Chapter Eight

Erascus

Jacqueline stretched a bit trying to get comfortable and fell off the couch, grumbling and putting her pillow over her head.

"Come on, wake up. Breakfast is almost ready. Don't forget you have an appointment today," Mark said from the kitchen.

"How can I forget?" Jacqueline mumbled sitting up. "Can't we postpone it just this once?"

"Come on, Jackie, it can't be so bad as all that," Mark sighed, pouring them some coffee. "What's an hour a week with someone who's only trying to help you?"

"Can't we find someone else to help me?" Jacqueline said. "There are tons of different psychiatrists in this town. It's obvious that I'm not making any progress with this one," she said, getting up and going over to the bar. "All he does is sit there, asks me a lot of odd questions, and then hands me pills. Sometimes I get the feeling he doesn't want me to get better. Something in the way he looks at me."

"Look," Mark sighed, coming around to the other side and putting his hands on her shoulders. "If it'll make you feel better, I'll stay home today."

"No, that's all right," Jacqueline said quickly. "You go on. I can deal with Dr. Erascus."

"You're sure," Mark said, getting her to look in his blue eyes.

"I'm sure," Jacqueline said with a smile, manage to wriggle away on the pretense of eating her breakfast. "You know, I've been thinking…"

"Oh, no, here it comes," Mark chuckled, shaking his head and putting on his suit jacket.

"It's about getting a job. A local one," Jacqueline insisted as he began to shake his head.

"Jacqueline, you know what Erascus said about you staying in the neighborhood. If you go too far, you'll get disoriented and we'll have to come find you. Remember that time you tried to find the library and you got confused trying to catch a bus?"

"The café across the street is looking for help. It says no experience required, just someone who can speak English," Jacqueline said. "I'm not going to get lost on the way across the street, and it's not as if Doctor Erascus doesn't live next door. Come on, Mark! I'm going stir crazy here, I just don't feel like I have enough to do."

"Watch T.V.?"

"I hate T.V." Jacqueline sighed.

"Surf the net?"

"Mark!"

"All right, all right. Why don't you ask him, then?" Mark said.

"Why don't I apply first and then ask him," Jacqueline suggested brightly.

"I'm going to work," Mark sighed, kissing her on the forehead. "Please, do me a favor and don't tick off your psychiatrist this week?" he pleaded, heading out the door.

Jacqueline waited a few minutes by the door. Then she walked over to the window, leaning to see past the edge of the balcony until she saw Mark disappear around the corner. Finally!

She exhaled in relief, wondering not for the first time what she might have seen in that guy when she had her memories. Dumping the breakfast he'd made down the drain and pouring out the coffee, she quickly threw on a green dress she had managed to find that she actually liked and fit her (there had been three sizes in her closet, and she wondered if she hadn't gone on a diet on some point) then hurried down the stairs. The first stop was the corner grocery and deli, immediately heading over to the newsstand upon entering. A rather portly elderly man with thin white hair and a pleasant face greeted her warmly.

"You are out early today," Isaac said, leaning on the counter. "But I'm glad, for I have something for you!"

"Really?" Jacqueline said brightly. "Any new books?"

"Better than new books," Isaac said with a wide smile, taking out a glass jar from under the cabinet. "Fresh from Pennsylvania, one of their first shipments this fall, as I understand, although I'm sure they were slightly surprised to have an order from a New York Deli, kosher product or not," he winked. "But you have been driving me crazy about it all summer, and I thought it might cheer you up."

"Pumpkin Butter!" Jacqueline said enthusiastically, giving the flustered grocer a hug. "I can't believe you found it! I've been craving this for weeks now. How much do we owe you?"

"No, no. You can have that one for free," he insisted. "I got a case, so when you need some more, you can buy it from me then," he said. "It's all natural too. Perhaps I'll put one or two on the shelf and see what others think, yes?"

"Thank you, you've made my day already," Jacqueline grinned, gratefully taking the bag and waving to him as she went a couple doors down. At Kingler's Café, she was greeted by the older couple standing behind the burger bar; the woman filling napkins stopping to lean on it a moment.

"So? Any verdict yet?" Sally asked hopefully.

"He told me to ask Erascus," Jacqueline said, immediately earning a groan from Sally.

"Why do you let them order you around like that?" Rob asked from where he stood by the kitchen door.

"You know why," Jacqueline sighed, sitting down at the bar as Sally poured her a cup of coffee. "Because for some unknown reason, I lost my memory and therefore 'need strict supervision as I am not yet capable of taking care of myself.'"

"Now that's a load of crap," Rob said. "If you ask me, that psychiatrist of yours needs a psychiatrist of his own." Jacqueline couldn't help but grin at that. "All you need is to be independent of that day trader of yours and let your memories return on their own."

