Chapter 33
Joe couldn’t believe his eyes, but there was no denying what he saw. It was his brother; it was Charlie, sitting alone in the common area on the secure floor. The admitting nurse had told him where his brother was being treated. Another patient sat near Charlie, but the two were not speaking. The man had a long beard and wild, stringy hair that fell past his shoulders. His wizened face was etched deep with lines, which showed years of hard living and suggested a certain wisdom and kindness. The face was familiar, perhaps someone Joe recognized from his volunteer work on the floor. But with all the chaos and confusion of the moment, while trying his best to temper the anxiety growing within, Joe simply couldn’t focus enough to make the connection. Charlie and Joe held an uncomfortable stare for a moment—each perhaps trying to adjust to the situation and allow time to validate that it was even real. Then Charlie looked away.
Joe approached.
“Charlie, what is going on?” Joe asked.
Charlie didn’t answer.
“I thought you said you were in L.A.,” Joe said.
“I lied,” Charlie said. His voice sounded wounded.
“I don’t understand any of this.”
The old man with wild hair stood and approached Joe. He extended a hand, and Joe took it without hesitation.
“I’m George,” the man said. “George Ferris. Is this your brother?”
Joe’s face became illuminated with a jubilant and starstruck enthusiasm. “The Dr. Ferris?” Joe asked.
“I suppose. Unless there’s another,” George said. His words were hurried, and his voice was gravelly, bordering on hoarse. “I’ve been trying to apologize to your brother for my behavior. I sort of hung up his call for him. He won’t accept my apology, and I won’t stop giving it until he does.”
“I heard a rumor you were here. I was going to come find you and introduce myself. I’m a big fan,” said Joe.
George simply nodded. Charlie’s jaw dropped open.
“I’ve been here ten days now,” George said. “I’ll be here a bit longer. I’m not ready to leave just yet.”
“Doctor?” Charlie asked. He looked at George with wary eyes.
“Doctor of computer science, actually,” said George.
“Also a writer and brilliant philosopher,” Joe added.
“I don’t understand,” Charlie said. “You’ve been talking nonsense to me since I got here. You keep saying something about a queen and an oven. You even assaulted me!”
“Yes, well, I’m sorry about that, too,” said George. “I don’t always have control of my thoughts and actions, Charlie. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? My medication and treatment program haven’t been working well for a few weeks now. I decided to check myself in for a tune-up, if you will. I truly apologize if I frightened and upset you. I assure you, that wasn’t my intention.”
“Then what was your intention?” Charlie asked.
“I think I just took an interest in you because you seemed so desperately in need of a friend,” George replied. “I really meant the best. Unfortunately, I approached you at moments when I should have kept my distance.”
“And attacked me,” Charlie added.
“Yes. Regrettable. But after that night in your room and our last run-in, I asked for an increase in my medication. It seems to have helped. I’m better able to organize my thoughts now. Well, at least some of the time.” George gave a toothy smile, and Charlie nodded.
“So, Charlie,” Joe said. “That’s George’s story. Why don’t you tell me yours?”