Freudian Slip (11 page)

“You were the one who made me buy that outrageously expensive bra.”

An excellent purchase, don't you think?

“How can an angel—or whatever you are—be so into thongs and bras and seeing me naked?”

I don't know. I would dearly love to get laid but seeing as I don't have a body, I have to be satisfied with looking at you.

Kate slid beneath the covers. “Where are you?”

Lying next to you.

She rolled on her side and stared. “What do you look like?”

Devastatingly handsome.
Tall. Dark. Sexy. Well-hung.

Kate rolled her eyes. “Sure. But you can't use it. All talk, no action.”

Touché, Katie Girl.

“So Mr. Tall, Dark, Devastatingly Handsome and Well-Hung Ghost, why me?”

I was assigned to you.

“Assigned? Like a job?”

Precisely. Like a case. I know…Trust me, when I found out, I wasn't happy. I didn't want this responsibility. But now, I like it. I like being around you.

“You have a beautiful voice, Jules. It's…gravelly without being hoarse. It's sexy. A woman could fall in love with a voice like that.”

A ghost could fall in love with a girl like you. No pretense. Just real. You're refreshingly decent, Katie Girl, in a world lacking decency.

“That's very sweet, Jules. Can I ask you something?”

Anything.

“Can you touch me? If you touch me, can I feel it?”

I think so. When I touched you once, you woke up. I'm touching you now. To me, it feels like I have pins and needles. I'm touching your face and it tingles.

Kate crinkled up her nose. “I don't feel anything. But I know you're there. I've sensed you.”

Go to sleep, Katie Girl. Go to sleep. I'll watch over you.

She yawned. “All right. Will you be here when I wake up?”

Yes. I won't leave you, Katie Girl. I'd be happy to stay here watching you forever.

“Promise me. Promise you won't leave.”

I promise. Just so long as you don't marry the creep.

T
HE NEXT DAY
, by some miracle, Dr. Raphael Tobit had, he said, a last-minute cancellation. He could see her at four if she left work a little early.

Kate sat in her office and whispered, “Jules?”

Yes?

“Go home. I…I want to go see this guy alone.”

You don't need a shrink.

“Look…it's personal. I'm hearing voices.”

Not voices. One voice. Mine.

“Even so…some privacy please?”

Fine. Go alone.

“Thank you.”

I don't like it.

“I know. But really, this isn't normal.”

At three-forty-five, she shoved two manuscripts into her oversize bag and slung it across her shoulder. Occupational hazard. Most editors had very tight shoulders.

Dr. Tobit's office was—in another wonderful
little miracle—just a few blocks from the office. When she arrived at the stately brownstone, she stared up. Charming gargoyles carved in stoned lined the rooftop. A polished brass sign outside the door read DR. RAPHAEL TOBIT. She pressed the bell. It had a majestic gong sound.

The door opened, and Kate caught her breath. Mal was right. Actually, Mal hadn't done Dr. Tobit justice. He was incredibly handsome. No, that wasn't the word. He was
beautiful,
with a head of dark curls, and cheekbones and a jawline as chiseled as the stone gargoyles.

“You must be Kate.” He smiled at her. “Come in.”

Kate stepped inside. “How lovely,” she murmured. Mal was right again. No straight man would own a home like this one.

Marble floors swirled in a very faint pinkish hue. The floor-to-ceiling windows were covered with the sheerest of white sheers. They fluttered as some of the windows were open. Enormous statues carved from marble, and polished until they shone, lined the walls on stone pedestals. There were angels with magnificent wingspans, and right outside his office door stood a bust of Sigmund Freud.

“You collect some beautiful art. Even Freud here.” She thought the bust looked terribly realistic, each hair on his beard perfectly sculpted and
almost lifelike. The marble was alabaster, pure and clean, shining.

“Thank you.” He opened the door to his office and swept his hand aside.

Stepping into his inner sanctuary, a fountain topped by an angel gurgled pleasantly. Lush plants and orchids grew in gleaming pots on every surface. A Victorian rollback couch covered in dark purple velvet sat atop the plushest carpet she had ever seen. Facing that was another velvet couch, and between them a polished mahogany coffee table.

“Have a seat, Kate.” Dr. Tobit gestured to the couch. His voice was almost as soothing as Jules's.

Kate sank into the couch, finding it very comfortable.

He sat opposite her and folded his hands. “What brings you to my office today, Kate?”

“Well…” She sighed. He had such an open face, so compassionate-looking. “Well…where to start?”

“I usually find the beginning is best,” he joked.

She looked over at him. His face was so trustworthy, without judgment. It was as if his face compelled her to talk.

“Yes. Well…” Why
was
she here? “All right. I might as well start not at the beginning so much but at the—” She exhaled. “I'll cut to the chase. I'm hearing voices.”

“I see.” He nodded his head. “For how long?”

“Not that long. Recently.”

“And have you ever heard voices before?”

“No.”

“I see. And what do the voices tell you?”

“You think I'm crazy, don't you?”

“No. Well, though, I suppose that might depend on what the voices tell you.” He winked at her.

“It's one voice, actually.”

“Just one?”

“Yeah. Same one. All the time.”

“Do you recognize the voice?”

“No. Well, vaguely. But, no. And it has a name—Jules. A man's voice.”

“And what does this Jules tell you?”

“Well, that's the funny thing. He tells me I'm fabulous. He gives me courage. He…makes me believe anything is possible.”

“I see.”

She stared at him. His eyes were the palest blue she had ever seen, like the ice of a glacier.

“I suppose I should also tell you that the reason my cousin gave me your card is my father died in 9/11. And I walked in on my boyfriend and my best friend in bed together.”

“Recently?”

She nodded. “And that same night my apart
ment was robbed and my dog was lost. Though now I have her back again.”

