Chapter 83: Steve Being Steve

December 18, 2000, Pontiac, Illinois

The guard led us to the metal door from which he and his partner had emerged moments before and used his radio to ask for it to be opened. When it was, we followed him through, with his partner bringing up the rear. The hallway was short and we had to wait to be buzzed through another strong metal door. Once we were through that one, we walked down a long hallway, with Samantha and I electing to walk single-file so we could easily stay in the center, as we’d been instructed.

Eventually, after three more doors, and having seen only three prison employees, we entered the infirmary visiting room. Noel was in a standard hospital bed, connected to the usual set of heart and breathing monitors, and had an IV in his left arm, which was in a soft restraint. He looked haggard, and much older than the last time I’d seen him, but I’d expected that, given he was in maximum security and undergoing chemo.

“Hi, Dad,” Samantha said.

“Hello, Samantha.”

She didn’t make any move to get closer to him than the white line on the floor which created a buffer of about two feet. She didn’t have to stay behind the line, but had obviously chosen to.

“Noel,” I said, nodding my head.

“Hi,” Noel said. “Thanks for coming with Samantha. I suspect you’d rather be just about anyplace but here.”

“You suspect correctly,” I replied tersely.

“When are you due, Samantha?” Noel asked.

“March.”

“How is Benjamin?”

“Fine.”

“And have you picked out names for the baby?”

“Not yet.”

“Steve, how’s your business?”

“With the NASDAQ meltdown and the knock-on effects of the ‘dot com’ crash, things are tough at the moment, but we’ll get through it.”

“I suspect your principles are causing you more pain than most companies would tolerate.”

“At least I have some principles.”

Noel shook his head, “I once told you we weren’t all that different.”

“And you were terribly mistaken. But I’m not here to debate philosophy, or business, or ethics, or anything else; I’m here to support Samantha who, despite everything, still loves you. I’m going to sit in the chair and let you two talk.”

I moved to a chair against the wall, which was about as far away from Noel as I could get in the room. Noel had done Samantha a big favor by taking his plea deal with the Feds - my name had never come up in public in relation to his escape attempt. Had it, I was sure there would be no way I’d have been allowed in. The FBI had, from what amounted to embarrassment, left my name out of the proceedings against the guards at Big Muddy. I’d simply been named as ‘Confidential Informant 1’, and when they’d all taken pleas, that had been the end of it.

I listened, without any real interest, to the conversation between Samantha and her dad. He discussed his treatment, and while the chemo was helping, it wasn’t helping enough, and depending on a number of factors, he had anywhere from six months to a year, and was considering giving up on chemo because of the side effects. While I generally tried to avoid wishing ill on anyone, at this point, Noel had what amounted to a death sentence. The only way he was going to leave this prison was in a hearse, and that, to my discredit, didn’t bother me.

Noel’s comment, about us being the same, was true only so far as which members of the opposite sex attracted us and our penchant for a string of lovers. Beyond that, the only thing he and I had in common was Samantha, with whom I had much more in common. The crazy thing was, had Noel not made video recordings of his trysts, he very likely would still be running Spurgeon Capital and bedding pretty teenage girls. But he’d had to keep what amounted to trophies, and that had been his undoing. Those videotapes had caused his life to spiral out of control, leading to him being in a maximum security prison where he was going to die, painfully, from pancreatic cancer.

If it hadn’t been for my memories of my Georgia Peach, and of Joyce’s close call, I’d have said that the universe was exacting its own justice on Noel Spurgeon in that he would likely be in severe pain until the day he finally died. But that had been Stephie’s fate, as well, and there was literally no justice in a universe where a beautiful young woman such as her could suffer and die while some of the most evil and vile human beings ever to walk the earth, continued to do so.

