Story of a Sociopath

  “You could have told me,” I replied, bitterly.

  “Would you have let me?”

  “You know what, Esther? You haven’t been altogether loyal to me. You’ve always kept the door open for the Spencers even while knowing that I didn’t want anything to do with them. I don’t understand why you would care about my grandparents or Aunt Emma…Although in the case of my brother…Anyway, I thought that, being married, you and he would not have much to say to each other.”

  Esther wasn’t affected by my criticism. She smiled at the waiter as he placed her chocolate mousse in front of her.

  “In fact, we haven’t spoken much over the years, I told you already; greetings for Thanksgiving, Christmas, or my birthday, and little else. Although six months ago, when Eleanor was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Jaime called me; he was at his wit’s end.”

  “You met up.”

  “No. Well, not immediately. Actually, since then, we’ve been speaking occasionally. It was me who called him from time to time to ask after Eleanor. And yes, we saw each other once; I assure you it was by chance. I was at a restaurant having lunch with a client and he was also having lunch there, I think with one of the doctors who was treating Eleanor.”

  “That was it?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You didn’t see each other again?”

  “No, Thomas, even if you have trouble believing it. We only spoke over the phone. And the only reason I told you about Eleanor is so that you’ll call him. He only has you now. The rest of your family is gone. He needs someone to support him.”

  Esther has always disconcerted me, but I had trouble understanding what we were doing in that restaurant talking about Eleanor’s death. I couldn’t comprehend why she hadn’t told me at home that morning and had waited until dinner.

  “We haven’t seen each other in many years. We have nothing to say to each other,” I fumed.

  “I’m going to the funeral, Thomas. I know it’s what I should do.”

  “I don’t understand…I don’t understand you. I don’t know why you decided to tell me now, or what you expect from me.”

  “I spent all day thinking about how to tell you; well, this moment was as good as any other. You had to know.”

  “So the very beautiful Eleanor Hudson is dead, leaving two sons half-orphaned…I feel nothing, Esther, I don’t care. I never liked Eleanor and those boys don’t mean anything to me. They’re half nephews, only that. As for Jaime…I couldn’t care less.”

  “I’m not trying to tell you that you should feel more, just that it would be a nice gesture for you to call your brother. If you don’t want to, don’t do it; you’ve always made your own decisions regarding your family.”

  “And I’ve asked you a thousand times not to call the Spencers my family. John was not my father, he was my mother’s husband.”

  “But Jaime is your brother, you can’t deny that.”

  “Half brother.”

  “I’m tired of useless arguments, Thomas. I’ll support Jaime as much as I can. He doesn’t have anyone.”

  “It seems he has you,” I countered, furiously.

  She looked at me. She shrugged. At that moment I started to get dizzy and a wave of cold sweat shook through my body. I was scared. A deep fear shrank my stomach and made me want to vomit. I got up and went to the bathroom. I was shaking. Suddenly I was overcome by an acute pain that went from my chest to my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to calm down, make sense of what was happening to me. I fell to the ground. I can’t remember much else, except that Esther’s face was very close to mine, and people around us were trying to pick me up off the floor. They took me to the hospital in an ambulance. I think the medic who was taking care of me said something about a heart attack. I grasped Esther’s hand. I squeezed it with all the strength I was capable of. I felt her fingers caress my face in an attempt to comfort me.

  I was in the hospital for several days: first in the cardiac care unit, then I was transferred to a room. Although the doctors were optimistic, I felt that life was starting to slip away from me. Esther didn’t budge from my side. She wasn’t able to go to Eleanor’s funeral or to offer any consolation to Jaime, and that was the only thing that gave me a sense of relief during those uncertain times.

  While I was in the cardiac unit I had nightmares. I thought I could see Constance and Yoko looking at me from behind the glass that separated me from visitors. When I emerged from that semi-unconscious state I laughed at myself. I had been hallucinating. Yoko and Constance were properly dead. The ghost of Lisa didn’t scare me as much. But my mind had played a bad trick on me, menacing me with the faces of those two women who had died violently because of me. I couldn’t get that image out of my head.

  Seven days later I walked out of the hospital on my own two feet, holding Esther’s arm and bringing with me an endless list of orders from the doctor, among them a diet that was impossible to follow: no tobacco, no alcohol, lean meats, no sweets, no condiments. Plus a bunch of prescriptions for pills that I’d have to take from now on.

  I would get better. That’s what they told me at the hospital. My cardiologist said that my heart would be all right if I followed his recommendations: I would have nothing to worry about, apart from having to get my blood analyzed every week for something called INR, to determine the amount of anticoagulant medication I’d need to take for the rest of my life, along with the clopidogrel and the pills for my hypertension, blood sugar, and cholesterol. I protested. Being on medication for the rest of my life seemed like too much. I told the doctor that I was forgetful and wanted to know what would happen if I didn’t take some of the pills he had prescribed. Dr. Douglas patiently explained that an excess of anticoagulants may provoke an internal hemorrhage and, conversely, too low a dose could cause thrombosis.

  “Thomas, you cannot afford to forget to take the anticoagulants. You will live many more years if you follow my instructions to the letter,” he warned.

