Story of a Sociopath

  “I think you’ve got the wrong address,” he said testily.

  “I don’t think so. This is where Yoko lives, isn’t it? I study with her at the university and…Well, I was passing by and I decided to come up because she seemed upset today. We have an exam in a couple of days and I know that she’s worried. I thought I might be able to help her out.”

  Dave looked at me, not knowing what to say. I took advantage of his confusion to push open the door and go inside. Yoko was sitting on the futon, her eyes reflecting her horror. She barely managed to stand before running to the bathroom. We heard her vomiting.

  “This is terrible,” said Dave. “Literature will be the death of her. She hasn’t been eating or sleeping for so long now, she’s on edge…I don’t know what to do. What did you say your name was?”

  “Thomas. I’m Thomas, and I’ve noticed something’s not right with Yoko too. I’m worried about her.”

  “She’s never mentioned your name to me before…”

  “Well, we haven’t been friends long. I came to the university after the course had already started.”

  “And where are you from?”

  “I’m American. My parents forced me to study something practical, you know how it is, but in the end I rebelled and I’m here trying to study what I love, even though I’m frankly a little old for it.”

  He eyed me with suspicion.

  “It’s pretty late, don’t you think? Yoko’s exhausted. I’m trying to convince her to go to bed and sleep. I’ll stay here, I’ve got plenty to study.”

  Just then Yoko came out of the bathroom. Her face was tense. She was trembling and could hardly walk.

  “I’ve told your friend you need to rest. I won’t let you study tonight.” The firmness in Dave’s voice left no room for doubt.

  I fixed my eyes on Yoko, trying to make her even more nervous. I enjoyed watching her run back to the bathroom.

  “I’m a med student and…well, I think what’s going on is psychological. My father thinks the same. This weekend I’m taking her to our house in the country. She needs to rest.”

  “Good idea. Is their house very far from London?”

  “Near Bath.”

  “What a coincidence! I’ll be right around there, some friends have invited me to stay.”

  “If you wanted to visit us, we’d be happy to have you. Do you like classical music? My mother’s organized a concert. I think she’s going to surprise us with a new string quartet.”

  “That would be wonderful—if it’s no trouble.”

  Yoko was listening to us, propping herself up on the bathroom door. She was terrified. Her face looked like a madwoman’s.

  “Now if you don’t mind…I think it’s best if you leave.” Dave took me by the arm and led me to the door.

  I didn’t resist. I followed him without protest. I was already looking forward to the weekend at Dave’s house. Nothing could horrify Yoko more.

  During my last visit, Nataly had asked me why I enjoyed making Yoko suffer. I’d laughed at her question, but didn’t answer it. I hadn’t known what to say. But now I realized that it was true. I felt infinite pleasure in watching her suffer. Her physical deterioration was proof of my power over her. I wanted to destroy her and I didn’t know why.

  —

  I arrived in Bath midafternoon on Saturday. Dave’s parents’ house was one of those grand houses of the minor nobility. A landscaped garden led up to an ivy-covered façade with a huge wooden door where a butler was waiting. A few steps behind were Dave’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Gibs. He a doctor, she an amateur musician. They were the embodiment of the wealthy British bourgeoisie. Besides Dave, the Gibses had another son, who was under the age of fifteen and therefore could not attend the party. The British are merciless toward their children.

  Dave introduced me to his parents as a good friend of Yoko’s, and they accepted my presence without any further questions.

  “Yoko told me off for inviting you. She says you’re very busy and that you probably only accepted so as not to offend me,” said Dave.

  “She’s very considerate, but I was already going to spend the weekend here in Bath, and it’s an honor for me to be invited to your house. Your parents are charming.”

  “Yes, they certainly are. They adore Yoko and they’re concerned about her. Do you think it’s anything more than her worrying about passing her exams? I’ve talked to some of her friends, but they say they don’t know anything, except that she’s been acting very strange for a while now.”

