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“All I gave you was a sleeping pill,” Amy said.
“Did it say ‘for elephants’ on the bottle?”
Dr. Stein chuckled.
“How long have I been here?” Matt asked.
“You slept through yesterday,” Amy said.
“Let me guess,” Matt said. “Light began to come through the windows a couple of hours ago. This is the morning of the second day?”
“Yes, it is,” Stein said, smiling.
“I normally tell time by looking at my watch,” Matt said. “But that seems to be missing. And both the telephone and the TV seem not to be working.”
“You needed rest, Matt,” Dr. Stein said.
“Is that a polite way of telling the lunatic that he was really bouncing off the walls?”
“It’s just what I said,” Stein said. “You needed rest, Matt. And not only don’t we heavy-duty psychiatrists use that word anymore-actually it means ‘affected by the moon’-but you’re not loony, bonkers, gaga, or whatever else you’re thinking.”
Matt had to smile. He remembered what his father said about Dr. Stein: “He looks, and acts, like a beardless Santa Claus.”
“Then what is wrong with me?” he asked.
“In layman’s terms,” Dr. Stein said, “do you know what thoroughbred racehorses and overachiever workaholics like yourself have in common?”
“We make a lot of money for other people?” Matt asked, innocently, after a moment.
Stein laughed.
“You don’t know when to stop. You don’t understand that you have limits like ordinary horses and other human beings,” he said.
He turned to Dr. Payne.
“He’s all right,” he said. “I’ll talk to him now. I’ll page you when we’re through. And on your way out, have them send two breakfasts in here.” He turned back to Matt. “I’ve never known you not to be hungry. What would you like? Take advantage of my presence. I get whatever I want.”
“I am a little hungry,” Matt said.
“Send in the ward nurse,” Dr. Stein said. “She’s getting a little too big for her britches, and it will do her good to take our breakfast order.”
“Okay,” Matt said. “Amy’s gone. That was a very nice breakfast, thank you very much. And now, I hope, you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with me?”
“I already told you what I know is wrong with you. Do you want to hear what your sister thinks is wrong with you?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“She’s been really worried for some time about you, and she’s been coming to me for some time to tell me why she’s worried.”
“Is that ethical?”
“Ethical, schmethical. She loves you. She’s a pretty good doctor. We’re friends. She came to me. It’s done-she can’t undo telling me. You want to hear what she thinks?”
“Okay.”
“She has developed quite a theory-basically that you don’t know who you really are.”
“Who does she think I really am?”