  Esther promised the doctor that she herself would make sure I took the pills without fail, and would even force me to go to the hospital each week.

  —

  When exactly did Esther meet Jaime? I think it was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. She didn’t try to hide it, she simply let me know one morning.

  “I’m going to your brother’s house this afternoon. He invited me to tea with him and his sons. He wants me to meet them.”

  “Why do you have to go?” I asked, again feeling the fear that had caused my heart attack.

  “Because I sincerely appreciate Jaime, because I wasn’t able to support him recently, especially at Eleanor’s funeral, because he’s lonely, because he doesn’t know how to face the future…Because of all that, Thomas.”

  “And because you care about him, because you still have feelings for him,” I said, with foreboding.

  When Esther didn’t want to lie she went quiet or responded with something other than what was asked. She was silent until she found the right words, and replied: “Listen, Thomas, right now the most important thing to me is that you get better. So do that and don’t think too much about anything that isn’t your own recovery.

  “If you want, you can come with me to see Jaime. I’ll call him and tell him; I don’t think it would be an inconvenience. You may find it hard to believe, but he has been worried about you. Despite what has happened between you, you are his brother and the only thing he wants is for you to get better soon.”

  I could have told her that I would come with her to console my brother and my nephews. Esther would have been surprised at my decision, but she would have gritted her teeth and called Jaime to announce that we would both be visiting him:

  I can imagine the scene. My brother would be nervous and awkward, but incapable of playing the villain in front of Esther.

  He’d be waiting for us, his sons by his side, on the doorstep of his beautiful home.

  “Thomas, it’s been a long time?
??I’m happy to see that you’ve recovered well. Boys, this is your uncle Thomas. Charles, Geoffrey, say hello.”

  The two little brats would shake my hand. Jaime would invite us in.

  We’d speak about the weather and other superficial things.

  “I know from Esther about your successes, you have one of the best ad agencies in Manhattan. Who would have thought?”

  “Well, you’ve done all right yourself. You’ve taken your father’s place at his law firm.”

  Esther would look at me with apprehension, asking me to lead the conversation down a different path.

  Charles and Geoffrey would witness the family scene with curiosity at first, then with impatience.

  We wouldn’t stay long. There wouldn’t be anything to say, so one hour later Esther and I would be back at home. She would be very satisfied with herself for having managed to reunite Jaime and me.

  “That was nice, a good start. You know what, Thomas? Now you’ll have a family again.”

  “You’re my family, Esther.”

  “I am, but I’m not enough. I also have you, but I like to see my brother and my nieces and nephews, I like to be reminded that life doesn’t end with me. And you also seem to enjoy it when we have dinner with my parents and my brother, and that’s because you wish you had something like that.”

  I wouldn’t tell her I despised her brother and his boring wife, that I thought they were tedious and uninteresting and that all they cared about was running the restaurant.

  “Yes, perhaps you’re right. I promise I’ll do everything I can so that things go well with Jaime from now on.”

  —

  But we didn’t experience a scene like that. I didn’t go with her. I didn’t have the strength to play the part of the brother who returns to his family like the prodigal son. I felt an even more profound hatred toward Jaime now that he was a widower. His freedom appeared to me as the greatest of threats. When Eleanor was alive I was sure that Jaime would not interfere in our lives. My brother could not conceive of disloyalty, and whether or not he loved Eleanor she was his wife, and he would never have done anything to offend her.

  I was in a foul mood for the rest of the afternoon. Since the heart attack, Esther had decided that we needed someone to be at our home permanently. She hired Mrs. Morrison, a divorced, middle-aged African-American woman, who, according to Esther, knew how to do everything, and could drive, which Esther deemed an advantage.

  I found her tiresome, especially because Esther had asked her not to let me out of her sight when she wasn’t at home, and Mrs. Morrison had taken this directive literally. She wouldn’t allow more than twenty or thirty minutes to pass without coming to ask me if I needed anything.

  There were shooting pains in my chest, probably due to apprehension, because Esther took more time than I deemed necessary. She didn’t get back home until seven. She seemed happy.

  “Mrs. Morrison has informed me that you have been very quiet all afternoon. I called her a couple of times to ask how you were doing.”

  “I have pains in my chest,” I said, to stoke her conscience.

  She didn’t think twice before calling Dr. Douglas, who ordered her to take me directly to the hospital. One hour later, the doctor examined me and concluded that there was no reason to be alarmed.

  “Try to make sure he doesn’t get upset about anything. I think he had an anxiety attack. Perhaps something was worrying him. Apart from that, his vital signs are excellent. However, if he feels unwell again don’t hesitate to bring him to the hospital immediately,” Dr. Douglas told Esther, then turned to me. “By the way, are you following the diet I prescribed? I hope you won’t drink a single drop of alcohol. I already warned you that you can’t drink while you’re taking your medication. And your breath smells of tobacco.”

  “Well, I enjoy a few indulgences,” I replied.

  “An exception from time to time is fine, but I must insist that diet is important, Thomas. And I repeat: no tobacco or alcohol. For God’s sake, Thomas, you are not a child! Esther, you should keep an eye on him.”

