Chapter 17

On Friday morning, Juniper and I got up and dressed for the day. She seemed alert and less affected by her drug regimen, although when I asked her about it, she assured me that she was still taking the prescribed drug as her doctor had instructed.

I put my Thursday clothes back on, and we walked into the kitchen together. Mary Jane greeted us without so much as a raised eyebrow and asked me if I was interested in breakfast.

I was.

"I have to be at Dr. Mendelssohn's office in forty-five minutes," Juniper said.

"What if I took you there, dropped you off, went home for a shower and a change of clothes, and picked you up again afterward?" I said.

"Dr. Mendelssohn might want you to come in and say hello," she said.

"Surely not."

"When you come back for me after my hour, will you come in if I tell you he wants you to?"

"He won't," I said. "But, sure, just say the word."

There hadn't been time for the Baltimore Sun to pick up the story, but the Internet version of the paper already had it when I checked from home.

The Sun's website reported that on Thursday night two prominent members of the Oriole pitching staff -- both starters -- had been given their unconditional releases.

The article reported, dutifully if vaguely, that the Orioles' front office had described the releases as being "for the good of the organization and in the best interests of baseball."

There was some grumbling from one Sun sportswriter about the oddity of letting two able-bodied starting pitchers go with a month still to go in the season and some remote chance remaining of the club's making it to the post-season.

But the grumbling was restrained. Evidently, everybody was reading between the lines and recognizing that there was more to the Marr-Wolcott release story than (so far) met the eye.

ESPN and CBS Sports also had the story, I noted in passing before grabbing my car keys and heading back to pick up Juniper.

Sure enough, Dr. Mendelssohn wanted to meet the famous Travis Horton, left fielder extraordinaire.

Maybe he was a fan.

The man, like his voice on the telephone, contradicted his Germanic-sounding name that induced visions of a Freud-like older man. No, the good doctor was thirty-something and looked more like the neighborhood Little League coach than a psychiatrist.

We shook hands and Dr. Mendelssohn mouthed the usual clichés about at last putting a face with the name, etc. etc.

I wondered if I looked more like a left fielder than he looked like a psychiatrist. Probably.

"I think I am going to give myself a couple of extra points for advising you and Juniper to talk yesterday," he said. "Maybe I'll write you up in a scholarly paper ... Anonymously, of course."

"You did good, Doc," I agreed.

"Look at her!" Mendelssohn said, holding both Juniper's hands -- the splinted one gingerly -- and beaming (up) at her face. "She looks a thousand times better than on Wednesday!"

"Or even on Thursday," I agreed again.

"Hey, relax, you two," Juniper said. "I just put on some makeup, is all."

"Come back Monday," he told her. "Same time. Stay with the prescription, even if you don't feel that you need it or want it. All right?"

"All right," she said.

"I told Dr. Mendelssohn," Juniper said to me, "about our sleeping together last night."

I probably blushed. "We just ... slept," I said.

"Oh, he knows that!" Juniper scolded. "He approves! Dr. Mendelssohn is cool. Don't worry!"

"I wouldn't -- you know -- start anything with all this going on," I told Mendelssohn.

"She trusts you," he replied. "Don't worry. Juniper told me all of it. You were there at her invitation. And you were a perfect gentleman."

"Not really," Juniper said. "He had wandering hands during the night."

I was scandalized. "I did? Really? God, I'm sorry, Juni! It was ... unconscious, honestly!"

She laughed. It was the first hearty laugh I'd heard from her since Boston. "I wish you could see your face!" she said.

"Don't tease the man," Dr. Mendelssohn said. "His intentions were honorable."

"But Doc," she said, "haven't you always said that the unconscious mind has motivations of its own?"

"If it happens again," Mendelssohn said, "just wake him up and make him turn over. I understand that works very well for bedmates who snore."

In the days that followed, the Orioles performed as well on the field as they had at any time in the season. We won seven out of ten on the home stand against three Central Division clubs and two of three on the road in Toronto before sweeping the Yankees in their park.

It didn't matter. With seven games left in the season, we remained in third place. Mathematical elimination had been forestalled, but despite the winning ways, hope was rapidly fading.

Meanwhile, Juniper was healing. She continued to see Dr. Mendelssohn every other day until mid-September, after which he reduced her visits to twice a week.