"Yes, most normal mothers could. They would probably be doing it out of concern, too. But we both know very well that is not what's going on here and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you toy with me today. So I'll ask you again. What is it that you want?"
Her look of surprised indignation was gratifying, as awful as it was to think something like that about one's mother. It was the only consolation I felt likely to get any time soon and so I took it. It seemed like all I really had going for me and it also helped me to gain a bit more even footing with my mom.
I knew I was going to need it, what with the impossibly large high horse she had rode in here on. She was never shocked for long, however, and now she was good and angry as well as triumphant. She stood quickly, slamming both of her perfectly manicured hands on my desk.
"David! What in the hell were you thinking? How could you let a thing like that happen?"
"Honestly, Mother, I fail to see why that is any of your business. It hasn't got anything to do with you, after all."
"Nothing to do with me? Are you serious? Because if you are, you clearly haven't truly thought about the implications of your actions. You've only been thinking about you and what you want."
"When I should have been thinking about you, is that it? I should have been thinking about how having my heart pissed on might affect you."
"Dear god, David, don't be so dramatic. Your heart? Please."
Now it was my turn to stand, every bit as angry as she was. Angrier. Angrier than she could even begin to imagine. Why couldn't she just be a mother? Just for once in her whole proper, cold life, why couldn't she tell me she loved me and she was sorry that I was hurt?
She hadn't done that for me once in my whole life, not that I could remember. Not even when Mikey died. The thing was, just because she made the decision to pretend she didn't have an actual heart beating in her chest didn't mean I had to do the same. She had no right to mock my heart, whatever its condition was.
"Yes! My heart. My heart. What would you like me to say, Mother? That you were right? That I should have recognized her, or looked into it further when you said she looked familiar? Fine, great. I fucked that all up. Is that what you want to hear? Congratulations, you were right. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to think about how I'm going to tell Sophie that the woman we both love might not be coming back."
"Fine, David. That's fine. You take your little moment and then you get your head out of your ass and get back to work. You can't afford this kind of emotional outburst. You've got to keep your eye on the prize."
She walked slowly towards the door without bothering to look at me again. She had heard all she needed to. She had gotten her confirmation and it seemed like that was really all she cared about.
She definitely cared about it more than she did me, but for the moment that suited me just fine. I wanted her gone, out the door. She almost was, too, but then she turned to say one more casual, awful thing.
"Oh, and David? Dr. Johnson is waiting outside. He said he needs to speak to you about something. About something urgent."
Fantastic. Just another person I had less than zero desire to see, no big deal. Why was it that the people who kissed your ass when things were going well were the exact same people to try to take you down when the sensed the slightest weakness? I knew that had to be why he was here. It was the scent of blood in the water.
"Dr. Johnson, come in."
"Are you sure? Are you sure you're up to it right now?"
He spoke with a false concern and sympathy that made me want to kick him right back out, or better yet just kick him, but I just put on the blandest smile I could manage and resolved to get through this conversation as quickly as possible. It couldn't take that long. After all, what could this man really have to say to me?
"It's fine. I don't know what you think you heard, but I'm perfectly alright. So what can I do for you?"
"Well," he said as he shut the door dramatically, "I won't lie to you, it's quite a sensitive topic. I'm not even sure I should bring it up with you at all."
"Well, you already have. I don't see how you could just leave it be now. Why don't you just take a seat and tell me what's going on?"
Dr. Johnson, still with a saccharine sweet look of concern that I found absolutely repulsive, sat reluctantly in the same chair my mother had only recently occupied. At least he wanted me to think he was reluctant. But he was far more transparent than I was gullible and I could tell that he was about to bust a seam, he was so excited to be doing whatever he was about to do. That could only mean bad news for me and the little man in my head began to beat at my temples harder.
"David. This is very hard for me to say."
"Alright. What exactly is it that is hard for you to say?"
"I heard about the confrontation you had in the hallway. With your nanny, Kayla? It seems the two of you were in a relationship?"
"I don't really see what business that is of yours. As far as I can tell, at least half of the hospital has heard about it by now. Why is that difficult for you to say?"
"It isn't that. It's the role that I played in the whole debacle."
Now every nerve ending in my body was standing to attention. I wasn't sure what he was getting at, not yet, but I did know that he wasn't talking to me because of some kind of a guilty conscience.
He must have known that the thing he needed to say to me would make me feel worse, which would make him as happy as a fucking clam. This guy! Dr. Johnson had been out to get me from almost the beginning, and somehow he had found a way to really hit me where it hurt. But if he thought that was going to get rid of me, he was sadly mistaken.
"Okay. Go on."
"I'll be honest with you, David."
"Dr. Wyatt."
"Okay," he said, looking appropriately taken aback, "Dr. Wyatt. I'll be honest with you. I have had suspicions for quite some time that you were not operating at optimum level."
"Is that so?"
"I'm afraid it is. After your brother's accident, you just didn't seem the same. I did a little bit of snooping around and discovered that you've been taking pills. Oxycodone, I believe?"
"I do have a prescription. I have the same bottle of pills they gave me two years ago, after I injured my leg. That should tell you how often I take them. It would be very easy to verify that, by the way. Maybe you should have done that while you were looking into my medical history."
"Well, I have to admit that I didn't do that. But I did start looking into your past cases and I became convinced that your little ‘habit' was negatively affecting your job. I thought you were hurting people, Dr. Wyatt, so I enlisted some help in proving it."
"Did you now?"
My voice had gone deathly quiet. I could see it in his eyes, the sick thing he had done. I knew what he was going to say but there was not a shot in hell that I was going to beat him to the punch.
I wanted him to say it. I wanted him to have to look at my face and tell me the rest of his fucked up plan. At least he looked good and nervous now. He looked like he thought I might hurt him and, truthfully, I was thinking about it. It seemed like the only thing that might make me feel better.
"Yes. Yes, I did. Do you want me to stop?"
"Oh no. I want you to finish. Stop stalling. It just makes you seem like more of an asshole."
"Jesus, okay, David. Dr. Wyatt, I mean. Okay. I knew about Kayla's case and how devastated she was by her sister. It wasn't hard to convince her of my theory that you were the one who was really responsible for Nikki. She wanted to believe it. It made things easier, gave her a person to be angry at.
Then all I needed was a way for her to get into your life and you gave me that with that advertisement for a nanny. She was in there to get dirt on you. She was supposed to prove that I was right, although I must say she did a pretty shitty job. I guess you proved to be more of a distraction than I anticipated."
"Was it worth it?"
It must not have been the response he was expecting because he didn't have an answer. He just looked at me with slightly squinted bloodshot eyes. That wasn't going to work for me. He didn't get to get off that easily.
"I asked you a question. You wanted to come in here and confess. I didn't ask for it and I'm not your priest. I'm not going to absolve you. I just want to know one thing. Was it worth it?"