. That’s the root of all their troubles. When a person seeks the aid of a psychiatrist, seeks the doctor voluntarily, his battle is half won. Don’t you see?”

“No. You haven’t helped me at all. You’ve just told me I’m all right when I know I’m not all right.”

“I said you may have a few anxieties, but we can clear those up in just a very short time. There’s certainly nothing serious to worry about.”

“I don’t believe it,” Bellew said.

“Well...” The doctor spread his hands wide. “I don’t see how I can convince you.” He paused, a blank expression on his face.

Bellew snorted disgustedly. “You’re all the same,” he said. “All you damn doctors.”

“Now, now, Mr. Bellew...”

“Oh, don’t ‘now, now’ me. All you’re after is a fee, just like the rest. I tell you I’m sick, and you won’t believe it. What the hell am I supposed to do? You just give me your damn tests and ask me to identify inkblots and associate words and... oh, the hell with it.”

“That’s all part of your anxiety, Mr. Bellew,” the doctor said. “As I said, we can clear that up in no time.”

“That’s what you say. On the basis of your damn tests,” Bellew said, clenching and unclenching his hands.

“The tests are usually valid, Mr. Bellew,” the doctor said. He paused, and then an inspired look crossed his face. “Say, look, I’ll show you. I mean, I can show you just how normal you are, all right?”

“Go ahead,” Bellew said tightly, his fists clenched now.

“Just give me the first word that pops into your mind when I give you a word. The way we just...”

“We did this already,” Bellew said, a tic starting at the corner of his mouth.

“I know. But I want to show you one thing. Let’s try it, shall we?” He paused and then said, “Boy.”

“Girl,” Bellew said.

“A perfectly normal response,” the doctor said happily. “Girl.”

“Woman,” Bellew said.

“Again, a normal response. Woman.”

“Bed,” Bellew said.

“You see, Mr. Bellew, these are normal responses.” He rose from his desk and began walking around the room. “Bed.”

“Sheet,” Bellew answered.

“Fine, fine,” the doctor said. “Sheet.”

“White.”

“White,” the doctor said.

“Flesh,” Bellew answered.