  I saw in Esther’s eyes something like repentance. Blaming herself for going to see Jaime, she thought that her absence had caused an alteration in my delicate state of health. The fright meant that she didn’t mention my brother again for some time.

  Two months later I went back to work. Esther insisted that I not tire myself out, but Dr. Douglas had discharged me and among his recommendations was a moderate amount of exercise. Esther knew that I lacked the willpower to do things I didn’t like, so she imposed on herself the obligation to come with me on an hour-long walk every morning. Then we would head to the agency, where they tried not to overwhelm me with any issues that emerged. It was me who decided I should resume a regular schedule. I didn’t want to be an invalid forever. Besides, Dr. Douglas had advised that I should try to live a normal life.

  When Esther felt sure that my heart was no longer in danger she told me she was going to see Jaime again.

  “He has a few errands to run in the area. We’ve arranged to meet for coffee. It seems that he’s having some trouble with his sons. He’s finding it difficult to raise them without Eleanor. They were very attached to their mother. Your brother works a lot and blames himself for not spending enough time with them,” she offered, as an excuse.

  “And what do you care? You can’t do anything—let him figure it out by himself.”

  “Well, nothing bad will come of having coffee and listening to him. It’s not about me being willing or able to do anything, but sometimes people need someone to listen. Perhaps you could come and have coffee with us.”

  I didn’t reply and stormed out of her office. I knew that she had decided to see Jaime and that nothing would persuade her to do otherwise.

  It was not the first time. From then on, Esther never missed a chance to tell me that she was going to my brother’s house, whether it was to bring a cake to his sons or because she had arranged to meet him for coffee. “He needs someone to talk to,” she would say as an excuse.

  In time, Jaime became a part of our marriage. At first his presence was occasional, but little by little it became constant. Even on weekends, when Esther and I were relaxing at home, her phone would ring and I’d hear her talking to one of Jaime’s sons, who’d call to ask her about something.

  “You get along well with those boys,” I said to her, one Sunday afternoon after she’d spent a long time talking to Charles, the older son.

  “They’re good kids, Thomas. They miss their mother and sometimes Jaime is too strict with them. Charles wants to go fishing in Newport with some of his friends but your brother won’t let him go up by himself. You know what these things are like.”

  “And what do you have to do with that?”

  “Well, Charles called me to ask me to convince his father.”

  I was out of the game, a game that went on without anyone missing me. What worried me was that Esther was becoming more and more involved in Jaime’s life. I was sure she wasn’t sleeping with him—she was too loyal, and Jaime was too much of a gentleman to try—but they were weaving a relationship in which I wasn’t needed.

  The following weekend we went to Miami to see Paul. He was in the hospital with pneumonia and the doctors didn’t seem optimistic about the prognosis. But the pneumonia hadn’t taken away an iota of Paul’s wit and humor.

  Esther went to the cafeteria, and I took advantage of those few minutes to get some things off my chest.

  “Esther wants a family, Thomas, don’t you see?”

  “She has a family. I’m her family, and she has her parents and her brother, her sister-in-law and her nieces and nephews.”

  “I mean a family of her own. You never had children. Why?”

  I was silent for a while, thinking. I didn’t have an answer. I’d never been interested in having children, but Esther hadn’t seemed to want them either. Or that’s what it seemed like to me. But Paul was suggesting now that she regretted not becom
ing a mother.

  “Your brother and his children are offering her the opportunity to be the mother she never was. And she likes that, she finds it rewarding, it makes her feel important,” said Paul.

  “If she wanted to become a mother then why didn’t she tell me?” I contended.

  “I don’t have an answer to that, Thomas. Your marriage has always been peculiar. Any other woman would have left you a long time ago.”

  “We’re a bit old to play mommy and daddy, don’t you think?”

  “Of course Esther is too old to give birth. But there are your brother’s sons, who allow her to fulfill her yearning for motherhood. If I were you…Anyway…I don’t want to worry you, Thomas, especially since you’ve just recovered from the heart attack, but if you were smart you’d turn the situation around. Make amends with your brother, play the role of complacent uncle for the sake of his sons; get properly involved in those family afternoons where Esther is the stand-in mother. If you’re there she won’t be able to play any role other than auntie.”

  “I can’t stand my brother! He’s such a hypocrite. He has always wanted to take Esther away from me.”

  “Up until now he hasn’t achieved it, but don’t forget that women like to act as the savior. Jaime’s situation is perfect—Esther will feel irreplaceable.”

  —

  He was right. Paul has always been able to see what the rest of us couldn’t. But I didn’t follow his advice. Out of pride? Because I didn’t want to cave in? I don’t know, but I didn’t want to be cast as the black sheep who comes back to the pen, forced to make amends with his brother and to pretend to be an uncle to some nephews he has no interest in.

  On the afternoons when Esther met Jaime and his children I went to Olivia’s apartment. She was the only person I could vent my fury with, although I was getting more and more irritated by her lack of interest in what was happening to me. Olivia was absorbed in her relationship with Jerry and was trying to bring ours to an end. We would exchange a few threats, aware that if either of us took one step against the other, it would mean our mutual destruction.