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The man nodded sadly. “Yes, Cedric said you would need answers,” he said, turning abruptly. He was about five paces away when he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Come in! Come in!” and beckoned them to follow him further into the house.
“Um… are you Dr., uh, Xander Mellon then?” Taylor asked as she took a step forward, pausing at his first name, and Derrick knew she was thinking what a crazy name it was, too.
“Yes, an unfortunate name, isn’t it? My parents had an odd sense of humor,” the doctor pointed out.
Taylor flicked a glance to Derrick, who gave her his bestsee, I told youlook.
“Uh, may I talk to you about Cedric?” Taylor asked, trying to rein the conversation back in as they moved.
“Of course,” Dr. Mellon said, coming to a round table in the kitchen at the back of the home. He pulled out one of the wrought iron chairs, making a god-awful screech against the clay tile floor, and took a seat, motioning for Taylor to do the same.
“Uh, well,” Taylor fumbled as she took a seat across from the doctor. She had wanted to find this man so he could help her fill in the gaps, and now she wasn’t sure where to start.
“When did Cedric first start seeing you?” Derrick asked, and Taylor nodded likeyup, of course that was the most fabulous and best question ever.
A sad smile ghosted over Dr. Mellon’s face. “I met Cedric for the first time about thirty years ago,” he said, looking at the wall as he remembered. “He had entered a rehab program I was training in as a new psychiatrist.”
“Did he show signs of mental disturbance then?” Taylor blurted out. She was really curious to find out when the crazy had started, when the downward trend had begun.
“No,” Dr. Mellon answered calmly. “At that time, his drinking and drug use was the reason for seeking help. His major depressive break happened years later.”
Major depression? “Okay, but what about his, uh, I don’t know, his mental illness?” Taylor asked.
Dr. Mellon had a very practiced and effective poker face. “Cedric suffered from addiction, depression, and anxiety.”
There was a long pause from everyone else in the room.
“And?” Taylor asked finally.
Dr. Mellon laughed, “And nothing, that was it.”
“There has to be more,” Taylor demanded. “Was there schizophrenia or bipolar or something more?”
Mellon slowly shook his head, “No.”
“When exactly was the last time you spoke with Cedric?” Taylor asked, her voice now holding a slight edge to it.
“A few days before he died I—”
“So recently? Because the man I knew was not sad or nervous, okay. He was a raving lunatic,” Taylor said, her face and tone becoming hot.
“Mrs. Fletcher, I—”
“Don’t. Don’t talk to me in thatyou are crazy, he was finevoice. It wasn’t fine, he wasn’t fine. If he was under your care while he was ripping down walls, taking out electronics from my home, and then threatening to kill me then I think it is you who needs to be committed!”
“Tay, sit down, it’s okay,” Derrick said at her side as he held her hand. Taylor hadn’t even been aware that she had stood during her rant. “It’s okay, sit.”
Taylor nodded, shaking with the emotions that ran through her.
“Taylor,” Dr. Mellon said, his tone no longer laced with pity, “let me explain my relationship with Cedric. I met him when he went to rehab. He did really well. He was able to figure out a lot of things about himself. Cedric was a success story. He had freed himself from the tight hold addiction takes on so many. And when he left that program, I didn’t see him for, gosh, maybe four or five years.”
“What changed? Why did you see him again?” Derrick asked. Taylor was glad he was able to be on the ball with the questions because she was absolutely lost.
“Mr. Preston requested I take him on again as a patient,” Dr. Mellon answered.
“Cedric did?” Taylor asked in confusion.
“No, Taylor, your father. He wrote to me and asked me if I would take Cedric on as a patient.”