"He's a trader assistant."

"Whatever," he said, heading over to talk to another customer that had just come in.

"You know, it's been hard. He's done so much for me and yet…" Jacqueline stopped and shook her head.

"Then maybe this memory loss is a good thing," Sally said. "It sounds to me that you and him wasn't meant to be at all, and maybe you just didn't see it before."

"Maybe," Jacqueline murmured, sipping her coffee.

"Look, take the job. We could use the help. And if Erascus gives you any trouble about it, take it to court. There's got to be something you can do, you have rights, you know, memory or not. You know Rob and I will stand up for you."

"Thanks, Sally," Jacqueline sighed. "I think without you guys and Isaac being here, maybe I would be going nuts."

"Nah, not you. Memory or not, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders," Sally said. "Forget about what they think. You're not in love with Mark. Anyone seeing the two of you together can tell that. And you hate Doctor Erascus, right? So why do you want to take advice from someone who you hate?"

"You need advice? That's easy. Lose the shrink," Rob said on his way back to the kitchen. "If you really think you need one, at least get one that doesn't make everyone's skin crawl when he walks into the room."

"Speaking of evil incarnate, look out. Here he comes now," Sally said, all three of them glancing up as Doctor Erascus came in, dressed in his typical three piece suit and black trench coat, immediately making eye contact with Jacqueline at the bar. Rob and Sally greeted him politely as he went over to Jacqueline's seat, looking at her curiously.

"Out early, I see," he said thoughtfully. "Did you recall that we had an appointment today?"

"Yes, that's why I'm out early, so I can get a few errands done. I wanted to see if Isaac had any new books," Jacqueline said. Erascus nodded thoughtfully.

"Perhaps you should consider enlisting in a book club through the mail? That way you can have a greater selection and not even have to leave the apartment," he suggested.

"No, that's all right," Jacqueline said, getting up and looking over at Sally, who was giving her a sideways glance from where she was filling napkins. "It gives me a reason to get out of there every now and then. Which reminds me of something I wanted to talk to you about," she added, feeling a bit surer of herself knowing that her friends were watching. "I'd like to take a job here." Erascus stared at her in surprise.

"A job? Here?" his lip twitched in a manner that told Jacqueline just how little he liked the idea.

"It'd only be a few hours in the afternoon and evening to help with the dinner rush," Jacqueline said. "It'd get me out of the apartment, and I can actually have my own spending money."

"It doesn't appear to me as if you have any lack of spending money," Erascus said, glancing at the bag in her hand. "Doesn't Mark give you an allowance to buy… what is that, anyhow?"

"You're missing the point," Jacqueline said, clutching the bag tighter. "I want to earn my own money. Whether or not I remember anything past a few months ago, I think I have proven that I can take care of myself to some extent, or you wouldn't have approved Mark going back to work."

"A decision that I still debate to myself on whether you were ready for or not," he said, "Especially considering this sudden aggressive behavior you're exhibiting. May I see the bag?"

"If you were cooped up in a one bedroom apartment as much as I've been, you would be aggravated too," Jacqueline said. "I don't want to be in a box all of my life."

"You're very lucky you have Mark to look after you. You might have been institutionalized, and then you really would have been in a box," he reminded her.

"An institution whose main goal is to work to get their patients to the point they can function in normal society without endangering themselves or others," Jacqueline said. "At least from what I've been reading."

"Their main goal is to protect society from their patients," Erascus said bluntly. "And you shouldn't believe everything you read in magazines. Magazines are nothing but a publisher up-selling their advertisements while the people writing the articles are attempting to up-sell themselves. And what exactly is it that you expect to be doing in this… establishment?"

"Taking customer orders, pouring coffee, cleaning counters… what do you care as long as I'm within an arm's reach? Mr. Kingler and his wife both know my situation. It's not as if I'm 'unsupervised' in any way."

"The Kinglers are hardly trained psychiatrists."

"Neither is Mark, and yet you seemed to be okay with him supervising me those first few weeks."

"That is different. We are referring to strangers now."

"They're less strangers to me than Mark," Jacqueline snapped, instantly regretting saying that out loud. Erascus stared at her.

"I think it's time we had our chat," Erascus said coolly. "Shall we head to my office?" Feeling a bit deflated, Jacqueline sighed and nodded, glancing back at Sally and Rob who were both standing at the counter now.

"See you at four o'clock, Jacqueline. Actually, could you come a few minutes early so I can show you how to use the time card and all?" Sally asked. "You might want to leave Mark a note that you'll be off at about nine. Is that all right?"

