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Designed Intent

Chapter 26

Monday Afternoon

"Mrs. Goren, tell me about this little boy who has been visiting you." Dr. Shinto wanted to find out what he could about this latest hallucination. He wanted to analyze its significance, perhaps learn the root of its inception. "Mrs. Goren?"

Frances Goren sat in her chair in her room. It was raining outside. Frances did not like the rain; she found it depressing. Sylvia, her bi-polar roommate, found that hysterical, sad on a rainy day! Ha! No one else really saw the humor in that.

"Mrs. Goren, do you know who this little boy is?"

She looked over at the middle-aged man. "He's my grandson," she whispered.

"How old is he?"

She leaned in and whispered, "I'm not sure. I think he's three or four years old."

"What is his name?"

"His name is Chris Tian. That's a good name, isn't it? It almost sounds like 'Christian,' doesn't it? I like that name."

Dr. Shinto thought a moment. "You say Christian is your grandson. Is he Bobby's son or Frank's son?" He watched the older woman process this. She leaned her head to the left and her right hand massaged her left. She looked away. Then she shifted in her chair. Dr. Shinto gauged the anxiety level in his patient. This seemed to be a tough question. But why was it tough?

"Mrs. Goren?"

"Uhm, uh, he, Christian, he said, he told me, uh, he said that my son Bobby is his daddy and that Gleason is his mommy." There, she said it.

"Does Bobby have a son?" Dr. Shinto knew her younger son did not have a child, but he wanted to measure the woman's link to reality.

"Oh, no, I don't think he ever will. No, not my Bobby, I think he is afraid of having one turn out his mom. Frank may have a few strays out there somewhere, but I doubt he even knows about them. Poor kids." She shook her head and tsk-tsk-ed.

"When did Christian first come to you?"

Frances thought a minute and then replied, "I saw him standing off by himself in the common room. He was looking out the window, like he was watching for someone."

"When was this?"

"Uhm, uh, I, can't remember exactly, a few months ago." She hesitated and her voice softened, she gave the doctor a sidelong look just like Bobby would do. She asked, "Dr. Shinto, this, this little boy, my grandson, Christian, he's, he's not real, is he? He's in my head like the others." Frances Goren looked over the kind Japanese man.

"What do you think, Frances?"

She looked down at her hands. "I want him to be real. I love that little boy. He loves me. I want Bobby and Gleason to meet him." Mrs. Goren was quiet a few moments. "He knows Bobby and Gleason. He says they are his mommy and daddy." She was quiet a few more minutes. Dr. Shinto said nothing. He wanted to watch her process, consider. Her concentration was deep.

Then, she looked up, leaned her head to the left, and said, "No, he is real, he is real. Christian is my grandson. He is. He is Bobby's son. Gleason is his mother. He is real, Dr. Shinto, he is real! He is. You should meet him. Christian! Where are you, Sweet Pea?" Christian, come see Gramma. Christian?" Frances Goren struggled to her feet and her anxiety shot through the roof.

Dr. Shinto was on his feet, "Frances, Frances calm down. Mrs. Goren, sit down now. Come now; sit down in your chair."

Bobby's mother pushed away from the good doctor, calling for her grandson, her voice loud, frantic, "Christian! Come here; come see Gramma. Christian? Bobby? Bobby where are you? Where is Christian? Bobby! Gleason! Help, help me!" She was hysterical.

"Nurse! I need help in here! Mrs. Goren, please . . ."

"Bobby! Bobby! Gleason! Help! Help me!" As frail as she was, Bobby's mother began swing at the doctor, she began to cry, she sobbed, and she choked and coughed.

"Nurse!"

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"Goren."

"Mr. Goren, this is Dr. Shinto."

"Is my mother all right?"

"She has had an episode. We have had to sedate her. Is it possible to make an appointment to speak with you sometime soon?"

Bobby rubbed his forehead with the fingers of his right hand. "What happened?"

"Please, Detective, it would be better for us to speak in person. Can you come today or tomorrow sometime?"

Bobby saw red; he felt his heart beat in his ears. Breathe, he told himself, calm down. He took a few deep breaths and then said steadily, "Dr. Shinto I want to know what happened. What kind of episode was it?"

Dr. Shinto did not like to discuss particulars on the phone. However, this man was not going to cooperate until he got some information. "All right, I will tell you this. I was speaking with your mother this afternoon about the new hallucination, the boy. She was calm and conversational until she asked me if the little boy was real; specifically, she asked if the child was another hallucination. Her considering the possibility that the child may just be another hallucination is a major breakthrough. It indicates that her self-awareness is increasing. That realization signifies that her understanding of the multi-dimensional aspect of reality is broadening.

"However, the breakthrough devolved into a break. She recanted the possibility of the boy being in her mind and escalated into the antithesis – that the little boy is real. Within seconds, her anxiety soared and she became hysterical. She was out of control and we had to sedate her."

Bobby felt sick to his stomach, his gut burned. His head began to pound. "Did you have to restrain her?" he asked softly. He absolutely hated when they bound her arms and legs to her bed. He had seen too many evil pieces of shit shackled and he did not want his mother to share the same shame.

"No, Detective, the medication worked quickly. She is still sleeping and will do so for another twelve hours or so."

Christ, he thought, when she does wake up, it will be three to five days before the effects of the drug are completely out of her system. She will be lethargic, unresponsive – a zombie.

"I can be there tomorrow afternoon, about five. Is that time good for you?"

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Christian stood beside his Gramma's bed and looked at her. She is sleeping, he thought. "Gramma? Gramma," he whispered. She could not hear him. The medicine made her go to sleep. It made her sleep sticky and thick so that he could not pop into her dreams. He watched her eyes dart under her lids.

Christian sighed and sat down on the floor. Then he stretched out and looked at the ceiling. He rolled onto his side and looked under Gramma's bed – nothing there. He put his foot into her slipper; it felt funny.

This is no fun, he thought. He stood up, looked at his Gramma as she continued to sleep, and walked down the hall to the common room. He went to the window and looked out, watching for his mommy and daddy. He was worried about his mommy and daddy; they were so sad and afraid.

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Monday Evening

Gleason had gone straight to bed when she returned to her apartment from O'Hare yesterday. She thought about calling Bobby, she had said she would; but she didn't.

She was at her office early this morning and had gotten an enormous amount of work done. After a quick lunch at Windy City, she returned to her office. Malcolm was nowhere to be found.

Bobby had not called her. She wondered if it was finally over.

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