Soteriology was one thing which made me question any and all organized, and most disorganized, religions. There simply was no good answer to the ‘problem of evil’. The Buddhist and Orthodox Christian responses to evil were, in my mind, about the best one could do without positing that any supreme being who might exist was evil, rather than good. That problem didn’t mean there was nothing helpful to find in the spirituality and world view they presented, but it certainly called into question any notion of ‘goodness’ which might be applied to the universe.

Samantha used about forty-five minutes of her hour, then said ‘goodbye’. I wasn’t surprised when she elected not to kiss her dad, so I stood, said ‘goodbye’, and we followed the guard out of the infirmary visiting room, and retraced our path back to the ‘man trap’ which let us back into the lobby. We signed out, then left the facility, walking quickly to the waiting car. Once we were buckled in, the driver put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

“Are you going to come back?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “I felt I had to see him, once, after the diagnosis, but coming back again would strain things with Brian even more than now.”

“Brian is a good man,” I said. “But even good men have limits.”

“I think YOU are a good man, but you don’t seem to have the same kind of limits.”

“My limits are always flexible when it comes to caring for people I love.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”

“That’s a tough question to answer,” I replied. “How about this - within the limits of being straight, there is nothing I won’t consider doing if I’m asked by someone I love.”

“Murder?”

“If someone were ever to abuse one of my kids, that would not be out of the question. You know the story about Stan Jakes’ brother. I’m not sure what I would do, but as a father, I have real difficulty objecting to what he did. It’s similar to how I feel about Bethany’s rapist. I arranged for him to be beat up; when he finally went to prison, one of his fellow inmates took exception and terminated him with extreme prejudice with a shiv. But you know me, I prefer the least violent method of resolving any situation.”

“Tell me the unvarnished truth about something?”

“So long as it wouldn’t violate anyone else’s confidence, yes, of course.”

Samantha laughed, “You are always very quick to qualify answers!”

“Because ‘truth’ is an ephemeral thing. I could tell you all the facts about something, but do so in such a way as to conceal the ‘truth’, or, you and I could have very different ideas as to what ‘truth’ means. Is it ‘just the facts’? Or is it more?”

“Every serious discussion with you ends up being a philosophical wrestling match!”

“I stand in great company with Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates. And they are absolutely not morons!”

“Yeah, I think Vizzini proved he wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was.”

“He failed to think outside the box. What’s your question?”

“What’s going to happen down the road? I mean with your medical conditions?”

“Nobody knows,” I replied. “But I have what could be diagnosed as Bipolar I. The diagnosis is informal because of all the problems that kind of diagnosis creates, and because I do not need medication to control it. Of course, what I just said is true, but I left off a single word which is key - ‘yet’. Now, you know my take on pharmaceuticals in general, with the obvious exception of antibiotics, and my take on psychoactive drugs, legal or illegal, except for alcohol, and that’s the real bone of contention.”

“But nobody has prescribed the drugs.”

“That’s also true, but bipolar disorder generally progresses and worsens with age. What scares the hell out of me is that it will come to a point where drugs will be deemed necessary to control it. I don’t have to take them, of course, unless someone can prove that I’m an immediate danger to myself or others, but that risks my behavior being erratic, which is why Liz sent me home from work.

“So far, I’ve really only had a few episodes of depression, and all things being equal, they’ve been mild, and they’ve been related to what you could call ‘normal’ life events - the deaths of my close friends Jorge, Birgit Andersson, Stephie Grant, and Nick Evans. None of those required medication; just counseling and time. The fear is that I have a full-blown episode of depression.

“The thing is, nobody knows for sure what sets off my mood swings. We know they’re exacerbated by my endocrinological and metabolism conditions, but neither of those is well-understood, nor has anyone come up with any specific treatment beyond trying to regulate my body cycles through diet, exercise, and proper sleep.”

“And sex,” Samantha teased, then added, “Sorry.”

I chuckled, “No need to apologize. So far three people have asked how Mary is going to get a true picture of my body cycles if I don’t have sex while I’m at Mayo!”

