The Cartagena Connection, page 3
Wringing her hands, she went into her study, threw herself down on the daybed, and wrapped herself in a tattered comforter that she’d had since childhood. Ricky thought the condo was hers. Late last night he talked about how spacious it was, almost as big as his mother’s whole house. “There’s even an extra bedroom, filled with books and file cabinets and stuff,” he gloated. They could clear all that away – put it in storage maybe -- now that Kate was about to graduate.
Ricky reminded Kate that his brother (the drug dealer, Kate editorialized mentally) together with wife and four kids lived in his mother’s house. Ricky went on to describe his little sister Josie, now sixteen. Josie had been doing well in her neighborhood high school, one of the worst in New Haven, getting good grades and keeping herself out of trouble. There’d be more room for Josie in his mother’s place now that Ricky had moved out, but there was another sister, Julie, who was a bit of a mess (that one’s the prostitute thought Kate). Julie met her ‘clients’ elsewhere, but she came back to her mother’s house pretty regularly. Josie was a tough kid who could fight her own battles and she had a part-time job, but she really shouldn’t have to live in that house.
Ricky had enthused about how their condo had plenty of space. They could clear out that extra bedroom of all those books and papers and junk, and move Josie in. It would solve so many problems.
Clutching her blanket tightly around her Kate found she couldn’t get past Ricky’s calling it ‘their condo.’ Oh my God – he meant hers AND his. She was waking up to the fact that she and Ricky were married. Share and share alike. But Ricky didn’t know that she didn’t have very much. All she owned were her clothes, books, a desk and some file cabinets. Sure, she drove a brand-new Audi convertible, but that came with large monthly payments. Her 529 trust was exhausted, and even if it hadn’t been, she couldn’t use it for anything except education. Technically, since once she’d graduated, she couldn’t continue to use it to cover the rent on her condo. She thought for a few seconds: That last item wasn’t exactly true.
Anna had transferred a whole year’s rent, some $57,600, from Kate’s trust to herself back in January. She’d expected to continue to live in it until December and use the next several months to prepare to take her Law Board exams, needed for licensure. For Ricky to live in it with her would require Anna to approve. She had been hired to work as an associate at a law firm in Stamford on what was essentially an internship – decent money, but like the condo, only guaranteed to last until December.
Her panic began to subside. Ricky would be working, although he’d warned her that he would need to continue to support his mother financially. Her Aunt Patsy would probably help – once she got over being annoyed at the quick wedding. Her parents might kick in, although she wasn’t sure of that. They were strapped themselves. Her Uncle Fred had always come through, although Anna (Kate refused to think of the Judge’s trophy second wife as her aunt) would almost certainly object.
Kate sighed. So many people had told her ‘Marry in haste, repent in leisure.’ “But Ricky and I love each other. We’re young, healthy and the world will be our oyster. We just need to get through a few tough months.”
Time to wake up Ricky, get dressed and get on with the business of married life. And time to have a tough talk with her new husband. He had to be made to understand: 1) her study is NOT a guest a room; 2) the books and files are essential because she HAS to pass the Bar Exam; and 3) Josie is NOT moving in. She paused in her planning. The study was the easy part. How was she going to tell him that the condo isn’t hers, her trust fund has no money left; her Audi comes with large car payments; and right now, they’re on track to be homeless by the end of the year. This was proving to be a ‘challenging’ start to married life....
After some dithering about on Kate’s part, and some moves – like always sneaking in through the garage rather than using the main entrance – Ricky began to suspect that Kate didn’t quite see things the way he did. She seemed to forget that she was his wife! By the end of the second week, Ricky’s temper got the best of him and they’d had their first real fight. The cause was Josie’s future.
Josie, desperate to get away from home, was threatening to drop out of high school and move to New York, where she was sure she could find a great job and make lots of money. Ricky was appalled and wanted to kidnap her and move her in with them. He figured he could accomplish that in one day. Just pack up Kate’s junk, put it down in Kate’s storage area that came with the condo, head to Goodwill, or the Salvation Army to get a bed for Josie and they’d be all set. Could be accomplished in a weekend. Problem solved.
