Mortal Friends by James Carroll

Author:James Carroll
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackstone Publishing
Published: 2022-08-26T21:58:13+00:00

5

“I know who you are.”

“I can’t imagine that you do.”

“You’re her friend. So am I. I’m Ruth Koch. Nice to meet you, Mr. Brady.”

“Are you her doctor?”

“You didn’t expect a woman?”

“Well, I . . .”

“Or a Jew, either?”

“I was under the impression this is a very . . . how should I say it?”

“Swish?”

“No. WASPish. A very WASPish place.”

“It is.”

“I might have known. Italian gardeners. Irish maids. Jewish psychiatrists.”

“And Cuban tennis instructors.”

“He’s quite good, isn’t he?”

“So is Madeline. Watch her serve.”

“She seems very well.”

“She is. She’s off to an excellent start. Does she know you’re here?”

“No.”

“May I tell you something, Mr. Brady? You’re very good for her. She’s taken hold of herself in part because of you.”

“How much longer do you think she’ll be here?”

“Oh, a while yet. We mustn’t rush it. Our guests are here typically a year or more. Madeline was here twice before, but she didn’t stay with it. She wasn’t ready.”

“I know how much she had been wanting to come here. It took her a long time to feel strong enough, I think. She’s not seriously . . . ? I don’t know how to ask it.”

“Ill?” Doctor Koch smiled. “Who isn’t? Madeline’s illness takes the form of a chemical addiction that’s very hard to break. We do some of the best treatment in the country here, Mr. Brady, and I think you’ll sense the difference as time goes along. I think she’s on the right road now, and, as I said, that’s partly due to you.”

“She’s a fiery woman, doctor. Hard to keep up with.”

“She’s had her outbursts with you, hasn’t she?”

Brady smiled. God, had she, right from the beginning when she’d nearly taken his thumb off.

“What she needed,” the doctor continued, “was someone strong enough to teach her that her expressions of her feelings would not be damaging, even if they were negative ones. She had to have a way to get those feelings out instead of turning them against herself in self-destructive behavior. She’s in your debt, Mr. Brady.”

“Has her husband been here?”

“No.”

“Do you expect him?”

“You should discuss that with Madeline. She would want to know you’re here.”

“I thought I’d let her finish the lesson. I enjoy watching her play.”

“I hope you have a pleasant visit.”

“Thanks very much.”

“I’m glad you’re here. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

Brady watched the woman walk back across the tailored lawn to the sprawling white mansion—the MOB, the Medical Office Building—that was set like a jewel on the slight crest under stately elms. Adjacent to the MOB was a second white mansion, nearly as gracious; the Inn, where the guests resided. The Austen Riggs Center had more the feel of a country club than a hospital.

Madeline was hitting a series of backhands powerfully and deftly. Her white tennis skirt emphasized the tan of her legs, her long slim legs, which Brady regarded as her best, most seductive feature. From the bench on the low rise where he sat she looked good, very good. Her blond ponytail swatted the air behind her head. She moved around the right rear corner of the red clay with the grace and lithe ease of a dancer.

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