“I must interrupt,” said Arthur, “but I have always felt that physical love is illogical and anachronistic, considering the most recent advancements in scientific—”

“You’re crazy!” Adalana screamed. “Both of you!” Then her voice softened again. “If you could just experience what it’s like to be held and cared for, you’d understand.”

“Look, bitch!” Ragen snapped. “I do not care who or vat you are. If you so much as speak to another person on this unit—or to any other person again—I will make sure you die.”

“One moment,” Arthur said. “You do not make those decisions at Harding. Here I am dominant. You listen to me.” “You are going to allow her to get away with this shit?”

“By no means. I will handle it. But you are not the one to tell her she can no longer take the spot. You have nothing to say about it. You were idiotic enough to allow her to steal that time from you. You had not enough control. Your stupid vodka and marijuana and amphetamines made you so vulnerable that you put Billy’s and everyone else’s life in danger. Yes, Adalana did it. But the responsibility was yours, because you are the protector. And when you became vulnerable, you put not only yourself but everyone else in danger.”

Ragen started to speak, but backed away. Seeing the plant on the windowsill, he swung his arm and swept it to the floor.

“Having said that,” Arthur continued, “I agree that Adalana will henceforth be classified as ‘undesirable. ’ Adalana, you will never again take the spot. You will no longer take time.”

She moved to the comer, facing the wall, and wailed until she left the spot.

There was a long silence, and David came and wiped the tears from his eyes. Seeing the plant in the broken pot on the floor, he watched it, knowing it was dying. It hurt to see it lying there with its roots exposed. He could feel it withering away.

Nurse Yaeger came back to the door with a tray of food. “Are you sure I can’t help you?”

David cringed. “Are you going to put me in jail for murdering the plant?”

She set the tray down and put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “No, Billy. No one is going to put you in jail. We’re going to take care of you and make you better. ”

Dr. George took time from his busy schedule to attend the American Psychiatric Association meeting in Atlanta on Monday, May 8. He’d seen Milligan the previous Friday and arranged for him to begin intensive therapy, while he was gone, with the Director of Psychology, Dr. Marlene Kocan.

Marlene Kocan, a New Yorker, was among those at Harding Hospital who had from the beginning doubted the diagnosis of multiple personality, although she never expressed this openly. Then one afternoon as she was talking to Allen in her office, Nurse Donna Egar greeted her: “Hi, Marlene. How’ve you been?”