“Actually, I think that’s a damned good question, don’t you?”

“All humor aside, I will discuss it with Mary, but I also will tease her about it first.”

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be you! What’s the end game?”

“Hell if I know,” I sighed. “Doctor Mercer suggested reducing stress. Of course, I pointed out I had seven kids, all of whom will be teenagers at the same time, so that wasn’t going to happen!”

“Cirque du Steve is not going to go away.”

“No, it’s not. So she suggested more karate and some spiritual time, and less involvement at work. I think if I stick to coding and stay out of ANY operational stuff, that’s possible. And I can keep more flexible hours, as well as work from home, as necessary. The only stress I’ll suffer there is from Penny, who will be annoyed as hell if I don’t accommodate her in some way.”

“Your work wife?” Samantha teased.

“Something like that, though Liz might actually be a better fit for that role.”

“I don’t know any woman who cares for you as deeply as she does, and if you’ll excuse my saying this, that includes your wives.”

“As Liz has pointed out many times - wrong time, wrong place, wrong circumstances. In the end, she had the same serious impediment as you had - my inability to give either of you children.”

“Science is working on that.”

“Nobody, and I mean NOBODY, is sticking my testes with a needle no matter how important or how noble the cause!”

Samantha laughed, “So, I think we discovered your limit!”

“True!”

The car arrived at the airport and we quickly gathered our things, left the car, and climbed aboard. Minutes later the Gulfstream was tearing down the runway, heading back to Meigs. As soon as we were airborne, Samantha got up, went to the small galley, and retrieved our lunches. She brought them back to our seats and we began eating.

“How long have you known about the bipolar disorder?” she asked.

“I think I suspected it in High School but I didn’t have a name for it or even a way to really describe it. Believe it or not, Ed Krajick was the first to suggest it, at least tangentially, when he first moved to Chicago to pursue a relationship with my sister. He was describing her symptoms which matched mine.”

“When was that?”

“Around January of ‘91, if memory serves. The first doctor to suggest it, because I asked, was Eugene Bradford, which would have put it around February of ‘91 when Kara, Jess, and I were seeing him for marital counseling. He said my symptoms were far too mild for a diagnosis. Now, nine years later, it’s not quite so cut-and-dried.”

“This is going to sound ignorant, but I’m not sure how else to say it - you don’t SEEM mentally ill.”

“Which is what has Liz so concerned. One thing I learned about the definition and diagnosis of mental illness is that it has everything to do with how it affects your life. If it doesn’t cause serious problems, then by strict definition, it’s not a mental illness. We use terms like ‘eccentric’ instead. The very traits which make for a great entrepreneur, a great inventor, a musical prodigy, and so on, and which we admire, are the same as the symptoms and effects of various mental illnesses. The same is true for many behavioral quirks and even some lifestyle choices.”

“Your hyperactive sex life?”

“A potential symptom of several mental illnesses, but, so long as it’s not interfering with my family, work, friends, and general functioning in society, it’s not diagnosable. And you’ll remember I had to search far and wide for two women for whom my hyperactive sex life would not be a problem.

“Other than that, I seem to be in reasonably good company. A pair of public examples for ‘eccentricity’ that I can think of right of the top of my head are Steve Jobs and Thomas Edison. In my layman’s opinion, both exhibited many traits which could be part of a diagnosis, but neither of them were actually mentally ill.”

“What had Liz so concerned?”

“My critical thinking skills, or lack thereof, with regard to how to deal with EB. I decided on a rash course of action, but that was prevented by my habit of asking the opinion of my closest advisors before I do something radical or, in this case, rash.”

“Which is the real reason you need Liz there - to keep you from,” Samantha giggled softly, “going off ‘half-cocked’.”

“One problem I have NEVER had, save the very first time a woman’s lips touched me with intent!”

Samantha laughed, “That sounds like a criminal statute - lip contact with intent to fellate!”

I laughed, “Don’t give the prudes any ideas!”