"I don't recall telling you that she had my permission to work here," Erascus said with alarm.

"Probably because we didn't ask it," Rob said. "From what I understand, Jacqueline is not under any court order giving you the sort of legal power needed to stop it. I expect that if it went to courts, she could prove easily enough she's capable of working. So unless you want to take this to another level, Doctor, I suggest you give the girl a break and let her learn how to make a living."

"Very well, but I warn you," Erascus began, his face darkening as he turned to look in Rob's direction, "that I will be watching, and I will not tolerate anyone who dares to try to take advantage of my patient's situation. Is that clear?"

"Oh, yeah, I'd definitely say things are clear," Rob said, bristling.

"Good," Erascus said, turning to look back at Jacqueline. Jacqueline knew better than to risk a smile. Instead she quickly hurried out the door, slipping into the next building where Erascus kept a modest office just behind a dentist's suite.

It was always empty, but then he always made her appointments for lunchtime when even his receptionist was away from the desk. Jacqueline found herself wishing that she could have stopped at home to drop off her bag, although she wasn't quite sure why she didn't want to show it to him. Rather silly, she thought. But then why did he want to see in the first place? Wasn't that just as odd? Deciding once and for all that she wasn't in the mood to humor him, she waited until his back was turned to open the door and quickly slipped the bag under the receptionist's desk before following him in.

"So tell me, how are things between you and Mark?" Erascus asked, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"Fine," Jacqueline said absently.

"Odd, from your comment in the café, I got the impression that things weren't as 'fine' as you seem to indicate. Have you been quarreling?"

"No, he never quarrels with me," Jacqueline sighed.

"Do you spend much time talking things over? Your past, your relationship?"

"He talks. It's not like I have much to add to the conversation, considering I don't remember a thing about what he's talking about."

"Very well then, let's not talk about what you remember. Let's talk about what you know. Tell me about yourself," Erascus said, leaning back thoughtfully.

"I grew up an only child on a farm in Connecticut. My parents died from a car accident and left the farm in debt so I sold it and moved to get a job. I had a job for a short time at a chemical distributor outside of Queens, only I got laid off and moved in with Mark, whom supposedly I met at the café next to us, although Sally doesn't remember ever seeing me in there before the accident."

"Before the accident, Jacqueline, you wouldn't have considered spending much time in such a dive," Erascus said.

"But I must have at one point, since I met Mark there. Only he doesn't seem to go there much either. Sally says he never talked much. She recognized him right away." Jacqueline said.

"You are attempting to change the subject again," Erascus said impatiently. "You were going to tell me how you felt about Mark."

"I thought we were talking about what I know," Jacqueline reminded him.

"I think I should alter your prescription a bit. It seems to me that you're a bit over stimulated," Erascus frowned, writing himself a note.

"Why don't I just stop taking them then?" Jacqueline suggested, attempting to ignore the chill that hit her when he eyed her again.

"Perhaps I've been much too lenient with you. I think I'll ask Mark to stay home for a few days and make sure you haven't slipped from your routines…"

"No, no, it's quite all right. I was merely joking," Jacqueline said. "I just don't see that the pills are doing anything productive, is all."

"Can we get back to why it is you don't like Mark?" Erascus asked, folding his fingers together.

"Oh, I do like Mark, actually," Jacqueline assured him. "He's a nice guy, and he's been really good about the whole memory thing, it's just that he lacks… well I mean to say he seems to lack… well, maybe he just lacks. Maybe he's just too… nice. And unless you want to talk to him about how the stock market is doing or what's on T.V. tomorrow night, there's not really much to talk about. Well, short of him attempting bringing up good times we've had that I have no memory of, or can even imagine myself doing now."

"Perhaps we're going about this the wrong way," Erascus mused, writing another note down. "Perhaps the two of you need to get out and do more things together such as go to the Cineplex, or perhaps see some shows, dinner, or that sort of thing, so you can both discover what hidden interests you have together." Jacqueline looked at Erascus dubiously. He pulled out a drawer and took out two fresh pill bottles and set them on his desk. "I will discuss it with him later this evening. Don't forget your medicine, please."

Jacqueline took them and nodded to him, unable to bring herself to thank him as she got up. The last thing she wanted to do was spend any more time with Mark than she already had to. She sighed with frustration, glancing at the pills before putting them in her pockets as she left the building. At least he was going to let her work. Smiling at that small victory, Jacqueline decided to head home and get ready for her first day.

Doctor Erascus watched her leave from the door of his office then got ready to head up to his room. But as he was about to shut it, he suddenly spied the bag behind the corner of the reception desk and picked it up, uncovering the glass jar to read it. He stared at it for a long time before the jar shattered in his hand.