Алекс Михаэлидес - The Silent Patient

“Is this just a ploy to spend more time together? If so, how about we skip the preamble and go to bed?”

I laughed. “Maybe afterwards. If you’re good and don’t fidget too much.”

I positioned him standing in front of the fan. His hair blew in the breeze.

“How should I look?” He struck a pose.

“Not like that. Just be yourself.”

“Don’t you want me to adopt an anguished expression?”

“I’m not sure Jesus was anguished. I don’t see him like that. Don’t pull any faces—just stand there. And don’t move.”

“You’re the boss.”

He stood for about twenty minutes. Then he broke the pose, saying he was tired.

“Sit down, then. But don’t talk. I’m working on the face.”

Gabriel sat on a chair and kept quiet while I worked. I enjoyed painting his face. It’s a good face. A strong jaw, high cheekbones, elegant nose. Sitting there with the spotlight on him, he looked like a Greek statue. A hero of some kind.

But something was wrong. I don’t know what—maybe I was pushing too hard. I just couldn’t get the shape of his eyes right, nor the color. The first thing I ever noticed about Gabriel was the sparkle in his eyes—like a tiny diamond in each iris. But now for some reason I couldn’t catch it. Maybe I’m just not skilled enough—or maybe Gabriel has something extra that can’t be captured in paint. The eyes remained dead, lifeless. I could feel myself getting annoyed.

“Fuck,” I said. “It’s not going well.”

“Time for a break?”

“Yeah. Time for a break.”

“Shall we have sex?”

That made me laugh. “Okay.”

Gabriel jumped up, took hold of me, and kissed me. We made love in the studio, there on the floor.

The whole time, I kept glancing at the lifeless eyes in Gabriel’s portrait. They were staring at me, burning into me. I had to turn away.

But I could still feel them watching.

CHAPTER TWO

I WENT TO FIND DIOMEDES to report on my meeting with Alicia. He was in his office, sorting through piles of sheet music.

“Well”—he didn’t look up—“how did it go?”

“It didn’t, really.”

Diomedes gave me a quizzical glance.

I hesitated. “If I’m going to get anywhere with her, I need Alicia to be able to think, and feel.”

“Absolutely. And your concern is…?”

“It’s impossible to get through to someone when they’re so heavily medicated. It’s like she’s six feet underwater.”

Diomedes frowned. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m not familiar with the exact dose she’s on—”

“I checked with Yuri. Sixteen milligrams of risperidone. A horse’s dose.”

Diomedes raised an eyebrow. “That’s certainly quite high, yes. It could probably be reduced. You know, Christian is the head of Alicia’s care team. You should talk to him about it.”

“I think it’ll sound better coming from you.”

“Hmm.” Diomedes gave me a doubtful look. “You and Christian knew each other before, didn’t you? At Broadmoor?”

“Very slightly.”

Diomedes didn’t respond immediately. He reached over to a little dish of sugared almonds on his desk and offered me one.

I shook my head.

He popped an almond in his mouth and crunched it, watching me as he chewed. “Tell me, is everything friendly between you and Christian?”

“That’s an odd question. Why do you ask?”

“Because I’m picking up on some hostility.”

“Not on my part.”

“But on his?”

“You’ll have to ask him. I have no problem with Christian.”

“Hmm. Perhaps I’m imagining it. But I’m sensing something.… Keep an eye on it. Any aggression or competitiveness interferes with the work. You two need to work with each other, not against each other.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Well, Christian needs to be included in this discussion. You want Alicia to feel, yes. But remember, with greater feeling comes greater danger.”

“Danger for whom?”

“For Alicia, of course.” Diomedes wagged his finger at me. “Don’t forget she was highly suicidal when we first brought her here. She made numerous attempts to end her life. And the medication keeps her stable. It keeps her alive. If we lower the dose, there’s every chance she will be overwhelmed by her feelings and be unable to cope. Are you prepared to take that risk?”

I took what Diomedes said seriously. But I nodded. “It’s a risk I believe we need to take, Professor. Otherwise we’ll never reach her.”

Diomedes shrugged. “Then I shall talk to Christian on your behalf.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll see how he reacts. Psychiatrists don’t often respond well to being told how to medicate their patients. Of course, I can overrule him, but I don’t tend to do that—let me broach the subject with him subtly. I’ll tell you what he says.”

“It might be better not to mention me when you talk to him.”

“I see.” Diomedes smiled strangely. “Very well, I won’t.”

He pulled out a little box from his desk, sliding off the cover to reveal a row of cigars. He offered me one. I shook my head.

“You don’t smoke?” He seemed surprised. “You look like a smoker to me.”

“No, no. Only the occasional cigarette—just now and then … I’m trying to quit.”

“Good, good for you.” He opened the window. “You know that joke, about why you can’t be a therapist and smoke? Because it means you’re still fucked-up.” He laughed and popped one of the cigars into his mouth. “I think we’re all a bit crazy in this place. You know that sign they used to have in offices? ‘You don’t need to be mad to work here, but it helps’?”

Diomedes laughed again. He lit the cigar and puffed on it, blowing the smoke outside. I watched him enviously.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER LUNCH I PROWLED THE CORRIDORS, looking for an exit. I was intending to sneak outside and have a cigarette, but I was discovered by Indira by the fire escape. She assumed I was lost.

“Don’t worry, Theo,” she said, taking my arm. “It took me months to get my bearings around here. Like a maze with no way out. I still get lost sometimes and I’ve been here ten years.” She laughed. Before I could object, she was guiding me upstairs for a cup of tea in the “goldfish bowl.”

“I’ll put the kettle on. Bloody miserable weather, isn’t it? I wish it would just snow and get it over with.… Snow is a very powerful imaginative symbol, don’t you think? Wipes everything clean. Have you noticed how the patients keep talking about it? Look out for it. It’s interesting.”

To my surprise, she reached into her bag and pulled out a thick slice of cake wrapped in cling film. She thrust it into my hand. “Take it. Walnut cake. I made it last night. For you.”

“Oh, thank you, I—”

“I know it’s unorthodox, but I always get better results with difficult patients if I give them a slice of cake in the session.”

I laughed. “I bet you do. Am I a difficult patient?”

Indira laughed. “No, although I find it works just as well on difficult members of staff too—which you’re not either, by the way. A little bit of sugar is a great mood enhancer. I used to make cakes for the canteen, but then Stephanie made such a fuss, all this health-and-safety nonsense about food being brought in from the outside. You’d think I was smuggling in a file. But I still bake a little on the sly. My rebellion against the dictator state. Try it.”

This was not a question but a command. I took a bite. It was good. Chewy, nutty, sweet. My mouth was full, so I covered it with my hand as I spoke.