“Bottom line - how will this affect NIKA?”

“The biggest issues are corporate morale and NIKA’s «kami». I think I can pull this off with the truth, a bit of self-deprecating humor, and a work schedule which allows people to see me. But it means completely relinquishing tactical and strategic decisions to my sister and the Executive Committee, guided by the Board of Directors.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“If you do withdraw, and I understand why you might feel the need to do that, make sure you attend the quarterly Board meetings. Nothing radical can happen unless it’s presented there, and you are the majority shareholder as well.”

“I’ll run that by Al, but I think he’ll agree. That would only be four times a year, and those meetings are usually not very stressful. I will need to see the monthly financial reports, but I think I’ll go back to the original way we did it where Elyse gave me a very concise summary with a short commentary.”

“I have a better suggestion, if you don’t mind.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s not about trusting Elyse, because I know you do, but having a third party who isn’t emotionally involved with you, but whom you trust, review the numbers and create the summary. I’m sure Bo would do it for you, and you trust him. He’s also less likely to try to shade things to protect you.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “He knows me and NIKA well enough to know when to identify a concern.”

“You’re building a support network, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always had one,” I said. “It started when I was a teenager, and there have been times when it’s formal, and times when it’s informal. I think this one has to be formal, and relatively permanent, unless the docs can devise a solution.”

“You aren’t expecting that, are you? Be honest.”

“No, I’m not. And to answer your next question, that is EXACTLY why I’ve managed to work myself into what amounts to frothing insanity over psychoactive or mood-altering drugs. I am positive somebody will recommend them some day, and the only real chance I have of staying off them and functioning is if the diet, exercise, and sleep regimens work, and I have people around to keep me ‘in bounds’.”

“Because the diagnosis is based on how well you function, more than anything.”

“That and being a danger to myself or others. To placate Doctor Mercer and Bethany, both of whom could cause me real trouble, I’m going to stop carrying and let Eve keep my guns for me. Doctor Mercer wanted me to sell my pistols and surrender my permits, but if I do that, I’ll never get the permits back. Eve will keep the firearms in the safe and Liz is the arbiter of whether I can have them or not.”

“You’re not worried about the Outfit at this point?”

I shook my head, “No, and you know I’m better off unarmed in most cases. Those two idiots who were going after Stephanie’s Boxster didn’t blink when I pulled back my coat to show the pistol, which makes no sense to me, but it did make it clear that I was certainly better off with just surprising them with my martial arts skills. That is, in the end, what I did with that pimp as well.”

“You never saw him again?”

“No. I’m guessing the combination of the broken wrist and the fact that I could identify him kept him away. That said, I’m sure he was replaced by someone else, and that someone else might even work for him. Between Union Station with Amtrak and the Greyhound Bus Terminal, you know there are plenty of vulnerable girls available. Boys, too, I’m sure.”

“Did anything ever come of that incident? I mean with Stephanie’s car?”

“No. A cop came and took a statement from me and hit on me, but that’s the last I heard.”

Samantha laughed and shook her head, “Of course she did!”

“When you’ve got it, you’ve got it!” I said smugly.

“You showed me that in a barn in Plainfield one afternoon eight years ago! And I think Saint Martin proved that, too!”

“And I very much enjoyed what we had together before you took up with Brian. I didn’t ask earlier, but did he say anything this morning?”

“No. He was quiet, ate his breakfast, read his newspaper, and headed to the base. But his anger is directed at my dad, not you or me. He obviously doesn’t approve of your lifestyle, but he actually has a seriously limited understanding of just what it entails. Sure, he knows you have gaggles of girls hanging around, but he doesn’t know anything except about Kara and Jessica. I think part of it is willful ignorance because if Maria Cristina was sleeping with you...”

“Then YOU were sleeping with me,” I replied. “And that’s a bridge too far, as it were. I’m assuming you simply said you lost your virginity during High School.”