Angie of the Garden

Chapter Nine-3

"You have a gift for understatement."
"I'm not just interested in her because she's a spiritual entity. I want to help her deal with the trauma she experienced on the way to California."
"Is this person real, or are you just imagining her? You would know if you needed help, right? I'm only asking because I've always considered you a friend, Hollis. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Hollis paused for a moment.

"The feeling's mutual, Clare. I can assure you that my mind is as sound as it's ever been. Which, come to think of it, isn't saying all that much."
"I have to get up early tomorrow to sell the people in America all the things they could really live without," Clare said after she stopped laughing. "Keep in touch, Hollis."
"We'll get together for lunch. Sleep well."

Hollis hung up the phone and went to see Sebastian. He found his brother watching a baseball game with Frank.

"What the hell are you swinging at!" Frank yelled after a Met player struck out. "The damn ball is ten feet over your ass!"
"Your guys just can't lay off the high heat,"

Sebastian observed.

"Because my guys are a bunch of damn fools! They got no more sense than a chicken with its head stuffed up its ass."
"Hello, gentleman," Hollis said in greeting.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Sebastian asked him.
"A beer will do. I'll get it myself."

Hollis took one from the refrigerator and then took a seat next to the groundskeeper.

"It seems strange to be watching television in this room again," he said. "Remember the 1986 series?" Sebastian reminisced. "I'll never forget the look on your face when that ball went between Buckner's legs. I thought you were going to weep for joy."
"I watched it, too. That's when I became a Met fan," Frank told them. "I saw that game in Virginia before we moved up here."
"I'll never forget that night," Hollis said.
"Of course you won't. Met championships are few and far between," Sebastian, who was an avid Yankee fan, pointed out.

"That's only because my team doesn't buy a pennant every year," Hollis retorted.
"As a Yankee fan it's very difficult to watch you poor Met fans experience such frustration from being losers so much of the time. Maybe we'll loan you a couple of bucks next year so you can get out of last place."

"Shit, you spend all that money and your asses are still getting beat to hell," Frank said. "You should spend some money to get someone who can throw the damn ball."

The conversation continued in the same vein for the remainder of the game. Sebastian came out on the short end of the debate that evening as the Mets rallied to win three to one. Frank said good night and went back to the groundskeeper's house.

"I received an unexpected phone call this evening," Hollis said after he left. "Clare called to check up on my state of mind."

Sebastian was at a loss for words.

"I hope you're not making Angie a general topic of conversation, Sam."
"Oh, no, of course not. I only mentioned it to Clare because she asked me what my plans were. I said that there was something very strange going on here, and that I was curious to see how it turns out. I wouldn't embarrass you."

Hollis stood up and walked over to the window. He gazed in the direction of the garden for several moments.

"I'm not embarrassed by anything I've done," Hollis finally said. "I just don't want this to turn into some kind of media circus. If word gets out that a ghost is visiting Doctor Simms, then Fairhaven will be overrun by reporters. And talk show hosts as well, including Robin Wainscot."
"Clare knows how to be discreet. Even though she is in advertising."

Hollis sat down on the couch once more.

"So that's why you haven't looked into returning to Wall Street. You want to see
what happens with Angie."
"Yes. I'd like a chance to speak with her. And the only way that will happen is if I'm here."
"I can't blame you for that. Talking with Angie reminds me of listening to broadcasts of the Cleveland Indians' games in the room upstairs when I was a boy. On certain summer nights, you could get a radio station from Ohio on Long Island."
"Do you know why? It's because radio signals are absorbed by the ionosphere during the day. When night comes the upper atmosphere cools off, so the signals bounce off of it instead. That's why you can receive stations from so far away."
"How do you know that?'
"I actually attended a few of my science classes when I was in college."
"I'm impressed. But whatever the reason, there was something magical, and a little eerie about being able to hear something you shouldn't be able to hear. At least as far as I knew at the time, though thanks to you I now know better."
"Speaking with Angie has to be a really amazing experience. For you it must be a little like hearing the siren's song."
"That's true. But as far as your speaking with her, it might never happen, you know. I can't risk having someone else distract her when she appears. Angie rarely visits the garden, so I need to use every one of those occasions for treating her. And as things stand now she might never appear again, anyway. So you should think about your career instead of waiting around here for a chance to communicate with her."
"Did Clare say that?"
"No, I said that. I also said you're welcome to stay here for as long as you want, and I meant it. But there could be serious consequences if you don't find a job in the brokerage business soon. You might not be able to get back in if you wait too long."

Sebastian could not deny the validity of his brother's statement. Yet he still could not put aside his desire to speak with the apparition. If he had been honest with himself, there was also his strong inclination to avoid the world of corporate politics that prevented the younger Simms from leaving Fairhaven.

"I understand that," he told Hollis. "But I need some more time to decide what I really want to do. If Olivia is complaining, I can stay somewhere else."
"As Frank told you when you first came here she loves to complain," Hollis said with a laugh. "If you're not the reason de jour then our groundskeeper and his verbal abuse of the plants will be. So don't concern yourself about it."
"So how is Clare doing?" Sebastian asked him.
"She's fine, but misses you terribly."
"Did she tell you that?"
"No. But I'm a psychiatrist. I know these things. Although come to think of it she
is Irish, and Freud said the Irish can't be analyzed. So I could be mistaken."
"Clare sure doesn't act like she misses me," Sebastian said in a despondent tone. "You really didn't expect her to support your decision to work in the bagel shop,
did you Sam?" Hollis asked with kindness in his voice.
"I guess we believe what we want to believe. I thought Clare would stick by me, even when I hit a rough spot in my life."
"I don't think she's given up on you. Courage, my friend."

Hollis walked by the garden on his way back to the main house. The summer stars twinkled contentedly overhead. He stepped inside the garden to look for some trace of his most unpredictable patient. There was none to be found.

A dejected Doctor Simms went inside the house.