Twisted

She’s paranoid.”
    “And you haven’t said or done anything that might trouble her deeply or affect her sense of reality?”
    “No,” Peter said.
    “How much is she worth?” Harry asked bluntly.
    Peter blinked. “You mean, her portfolio?”
    “Net worth.”
    “I don’t know exactly. About eleven million.”
    Harry nodded. “And the money’s all hers, isn’t it?”
    A frown crossed Peter Randolph’s face. “What’re you asking?”
    “I’m asking, if Patsy were to go insane or to kill herself would you get her money?”
    “Go to hell!” Randolph shouted, standing up quickly. For a moment Harry thought the man was going to hit him. But he pulled his wallet from his hip pocket and took out a card. Tossed it onto Harry’s desk. “That’s our lawyer. Call him and ask him about the prenuptial agreement. If Patricia’s declared insane or if she were to die the money goes into a trust. I don’t get a penny.”
    Harry pushed the card back. “That won’t be necessary. . . . I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” he said. “My patient’s care comes before everything else. I had to know there’s no motive for harming her.”
    Randolph adjusted his cuffs and buttoned his jacket. “Accepted.”
    Harry nodded and looked Peter Randolph over carefully. A prerequisite for being a therapist is the ability to judge character quickly. He now sized up this man and came to a decision. “I want to try something radical with Patsy and I want you to help me.”
    “Radical? You mean commit her?”
    “No, that’d be the worst thing for her. When patients are going through times like this you can’t coddle them. You have to be tough. And force them to be tough.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Don’t be antagonistic but force her to stay involved in life. She’s going to want to withdraw—tobe pampered. But don’t spoil her. If she says she’s too upset to go shopping or go out to dinner, don’t let her get away with it. Insist that she does what she’s supposed to do.”
    “You’re sure that’s best?”
    Sure? Harry asked himself. No, he wasn’t the least bit sure. But he’d made his decision. He had to push Patsy hard. He told Peter, “We don’t have any choice.”
    But after the man left the office Harry happened to recall an expression one of his medical school professors had used frequently. He’d said you have to attack disease head-on. “You have to kill or cure.”
    Harry hadn’t thought of that expression in years. He wished he hadn’t today.

    The next day Patsy walked into his office without an appointment.
    In Brooklyn, at the clinic, this was standard procedure and nobody thought anything of it. But in a Park Avenue shrink’s office impromptu sessions were taboo. Still, Harry could see from her face that she was very upset and he didn’t make an issue of her unexpected appearance.
    She collapsed on the couch and hugged herself closely as he rose and closed the door.
    “Patsy, what’s the matter?” he asked.
    He noticed that her clothes were more disheveled than he’d ever seen. They were stained and torn. Hair bedraggled. Fingernails dirty.
    “Everything was going so well,” she sobbed, “then I was sitting in the den early this morning and Iheard my father’s ghost again. He said, ‘They’re almost here. You don’t have much time left. . . . ’ And I asked, ‘What do you mean?’ And he said, ‘Look in the living room.’ And I did and there was another one of my birds! It was shattered!” She opened her purse and showed Harry the broken pieces of ceramic. “Now, there’s only one left! I’m going to die when it breaks. I know I am. Peter’s going to break it tonight! And then he’ll kill me.”
    “He’s not going to kill you, Patsy,” Harry said calmly, patiently ignoring her hysteria.
    “I think I should go to the hospital for a while, Doctor.”
    Harry got up and sat on the couch next to her. He took her hand. “No.”
    “What?”
    “It would be a mistake,” Harry said.
    “Why?” she cried.
    “Because you can’t hide from these issues. You have to confront them.”
    “I’d feel safer in a hospital. Nobody’d try to kill me in the hospital.”
    “Nobody’s going to kill you, Patsy. You have to believe me.”
    “No! Peter—”
    “But Peter’s never tried to hurt you, has he?”
    A pause. “No.”
    “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Listen to me. Are you listening?”
    “Yes.”
    “You know that whether Peter was pretending to