Kate tried to get Ricky off the topic. She reminded him that they were both in school, and she as in the midst of very tough final exams. Didn’t he want her to graduate? She couldn’t possibly deal with this right now. That, and some tears, bought her another week, but now her exams were nearly over. She was headed to graduation. Ricky was sick of sneaking around, of not being introduced to any of the neighbors, his name not even on the mailbox. The Josie problem was getting more and more urgent. In Ricky’s mind, Kate was acting like an overprivileged bitch.
Kate faced facts, did what she’d been dreading, and told Ricky the whole story. With many protestations that she’d never intended to mislead him, that he just made assumptions.... Ricky had become very quiet at that, then left the condo. While Kate paced and cried and wondered whether her brief marriage was over, Ricky sought advice from a builder he’d done some construction work for. He laid out the whole story, including the $57,600 annual rent.
The builder happened to know a good deal about the conversion from faculty apartments to privately owned condos. In particular, he knew that the condos had been constructed to house four students, EACH paying $1,200 a month rent. Kate, or rather Kate’s trust, had been covering the whole $4,800 a month freight in advance, and the Judge had been paying himself. Hmm, the IRS might have something to say about that.
“You say that your wife didn’t realize it?”
“No. My wife is brilliant, but she’s never had to think about money,” Ricky said. “I’ve had to count pennies, return soda bottles for the deposit, and hunt for loose change anywhere it might be found all my life.”
“She’s lucky to have you. The way I see it, there’s a lot of loose change here. And you say it’s a federal judge who’s been ripping her off?”
“Kate doesn’t think the Judge even knows about it. She’s pretty sure it’s his second wife Anna. Anna hates Kate, and would love to screw her...”
“They live in Baltimore, you say? If I were you, I’d grab that wife of yours, plunk her into that expensive Audi and head down 95, cross the GW Bridge and hit the turnpike today. I wouldn’t waste another minute.”
Ricky had done just that, which was why what could have been a lovely ride, in a brand-new Audi convertible, with the top down and the weather cooperating, had turned into a painful excursion with Kate apprehensive, Ricky stone-faced and both stubbornly silent.
CHAPTER FOUR
Monday May 1: 11:00 am
“Hoo Boy, you have got to be out of your mind,” Liz Maguire exploded. With her green eyes shooting daggers, the Department of Psychiatry’s newest hire continued, “Dave, or do I have to say Dr. Meyers, chief honcho, grand poobah, what do you mean that I have a new female client, but you can’t tell me anything else about that until I agree.. Don’t I get a say in that? Who the hell is she?”
“Patience, patience, all will be explained in due time, and of course if you don’t want to work with her or she with you.... Look, I know you’ve only recently come on board, but this is counseling for a couple who are trying to decide whether to divorce. The man came to see me this morning; he’s a long-time colleague... I need a partner for this, and I immediately thought of you. After all your calendar is pretty empty....
“This is crazier and crazier. You and I barely know one another...” Liz had been hired only about three months earlier, and was the newest professional hire in the department.
“I know enough to feel that we’d be able to work together. You’re a single mom – early thirties, right, two kids, raging feminist...” Dave grinned at the last comment.
Liz started to say that she wasn’t a single mom, and she was still in her twenties, although she would turn thirty in a few weeks. She lived in Baltimore with her kids, and her husband lived in DC, but they were still married. Given their fight this past weekend, she wondered for how long, but she didn’t feel like commenting on that. It was nearly lunchtime and she was starving.
“And you’re a sixty-something chauvinist who thinks he’s Yoda, but runs the department like a conniving Darth Vader. Besides, it’s well-known here that you hate...”
Dave interrupted her tirade. “Sixty-something Darth Vader. Who’ve you been listening to? Everybody knows I’m a teddy bear. And I’m only 58!”
“I was being polite. I thought you were at least 75. But is it or is it not the fact that you don’t do ‘couples counseling? Something about a lucky jockstrap?”
