Сэмуэль Шэм - Mount Misery

were twisted by dreadful secrets they lied through their teeth about like Ike White, whatever his secrets were. Schlomo would know, Schlomo, Dee's failed first analyst, and why had he failed anyway? This stuff is dangerous! I thought of Christine who was probably okay as okay as you could be with Bozer and Berry who was okay except for us being disconnected and then of Cherokee who I doubted was okay. I had a vision then of Cherokee floating out there somewhere, floating like a spacewalker in the subzero black tethered by a threadlike lifeline not floating happily oh no floating in that deathly isolation of terror-but what could I do? I'd called often and left messages, written him notes-he hadn't replied. The only thing I hadn't done was show up at his house like a dread borderline, tromp through his stables yoo-hooing, or with mallet in hand and jodhpurs and Teflon cap appear at his polo field looking for a game, I guess I could try that, but what I actually did try right then was to kind of pray for him imagine that, trying to call through that lifeline to him, "Hang in, Cherokee! Be well! Call or write a postal cart! Come back!" How Schlomoesque and what had Schlomo actually said to Dee anyway, that last afternoon maybe that fat little creep had tipped Dee over? And then I recalled what Solini and I had said a little while ago, on parting:

"This is a helluva way to learn to be a psychiatrist," I'd said.

"Yeah, but it beats dry cleaning."

"Still?"

"Are you kidding? Standing there breathing carbon tet fumes, staring up the skirts of these big Lakota Sioux women doing the pressing?"

"Hm. Doesn't sound so bad right now, does it?"

"Hm. Y'know, right now it doesn't, does it?"

"Least you could keep your ideals."

TOSHIBA

"You've studied it and studied it and decided that it's

turning bits on and off! And it's a BRILLIANT INSIGHT!..

And then there's this relationship with Hewlett'Packard

that we KEEP SCREWING UP!. What about this

bullshit thing with no definition!"

— BILL GATES

Microsoft

Seven

AS IF HALFHEARTED prayer had worked, a few days later there was a message from Cherokee Putnam to give him a call as soon as possible. At the sight of that pink memo slip, my heart whirred on its spindle like a happy top, the way it does when you see something that reminds you of the person you love, the way I'd feel whenever I'd see Jill's rusted-out Buick parked in back of the house up the street where she was staying, and the way I used to feel with Berry. I still loved Berry, more than I loved anyone else in my life, but lately we'd both gotten guarded and careful and fighting the touch of nostalgia. The sight of her Volvo driving up the hill toward my turret brought less a whir than a worry that Jill, driving by, would see it and get pissed. Did the zing of Cherokee's note mean that I loved him? Well, kind of. I called him back at once. He picked up at once. We met in my office almost at once.

"I was damn furious at you," he said. "We'd had two such good meetings, and then, in that one session, you were acting like such a creep. It was unlike you."

"I'm sorry," I said, noticing how frazzled he seemed- Eddie Bauer twill pants wrinkled, pullover sweater stained, hair uncombed, eyes tired.

"Nothing to be sorry for. In fact you set things moving again, set me thinking that maybe that jerk actually was screwing her after all. I was miserable, but I thank you, for that." I nodded, wondering if, now that I'd vowed never again to use Heiler cruelty, there was something useful in it after all? Terrific. "And so yesterday morning at six I followed her to his office."

"Youdidwto?"

"Followed her there, thinking I'd go in with her. But I couldn't, I just couldn't bring myself to. I sat and watched her get out of her Jeep and go in there, but it seemed, somehow, too… just too. I sat there imagining, fuming, and then decided to confront her after the session, when she came out. At six-forty I walked down the path to the carriage house and into the waiting room." He shook his head in amazement. "Oh boy."

"What happened?"

"This… this total imbecile was waiting there, for his appointment." As I listened, he gave a perfect description of Arnie Bozer. "And he wanted to talk. Like we were pals, he started asking me who I was, what I was doing there, that there must be some mistake because he was next-all in the most sickly-sweet, waffley way?" I nodded. "And hi the middle of this she came out, crying hysterically. Seeing me, she stopped, as if she'd been shot, and then ran out. I wanted to run after her but then I heard him shout down from upstairs, and this corn-ball starts up the stairs and, well, I don't know what got into me but I shoved him aside and went up there myself. The imbecile fought back, tried to elbow me out of the way so that we both were standing there in front of this… this…" Words failed him. He shook his head, eyes widening, mouth agape, like a man who has seen a bad accident. Then he turned to me. "You've seen him?"

"I have."

"So my first thought was 'No way, absolutely no way.' There I stood, with this advertisement for flapjacks beside me, and he…" With difficulty he said the word, "Schlomo says, 'This your lover, Bozer?' And cracks up! This Bozer goes bananas-by the way, what's with these bananas?"

"He says they're for his heart."

"Heart?" His face turned thoughtful. "Father died of heart failure. Anyway, this cornball shouts out, 'No! I never saw him before in my life! He's got the wrong time, tell him to go!" And Schlomo turns to me and says, 'Nu, and you?' I tell him who I am, and his face lights up like a kid's on his birthday. 'Oy what a joy, come in, come in.' Bozer goes ballistic, and Schlomo shouts at him, 'Arnold, sit! Go downstairs and sit\' And like a dog, he does. And then I sit down with… with my enemy, and… and…"

"Yes?"

"It was quite a trip." Cherokee smiled, then laughed, and then told me how, starting out ready to rip out Schlomo's heart, he wound up charmed: "That man could charm a moose into a hat rack." More than charmed, feeling like he'd learned something about himself. He'd confronted Schlomo about Lily. Schlomo had responded with the most humble and abject curiosity, saying, "Tell Schlomo, tell Schlomo Dove, about betrayed." Gradually, somehow, with an implied, pathetic self-denigration, which Cherokee said had really cracked open when Schlomo said, "Compared to Schlomo Dove, you are gorgeous!" they'd shifted the focus to Cherokee's own concerns about feeling like a failure as a husband for Lily, and as a father for Hope and Kissy, until, finally, Schlomo asked how Cherokee's therapy with me was going. "I told him it was over, because you were inexperienced and had acted like a jerk. I asked him if he could refer me to an experienced analyst. Know what he said?"

"What?"

"He said you were young but a 'mensch,' a terrific therapist, and I should stick with you. So I thanked him and called you right up."

I was so stunned by all of this, I couldn't say anything.

"And I left, after an hour, and thanked him, and you know what he said?"

"What?"

''' 'No charge.' " Cherokee shook his head in amazement. "One look at that guy, you know how much he's suffered. He knows what it's like. I told Lily about it-for the first time I told her about suspecting her of having sex with him. She was mortified, and didn't want to talk about it. The only thing she said was, 'The one thing I have that's totally my own, and you barge in and try to take it away. After all I sacrificed for you and this family? How could you?' I was feeling reassured, flying high, looking forward to working with you again, but now, telling you about it all…"

"Yes?"

"Well, it's strange-and this is really crazy: his being so ugly, and his being, well, so damn human with me in the face of that ugliness, made him appealing, you know what I mean?"