The Petty Details of So-And-So's Life by Camilla Gibb Read Free Book Online Page B

door of the house. Their wanting and needing were like hypodermic needles pushed deep into muscle in order to stifle movement. They’re trying to slow me down, he thought, fastening the lock across the garage door.
    It was when the statement addressed to him from the Bank of Nova Scotia arrived that Elaine finally stormed out to the garage and confronted him. She slid the paper under the garage door and screamed, “Oliver, I need you to explain this!”
    â€œI have a new bank account, Elaine. And
that
is none of your business.”
    â€œNone of my business?” she screamed. “Since when have our financial lives been separate?”
    â€œSince three o’clock last Tuesday afternoon,” he said.
    â€œBut where did you get the money to open this account, Oliver? There’s ten thousand dollars here.”
    â€œFrom the Bank of Montreal,” he said matter-of-factly.
    â€œYou mean from our account?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œYes?”
She was aghast. Oliver had just drained the entirety of their savings and opened a new account under his name, and his name only. “But why on earth would you do this?” she asked him.
    â€œProtection,” he muttered.
    â€œProtection?” she yelled. “If you’re looking for protection, Oliver, this isn’t going to get it for you. I have half a mind to go straight to the police.”
    â€œYou can’t go to the police,” he protested. “I’m your husband.”
    â€œBut this is robbery!” she screamed. “Oliver, I want you out of there. Out of this garage, just out—away from this house!”
    â€œBut it’s my house, too,” he said quietly. “And besides, where would I go?” he whimpered, though well out of earshot of Elaine who had by this time run through the back door of the house and picked up the phone to dial the police.
    â€œHe’s not done anything illegal, ma’am,” the officer on the other end of the line said.
    â€œBut he has done something insane!” Elaine shouted, the rest of her drink sloshing out of the glass in her hand.
    â€œBut not criminal.”
    â€œYou don’t call robbing your wife blind
criminal
?”
    â€œI don’t know what I’d call it, but I don’t think it’s us you want. Try the mental health authorities,” the officer said, and hung up.
    Twenty-four hours later, she had a call from Dr. Eisenbaum. Elaine had ferreted out the psychological report on Oliver that had been prepared some years before and tracked down Dr. Eisenbaum in Montreal. He didn’t remember Oliver exactly, but he did agree that there was at least one architect at McQuinn and Associates who he’d been asked to see for a psychological assessment some years earlier.
    â€œThat would have been my husband,” Elaine said. “I have the report right here. Signed by you in February 1973. ‘Superior IQ, delusional, overinflated sense of self-worth, self-aggrandizing, paranoid tendencies’—does that ring any bells?”
    â€œFar too many, I’m afraid, Mrs. Taylor,” said the doctor. “Listen. Is he in any danger of harming himself or your family?”
    â€œHe’s done plenty of harm already.”
    â€œPhysical harm?”
    â€œWell, no,” she had to concede.
    â€œThen there’s really nothing anyone can do. You can encourage him to see a psychiatrist, but you can’t force him to do anything against his will.”
    By the time Elaine went out to talk to him the next morning, Oliver, it seemed, had disappeared. The garage was locked and there was no response from inside. Elaine picked up a brick and threw it through thesmall window and stood on a rotting stump of wood in order to peer inside. Oliver was definitely gone. She enlisted Blue’s help then, giving him a leg up so he could cram his prepubescent body through the small window and open the door from inside. How