  So Dave had invited me there in the hope that I’d reveal what was going on with Yoko. He was after information.

  “I don’t know many people at the university—as I said, I only enrolled a little while ago. And I don’t know what Yoko was like before. In my opinion she’s a very levelheaded person. She studies a lot and I think she has a real sense of responsibility.”

  “Yes, it could be that…Yoko’s over there talking with some friends. Come on, she’ll be pleased to see you.”

  Yoko went pale. Her hands began to tremble and the glass she was holding smashed into pieces on the floor.

  “Darling!” Dave couldn’t understand Yoko’s reaction.

  “I’m so pleased to see you. This place is beautiful. I’m so grateful to Dave for inviting me.”

  “Why don’t you show him the garden before it gets dark?” suggested Dave, who was being called by his mother to attend to other guests.

  I calmly walked up to Yoko and took her arm, gripping it tightly.

  “What an excellent idea. Let’s go to the garden.”

  We left the house and I led her to the leafiest part of the garden.

  When we got there I stood in front of her and couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Oh, don’t make that face. Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

  “What do you want, Thomas? How have I wronged you?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Yoko. You haven’t done anything because there’s nothing you could do to me. We’ll do it here.”

  “What do you want to do?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  “There’s nothing more delightful than cheating on your lover right under his nose, don’t you think? Good old Dave could never imagine you’re a whore, and he’s so innocent that he’s invited me here not knowing anything about me. He handed me this on a silver platter. Come.”

  I pushed her to a bench and forced her to lie down on the marble; then I lay on top of her. She didn’t say a word. She closed her eyes. The only pleasure I felt was thinking that someone might catch us, and how stupid Dave’s face would look.

  I wasn’t that fortunate. No one saw us. So we went back to the house. Me, with the euphoria of having made her surrender to me; her, with her face smeared, her hair a mess, and her skirt stained. She wrenched away from me and ran up the stairs, presumably to her room or a bathroom, to try to erase the traces of my assault.

  Mrs. Gibs’s evening of music promised to be a long one. I preferred to go back to London and spend the rest of the night at Madame Agnès’s. I made my apologies to Dave, who insisted I stay.

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I’m due for dinner with some friends nearby. It’s been wonderful to be here. The quartet is delightful.”

  “You’ll have to come another time. Yoko would like that.”

  “Of course, and you should know that if you think I can help her you only have to ask.”

  Back in London I couldn’t have felt more satisfied with how the day had gone. Although I remembered that I had caught Dave’s mother, Mrs. Gibs, looking at me worriedly. She didn’t like me. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t hide her disapproval.

  Perhaps I could have let myself be moved by Yoko’s condition. I had spent months harassing her and abusing her. That day I could have pitied her and given her back her freedom. Told her that Dave was a great guy, that the Gibs family really loved her, and that she should have the chance to have a better life. Shortly after proposing to Yoko, Dave woul
d marry her and the Gibses would have no problem helping them both pay for their studies.

  Dave was a nice guy, but too innocent; I still don’t understand how he didn’t suspect anything about my relationship with Yoko. But there are people like that, people who don’t have a bad bone in their body. Those who believe that life is nothing more than what they can see. Incapable of base thoughts.

  Yes, I could have let Yoko go:

  “You know something? These people are wonderful and Dave loves you. You should stop working at Madame Agnès’s.”

  Yoko would have looked at me in shock, trembling, not knowing what would come next.

  “I don’t want to do you harm. I’ve done a lot to you, I know, but it’s over. I won’t say I’m sorry—what’s done is done—but I’m not going to harass you anymore. Believe me, it’s over.”

  I imagine her look of suspicion, thinking I was tricking her. But I would look into her eyes with all the sincerity I was capable of, assuring her that I was serious, that I would get out of her life. Her suspicion would turn into gratitude.