“The famous jockstrap. I’ll tell you about that, but not right now. I will say that you did have it right that I don’t do ‘couples counseling’. In fact, I don’t do much work with neurotics anymore. I leave that to the social workers and the younger docs.”
Liz bristled. “So, you consider ‘divorcing couples’ to be neurotic?” After her fight last night, if she divorced Luis it would be to keep her sanity. “Aren’t you divorced?”
“Yep, and I’m also neurotic. You probably have to be to work here. You heard right. I like working with schizo’s and borderline psychotics. I especially like working with the neuroscientists on the fundamental causes of mental illness. But this is a special case.”
“Are you planning to tell me anything more before I get to decide?”
“If you promise there’s no gossip, whatever you decide. I mean it. Consider this a triple HIPPA situation.”
“Do tell...”
“The client is a colleague. He’s the chair of surgery...”
“You mean...’
“Exactly. Dr. Bruce Gittings Howard in the flesh.”
“But he’s....”
“Got that in one. He’s our worst enemy on the Council of Clinical Chiefs. We cost too much, we don’t pull our financial weight, we may be doing ‘important’ – in quotes – research, but our NIH funding isn’t anything like what his department gets...”
“So why are we taking him on?”
“Simple. He asked for help and there’s the Hippocratic Oath...”
“Give me a break. Did he really ask for help? And if he did, why didn’t you refer him to another practice – one that specializes in ‘neurotic’ divorce seekers?”
“I believe in keeping friends close and enemies closer...” Dave paused and stroked his chin. “I think we can win him over-- love him into his possibilities. Seriously I’ve gotten to know him on this neuroscience project. He’s as intrigued as I am. Unlike me, he’s even throwing money at it....”
“Now I get it. You’re playing Yoda with a Darth Vader undertone.
“Our joint interest in neuro makes working together on his marriage a lot easier to hide from the campus Yentas.... And that brings me to his wife. Dr. Patricia Howard. She’s a DSW not an MD. I think she’s had some history with the social work school over at the UM. She doesn’t use ‘Howard’ by the way. She uses her maiden name of Murphy.”
“Oh my God. You don’t mean ‘Patsy Murphy’, the chair of the Governor’s Council on Drugs and the Family. She’s also on the state social services board, the Children’s Aid Society, and I don’t know what else. She’s the scourge of all the children’s protective services departments across the tri-state region. But she’s famous! And she’s everywhere. I’m pretty sure she’s on a presidential commission, or would be if the Democrats were still in power. And she’s even a ‘Big Catholic’ although word is that the Baltimore Archdiocese loathes her given the priest pedophile scandal....” Liz started shaking. “You seriously expect... She’d never work with me.... I’m not at all comfortable with this...”
“Ah Liz, time to leave the Ivory Tower and graduate into the real world of money and political influence. I think you’ll be exactly the right person for the job. Complete privacy shouldn’t be a problem. The excuse could be she’s bringing you on to one of her child welfare projects...” Dave continued, “I’ve saved the best part for last. Bruce has already agreed that Psych gets Surgery’s old furniture when they more to their new digs in the Tower. I’m holding out for getting their old space. as well.” Dave grimaced. “I should warn you that there is a fly in the ointment known as Anna-the-interior-decorator. She’s driving him crazy overseeing Surgery’s move, and since she has some family connection Bruce feels he can’t fire her.”
“You mean we get to deal with her, too? Great...”
“Hey, dealing with difficult people is what we do....”
“You’ve convinced me. I’m leaving the Ivory Tower, it’s Graduation Day, cue up ‘Pomp and Circumstance.’ I’ll set up a meeting with the Mrs. Dr. Howard AKA Patsy Murphy, but I warn you that she may not want to work with me...”
“It’s already on your calendar. We’re meeting the two Drs. Howard tomorrow at noon over in Bruce Howard’s private conference room. He’s providing lunch. And wait until you see that conference room. And his office.... Fabulous…."
