Adrienne frowned. “But, surely you have some idea. I mean, you’ve been in there for hours.”
Shaw sighed, entwined his hands and stretched his arms above his head. He closed his eyes, and rolled his head in a circle. Then he lowered his arms and rotated his shoulders. Finally, he said, “Why don’t we sit down?”
They did.
“It’s a very odd business,” Shaw began. “What interested me at first was the duration of what I was led to believe was an amnesic fugue, but—”
“You changed your mind,” Adrienne suggested.
Shaw nodded.
“And now what do you think?”
“I think—that I don’t know what I think. I can honestly say I’ve never encountered anything like Jeffrey’s mind. He knows almost nothing about his past and what he does know is less remembered than learned. It’s as if he read about himself, and memorized the details.”
Adrienne looked at Duran.
“I’m a fascinating case,” Duran told her, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Ray’s gonna name a disease after me. Call it Duran’s Syndrome.”
Shaw smiled. “If I ask Jeffrey about an incident in his past, one that he recalls, he’ll relate the story in the same way each time, bringing up the same details in the same sequence.”
“So?”
“They’re anecdotes—remembered stories, rather than memories per se. It’s not uncommon, really. All of us do it to some extent, embellishing our recollections to conform to one agenda or another, making ourselves look more attractive, our parents more loving—whatever it may be. But in Jeffrey’s case, his memories aren’t just polished, they’re set in stone.” Seeing Adrienne frown, Shaw went on to explain that “I asked Jeff to recall certain incidents from his past—the kinds of things no one would embellish.”
“Like what?” Adrienne asked.
“Ohhhh… “ He rolled his hand in the air. “The time you lost your first tooth.” He paused, and nodded encouragingly. “How was that handled in your family?”
Adrienne blushed. “I don’t know—”
“Of course you do. Think about it. When you lost your baby teeth—was it handled matter-of-factly? Or was it a big deal?” The psychiatrist pressed his hands together and put them in front of his face, so that his fingertips touched his lips.
Adrienne thought about it. “Well,” she said, a little nervously, “in my family—that’s kind of a loose construct, just for openers. I did a lot of moving around between ‘families’ when I was a kid.”
“That’s not what we’re talking about,” he objected, impatient for an answer. “Wherever you were, whoever you were with, you lost your first baby tooth. Take it from there. What happened?”
She shut her eyes, squeezed her face tight, made a show of having to remember although why she was doing this she didn’t know—because she did remember, she remembered quite clearly. Finally, she said, “I lived with my grandmother, and she made a big deal about it—which wasn’t really like her.”
“Go on.”
“Well, she had a little ceramic case. A special case that was shaped like a tooth.”
Duran laughed.
“Really! And it had a hinge that you opened, and ‘Tooth Fairy’ was engraved on the top. I thought it was wonderful,” Adrienne told them, “though now that I think about it… well… it seems a little strange.”
She giggled nervously.
“Go on.”
“Well, the tooth went in the box and the box went under my pillow and, when I woke up in the morning, there was always a dollar bill—all folded up in a tiny little wad—instead of the tooth. Gram didn’t understand how mercenary I was—I was ready to pull out the rest of them.”
“You see,” Shaw said, gesturing toward Adrienne with an open palm, “you recall it perfectly. As you should. Losing a tooth is a rite of passage—and almost everyone has some recollection of it. But not Jeffrey. Jeffrey doesn’t remember anything about it at all.”
He glanced at Duran, who shrugged.
“Anyway, as I was telling Jeff—I have a catalog of unimportant incidents of that kind. Things we all did—like eating lunch in elementary school, going out for a haircut, going to the dentist. I could give you dozens of examples of what amount to collective memories, memories that you might say are common to the human condition—or at least to the American condition. But—” Shaw turned to Duran with an apologetic smile. “Our friend, here, might as well be from Mars. Of all the events I suggested—and there were a dozen of them—Jeffrey responded to exactly two.” He held up his fingers, like a peace sign. “He remembers going to the beach—Bethany Beach—with his parents. And he remembers blowing out the candles on a birthday cake. Everything else is a blank—and that’s not what I expected.”
Adrienne looked puzzled. “Why not? We know he has amnesia.”
Shaw tilted his head from side to side. “Yes, but we also know he’s a confabulator. And that’s what makes the case so interesting: he’s a twofer. And not just any twofer. Mr. Duran is convinced that his recollections are true—that’s why he passed the lie detector test that you mentioned, and that’s why he naively took you to a beach cottage that didn’t exist. All of which is consistent with what I learned this afternoon. When I asked Jeff about these insignificant events that we’ve been talking about, he made no effort whatsoever at invention. Either he remembered them, or he didn’t. Mostly, he didn’t.”
“But what does that mean?” Adrienne asked.
“That he’s not a conman.”
“And?”
“That he’s delusional as well as amnesic.” Shaw turned to Duran. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with me discussing you in this way?”
Duran rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Adrienne and I are old friends. Ever since she stopped suing me.”
Shaw looked surprised. “You’re suing him?”
Adrienne shook her head. “No. I was. But I’m not.”
The psychiatrist took this in stride. “At any rate, we went through some of the clinical tests I mentioned earlier.”
“And?”
“Everything’s normal—except the patient.” He smiled. “So I hypnotized him.”
Adrienne frowned. “But… I thought you were opposed to hypnosis.”
“On the contrary. It’s a useful tool—and I thought it might relax him. Loosen his inhibitions.”
“And did it?” Adrienne asked.
“No—even under hypnosis, he was still drawing blanks. But the incidents he did recall—going to the beach, his first birthday cake (and first birthday party)—well that was even more interesting.”
“How so?”
“He told me the same stories. And I mean, exactly the same stories. Almost word for word. As if he were reciting a poem, or a speech.”
“Which means what?” Adrienne asked.
Doctor Shaw shook his head. “Too soon to say. But there are a couple of tests I’d like him to take—just so we can rule a few things out.”
“Like what?”
“Hippocampal damage.”
“And these tests… what are they?” Adrienne asked.
“CAT scan. PET scan. MRI.”
It was Adrienne’s turn to roll her eyes. “I don’t think Mr. Duran has the money—”
“He’s insured,” Shaw told her. “We checked.”
“Is he?” she asked. “With Mutual General?”
“No,” Duran told her. “I’ve got Traveler’s. The other was malpractice insurance—for the tapes.”
Shaw got to his feet, and went to the receptionist’s desk. Opening one drawer after another, he finally produced a map and some papers, which he handed to Duran.
“What’s that?” Adrienne said, looking over Duran’s shoulder.
“A map of the hospital, shows you where the lab is. Consent forms.” Shaw glanced at his watch, and made a helpless gesture. “Oh, Jesus,” he said, “I’m going to catch hell.”