  “Now I’m going, Yoko. It doesn’t make sense for me to be here. Say goodbye to Dave for me. He’s a good guy. He doesn’t deserve to be lied to. Don’t even think about returning to Madame Agnès’s. If I see you there, then I will be the one to tell him what you’re doing.”

  “No…I won’t go back…I promise you,” she’d say in a faint voice, fearing she’d wake up from this dream.

  “Goodbye, Yoko, and good luck.”

  “Goodbye, Thomas.”

  —

  But this conversation didn’t exist. I never said those words. I wouldn’t give up having my own slave.

  —

  I arrived in London too late to go to Madame Agnès’s, so I resigned myself to drinking at my apartment. I wasn’t yet completely drunk when the beeping of my cell phone brought me back to reality. Jaime’s number flashed on my screen.

  “Thomas, you have to come. Dad’s had another heart attack. The doctor isn’t optimistic. He says Dad’s heart can’t take any more.”

  I was pleased to get Jaime’s call. It was the excuse I needed to go back to New York. If I’ve had any virtues in life—and it’s one I still have—it would be my sense of responsibility to my work, a sense of responsibility that has sometimes prevented me from doing what I wanted. But John’s heart offered me the chance to leave London without having to reproach myself for unfinished work.

  I called the airline and found a ticket for an early morning flight. I just had time to take a shower and throw some clothes into a suitcase. On the way to the airport I called Maggie.

  “It’s almost two in the morning on a Saturday. The only excuse for you to call me at this hour is to tell me you’ve died.”

  “Not yet. I’m going to New York, my father’s had a heart attack. Tell Evelyn and Cooper.”

  “Poor thing. Anything else?”

  “No, not at the moment. I’ll call you when I can.”

  ADULTHOOD

  7

  It was snowing. I’d left London in the rain and found New York in the snow. I’ve always liked snow, even though I can’t stand the cold.

  I went to the house to drop off my suitcase and change my clothes before going to the hospital. María greeted me without ceremony. It had been a long time since she’d made any effort to be kind to me.

  “Your father is dying. I hope you’re not going to do anything to anger him—just let him go in peace,” she warned me.

  “The first thing I’ll do when he dies is fire you,” I threatened.

  “That’ll be up to Jaime,” she said, turning her back on me.

  “Make me coffee and a sandwich,” I ordered her.

  These confrontations with María were part of my daily life in New York. I stood under hot water in the shower. I was tired and was tempted to sleep for a while, but when I got out of the shower my cell phone was ringing nonstop.

  “Where are you?” Jaime’s voice was urgent.

  “Just got here. I’m getting out of the shower—what’s going on?”

  “Dad had another heart attack. It’s the second one in two days…Come as soon as you can.”

  I dressed hurriedly while eating a sandwich and calling a car company. I arrived at the hospital just as the doctor was explaining that John’s only chance of survival would be from trying a new surgery.

  “If you operate, will that save him?” my brother asked fearfully.

  “I can’t guarantee it. His heart is very weak, it might not be able to take it. But if we don’t…then it’s a matter of hours. I’m sorry,” said the doctor, checking the clock out of the corner of his eye.

  “That doesn’t give us a lot of options,” said a voice. I had trouble recognizing it as Aunt Emma’s.

  Emma had aged so suddenly she was almost unrecognizable. She had cut her hair and now wore it in a short bob; it had lost its golden color and was now gray, almost white. Her shoulders were slumped, her mouth a grimace. There was nothing left of the woman I’d once known.

  The doctor responded after thinking for a few moments.

  “I’m sorry, but I’d sooner tell you the truth. I can’t guarantee that the surgery will save him, and he could die during the procedure. But if we don’t operate…I’m sorry, I’m truly sorry.”

  Jaime looked at Emma, hoping she’d say something. Then he looked at me. We hadn’t even greeted each other.

  “I’m in favor of fighting. I don’t know what you two think, but I think it’s worth the risk for Dad to have the operation.”

  “If they don’t operate he’ll die within a few hours, if they do operate he still could…I don’t know. Sometimes I think John is tired of living and would like us to leave him in peace,” replied Emma.