“I'm sorry. And…did you ever hear the voice before all this happened?”

She shook her head. “No. Am I nuts?”

“Not nuts. I would say seriously stressed.”

“So, I'm imagining the voice.”

“I would…well, let me rephrase that. What do
you
think?”

“It doesn't sound like me. The voice. Not at all. It's a man's voice, for one thing. And it's so separate from me.”

“And is this voice here right now?”

“No.”

“You're sure.”

“No. Not here.”

“How come?”

“Because I told him to go home.”

“Told him to go home?”

“Yes. He kind of lives with me. You see…I've been telling myself it's a ghost. A ghost in my apartment.”

“A ghost. Do you believe in ghosts?”

“I didn't before.”

“Before all these awful recent events—the affair, the apartment break-in, and so on.”

“Yes. But now I'm not so sure.”

“And you're sure your ghost isn't here right now.” Dr. Tobit stared next to her—not at
her,
but at the spot on the couch next to her.

Damn. He can see me.

Kate whipped her head at Jules. Or at least where she thought Jules was.

“He cannot,” she hissed.

Then why did he look right at me?

“I don't know!”

She faced Dr. Tobit. “I told him to stay home, but apparently he's here.”

She expected the psychiatrist to lock her up. Call Bellevue. Fit her for a strait jacket.

“Why don't you ask him why he came?”

She faced Jules. “Why are you here, Jules, when I specifically asked you to go home?”

I didn't know what you were going to say to him. I was worried he'd…I don't know, drug you or something.

“He's worried you'll drug me.”

“Is he now?” Tobit's eyes seemed to twinkle slightly, and she noticed he had a dimple in the middle of his right cheek.

If he makes you take something, then maybe you won't be able to hear me anymore. And besides, I know you're not crazy. I know I'm real.

“You're going to prescribe me something, aren't you?”

“No, I'm not.”

She glared in Jules's direction. “See?”

“Actually, though…I'll rephrase that. I am going to prescribe something.”

See?

“But first, tell me about your father. Losing him.”

“It was the worst day of my life.”

“You were close?”

She nodded. “I…I've never met anyone quite like him. He just believed in me. And he was brave. And he never lost his temper. Ever. He listened to me.”

“Does this voice listen to you?”

“Yes.”

“And your mother?”

“She remarried. Very quickly after my father died, and it was difficult. I barely had time to adjust to his being gone, and suddenly she had moved on. Sold my childhood home. Boxed up any sign that my father existed. It was like he…never lived.”

“Friends?”

“My boss is a mentor to me. I adore her. And Mal is my best friend—my cousin. The one you gave the card to. I usually rent a place on Fire Island with her, another cousin, and five or six friends each summer, but this year, we were all so busy, we didn't think we'd even be able to get out there. But, yeah. I have friends. I had Leslie. Until…”

“The affair.”

Until she banged the jerk. For God's sake stop being all…nice about it. She screwed him.

“Shut up, Jules.”

“All right. Here's my prescription.”

I knew it!

“You have two assignments. One…I would like you to do something fun. Separate from the voice. Go on a date. Out somewhere. Tell the voice to stay home. Do something on your own. Two, I would like you to…maybe do a little bit of grief work surrounding your father. You could try writing a letter to him, and then simply not mail it. Or you could go visit your mother, maybe talk about your father…maybe make some special plans to observe the anniversary of 9/11 this year. I have a feeling that the more you can deal with that and cut down on some stress, the less you'll hear the voice. And I'd like to see you back again after you've completed your assignments.”

“Okay, Dr. Tobit. Thank you.”

That's his prescription? What's he going to charge you for that brilliant bit of advice? Two hundred dollars an hour?

The doctor stood and shook her hand. “Sometimes, Kate, all of us hear little voices in our heads when we need a little extra help in our lives.”

“I hope you're right.”

She left his office after giving him a check, and then stepped out onto the sidewalk.

I don't like that guy. What's with all the creepy angel statues?

“Jules…look…I…I don't know if I'm cracking up, or you're the stress in my life. I don't know. But…right now, you're confusing me.”

I'm just trying to help you.

“I know. But can we walk home in silence? Just for right now?”

Fine.

Kate sighed and walked in the August heat, the bag over her shoulder digging into her. What Dr. Tobit said made perfect sense. She felt herself connecting the dots.

Can I talk now?

“No.”

How about now?

“No!”

I'm real. I'm separate from you, Kate. And I'll prove it to you again. What, the yogurt wasn't enough?

“It was yogurt, Jules.”

I'll prove it again.

“How?”

What's Mallory's work address?

She gave it to him.

Meet you at home.

Rolling her eyes, she walked the rest of the way back to her building. Once in her apartment, she dropped her bag, grateful to have it off her shoulder. Then she took Honey for a walk, then came home, changed into shorts and a T-shirt and waited.

“Tobit's a genius. One session and no more voice.”

She leafed through a magazine. Was it that simple? One session and the voice was gone? It had all been stress.

An hour later, she felt lonely. She wondered if she should, to be safe, do that grief work. She took out a piece of paper and tried to decide what she would write her father if she were able.

All right, Kate, if I'm just in your head, then how can I do this?

“Do what?”

Write this down. Take dictation.

“I'm not your secretary.”

Take it down.

“Fine!”

Pen poised, she waited.

Mallory is at Nobu. She is wearing a black T-shirt with a screen print of Debbie Harry on it. She has an amethyst ring on her right hand. And
she got a tattoo tonight. A new one. It's a Chinese symbol for “breathe” on the inside of her left wrist. She ordered something different tonight. A spider roll. And a mango saketini. Call her cell phone now.

Heart pounding, Kate took her phone and dialed. “Please let this not be true,” she whispered, looking down at the words on the page.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mal. It's me.”