Liz shook her head. “I don’t believe this is happening."
Liz headed to her office, sat down, hunted in vain for the peanut butter sandwich she was sure she’d stowed in it, and picked up the phone. “Hi, Angela, it’s Liz. I just left Dr. Meyers office, but I forgot to tell him something. Could you have him call me ASAP.”
Liz continued to scrabble in her bag getting more and more upset. After what felt like an hour, but was probably only about ten minutes, her phone rang. “Dave, I’m freaked out about tomorrow. The more I think about coming into Dr. Howard’s conference room to pretend to have lunch with him and his wife when all the time we’re having the initial meeting for divorce counseling....” Liz gasped for breath, “Dave, you have to know this makes no sense. I have no idea what we’re doing. I haven’t met either of them, Patsy scares the hell out of me, and I’m supposed to be her advocate?”
“Liz, Liz, Liz, don’t worry your...”
“Dave, if you say ‘pretty little head’ I’m going to storm your office, get through your secretarial barricade, and punch you in the eye!’
“Phew, temper, temper,"Dave laughed which only made Liz angrier.
“I am absolutely serious! Expect me in five minutes...”
“I’m not in my office. I’m over in the Dean’s suite in a budget pre-meeting with several clinical chiefs. Are you sure you want to come over here?”
Liz slammed her phone down on her desk and let out of string of curses. She picked up the phone, shook it to see if it was still working, “When can we talk?”
“How about I meet you in my office tomorrow around 11:45 and we walk over to Bruce’s office together. I’m totally tied up before then. I swear to you. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re in your office right now? That’s great. I need you to do something for me.”
What now, Liz thought. Doesn’t the man remember that I too have clients – clients with real problems like the homeless addicts I saw in the auxiliary parking lot this morning? She didn’t say anything.
Dave let the silence build, then winced. Anna-the-decorator. He’d promised Bruce that the Department of Psychiatry would babysit her that afternoon. He’d originally thought of giving that job to Angela, his secretary from hell, but then realized that was a bad mistake. Angela would annoy the hell out of Anna, and that would have repercussions with Bruce. He needed Bruce on his side, so he thought of Liz. She’d be a great Anna-whisperer.
“I almost forgot. I mentioned that Anna Murphy, Bruce Howard’s sister-in-law is coming over to look at our space. I had planned to meet with her, but I really can’t take time out from this meeting to give her the grand tour. The Chiefs of Pediatrics and ObGYn are here with me. We’re discussing budget strategy before our ‘Come to Jesus’ meeting with the Dean and the other clinical chiefs later this week. Dave sighed. “I know I’m putting a lot on you, but the stakes are large. I’ll make it up to you...”
Liz slammed the phone down again and began to pace. He really is the limit, she thought. Bad enough that he has me in this cockamamie counseling thing. Now I’m supposed to play tour guide to this strange woman. She thought for a minute, picked up the phone for a second time and said, “I’ll do it, but you owe me big time, and I intend to collect.”
“Anything in my power dear...’
“Don’t you ‘dear’ me. I know what I want. A parking space in the gated lot right near our building. I am sick and tired of having to park in that auxiliary lot under the Jones Falls Expressway. It’s muddy, dangerous and miles from campus. The homeless encampment nearby is scary, particularly at night, and the shuttle to our building is like the ‘animals bus ride' – it comes when it comes and it goes when it goes’.”
“I get the picture, and that I can do. Your pass will be waiting for you when you come back from the tour with Anna. I have to warn you. It will cost you $200 a month.”
Liz thought of how financially stretched she was already, but decided the parking pass was worth it. She’d find some other place to economize. “I’ll take it.”
Dave offered a sweetener. “You know, when you partner with me in seeing clients, I can put you on the department’s clinical payroll. That way you keep your university salary, but you also get a second salary from the practice plan based on what you earn there. I can’t promise, but you should be able to cover the parking fee. In fact, why don’t I set it up that way and have the practice plan just cover your parking directly as a fringe benefit. That way no tax on those dollars.”