  “Yes, he’s tired, but my father’s not the type to retreat from battle. And I can’t just let him die without doing anything,” replied Jaime.

  The two looked to me for my opinion. I held their gaze before replying.

  “Do what you want. I won’t be the one to make the decision.”

  Emma glared and I saw one of her hands rise up, ready to slap me. Jaime grabbed her hand and held it with the same force with which he was gritting his teeth, the effort apparent in the tension in his cheeks.

  “Operate, Doctor. We’ll hope for the best,” he said to the doctor, who was waiting expectantly.

  “Very well. If you want you can go in and talk to him for a few minutes. Then we’ll operate immediately.”

  We went into John’s room. He was lying on the bed with his body hooked up to several monitors. A nurse was attaching another electrode.

  John opened his eyes and seemed to smile. Jaime went up to him and stroked his face, as Emma took his hand and held it between hers. I stayed away from the bed, standing next to the door. I felt like an observer, as if I weren’t meant to be in this scene and had walked onstage at the wrong moment.

  “Thomas.” He spoke my name in barely a whisper.

  Jaime came over and pushed me toward the bed until I was standing at its head.

  “I’m so happy you’re here…” John murmured. It was hard for him to speak.

  I nodded. I had nothing to say to him. I didn’t feel the need to tell him anything. This man, who seemed to have shrunk in stature from his illness and whose emaciation allowed his bones and veins to show through, was closer to death than life. I saw the effort it took for him to fix his eyes on me and speak again.

  “I have always loved you, Thomas. Always.” His voice barely made it out of his exhausted body.

  “Dad, Thomas knows how much you love him, and he loves you too.” Jaime grabbed me by the arm, forcing me to bend over John.

  My brother wanted me to kiss that white cheek. He wouldn’t let go of my arm, squeezing until it hurt. But I wouldn’t give in, and jerked up hard until I was standing again. Emma looked at me with such hatred it almost made me laugh.

  “You’ll be okay, John. The doctor says they have to operate, an
d it’ll go well, you’ll see,” said Emma as she stroked his face.

  “Yes…yes…” whispered John, closing his eyes.

  “I love you so much, Dad. Keep fighting, we all need you.” Jaime’s voice was firm and decisive.

  John opened his eyes again and looked at us one by one. I thought he was trying to tell each of us something through that look. When he turned to me I saw the profound hurt he felt at my coldness, and his desire to communicate how much I meant to him.

  They came to take him to the OR, and Jaime and Aunt Emma walked beside the bed as it was wheeled to the elevator. I followed them wordlessly. When the elevator doors opened, I saw that I was the last person John looked at.

  “It’ll be a long operation. We should go get coffee and something to eat,” suggested Jaime, ignoring my indifference.

  “Yes, coffee will do us good,” agreed Emma.

  We went to the hospital cafeteria and found a table. Jaime ordered coffee and some sandwiches.

  The wait was unbearable to me. I was starting to feel my jet lag. I fell asleep there, sitting up, not part of Jaime and Aunt Emma’s insipid conversation. I slept for a long time until Jaime’s hands gripped my shoulders, urging me back to reality.

  “They’ve just paged us. Let’s go.”

  We went to the floor above, where the doctor who had operated on John was waiting. The moment I saw him I knew he was going to tell us that John had died. He hadn’t been strong enough, and his heart had failed.

  “I’m sorry…It wasn’t possible…” the doctor managed to say.

  Aunt Emma began to cry. She did so silently, without hysterics. I saw how Jaime was trying hard to stay standing, to hold back his tears and play the role of the strong man, the man who could bear even the death of his father because he now had to be head of the family. A family that, aside from the Spencer grandparents, now consisted only of him, Emma, and me.

  Just as I was thinking about these grandparents, they appeared in the doorway. My grandfather James and grandmother Dorothy were looking at us in silence, realizing what had happened.