Elsinore Canyon (8 page)

“You think this is a good idea?” she said.

“Don’t keep second-guessing yourself.” He turned her in his arms.

“Danielle was smarter than me.” She raised a dark eyebrow, one of the little bewitchments he couldn’t resist. Another was that matte berry lipstick against her white teeth.

He kissed her. “Danielle was her mother.”

“I’m learning the hard way, I underestimated motherhood.”

“Their relationship wasn’t magical, Claudia. Danielle loved her to death, but the kid got away from her. Teenagers do.”

Dr. Claudia nodded, unconvinced.

“I don’t mean to change the subject,” said Mr. Hamlet, “but speaking of your favorite people, Polly’s got the auditors.”

She gave him a cagey smile. “I like auditors.”

Mr. Hamlet smiled back. “He wants to talk to us afterwards.”

“Can he talk to
you?”

“That he can. Only, when he talks, I never think of this, or this, or this,” Mr. Hamlet said as he bit her ear over and over.

“You con artist. Hey, don’t stop.”

A medley of approaching footsteps broke them apart. A few moments later, Perla brought in Rosie and Gale, presenting in their usual perfection. Mr. Hamlet let Dr. Claudia handle the salaams. Even though he had seen the girls twice in the past two months, he choked at their adult-like appearance. Couldn’t tickle them and tell them silly jokes now, not even in the spirit of the old days—it was a qualitative change. Odd, because he still felt like the boy he’d always been, but he had no clue what was in these girls’ heads anymore. They should have been poker players with those flat, flawless faces.

The greetings and seatings dispensed with, Dr. Claudia spread her flowery palms. “It was nice of you and your families to come to our wedding reception. I meant to have you over sooner, but we’ve been so busy. Your mothers were perfect angels when I called them.”

Marble cheeks, glass eyes.

“We need some help with Dana. You know she’s changed since her own mother passed away.” A glance at Mr. Hamlet, who supplied a somber nod. “I understand you two girls have been friends with her since you were small. So, well, maybe you could help us. Maybe you could cheer her up.”

Twenty fingers laced, nails pointing out like tiny bayonets.

“Or at least find out why she’s so unlike herself.”

“I know she adores you both,” said Mr. Hamlet. “Eh, we haven’t had any pajama parties here in a while, but I’m sure we’re still equipped to.”

Dr. Claudia smiled indulgently. “Pajama parties are fun, but we know your time is valuable.”

Mr. Hamlet aimed his hairline assuringly at the lovely targets. “I’ll be very appreciative. It’s actually, ah, a serious matter. I’m speaking here not only as Dana’s dad, but as the head of the Hamlet Family Foundation.”

A moment of opaque silence, and Rosie turned to Mr. Hamlet with her facial muscles engaged at last. Her smile was a charming tease. “You’re practically like a father to
us,
you know. You could have just
told
us to come out here. You didn’t need to ask.”

A tide of happy love flowed into the room. “Well, that makes me feel old,” he dimpled back at her. “I didn’t know I was such an authority figure.”

“What would you like us to do?”

“Can you spend some time with her today? Just talk to her, try to find out what’s bothering her? Or at least get her to do something fun?”

“We would love to try.”

Dr. Claudia broke into a frothy smile and held out a hand to each. “Thank you both very much.” She retained the girls’ hands only briefly, sensing in their cool fingers that she had slopped over their thimble-sized capacities for gratitude.

Perla nodded in the door. The girls straightened their skirts and shambled gracefully after her into the wide, quiet hallway, their lips pressed shut and their eyes, unreadable once again, pointed straight ahead.

Rosie and Gale had gone shopping with Dana a few days prior to the wedding reception to pick out a staid yet pretty Badgley Mischka colorblock shift, only to see her skulking around in that black wool thing on the big day. Go figure that Perla couldn’t get her to answer the intercom now. She left them in a tasteful room purposed for temporary guest storage and moved off in search of the improbable hostess.

The two girls placed themselves on each side of a large desk and leveled their eyes at each other.

“What the fuck was that?” said Rosie.

“She’s always on like that, but…”

“Forget about the ‘on’ thing. What the fuck does she think is going on with Dana?”

“Wait, she’s more than just ‘on.’ What’s with the ‘appreciation’?”

“They have to offer us something. You don’t spy on your friend for free.”

“Spy? They didn’t say anything about reporting back to them.”

Rosie’s phone vibrated. She tapped it and read a message. A tiny gleam filled her eye, and she showed the screen to Gale.

You should have plenty of opportunity to get inside Dana’s head. Whatever it is that’s bothering her, it would be helpful to know what she means to do about it. Tnx again, Claudia H.

Gale gave a thin smile. “I wonder if we’ll get a bonus for results.”

Polly had ushered in the auditors, smiled over a set of signatures, and called for Perla to show them out. “I believe that puts things on a better course,” he said.

“Good work,” Dr. Claudia nodded as she looked over the papers.

Polly hemmed. Good work, what did that mean anymore? Everything meant something else. He sought out Mr. Hamlet’s eye for sympathy, but he was busy staring at his wife’s hands. “Always my intention,” Polly said. “If you’d like to hear, I also have some information about another issue of significance. I think I know something about the cause of your daughter’s, shall we say, behavior.”

Dr. Claudia’s head came up. “I certainly would like to hear.”

“What is it?” said Mr. Hamlet.

“I thought you’d be interested,” Polly said, looking down on them from his height. He summoned someone in the hallway.

In walked Phil, with an expression that confessed he had little idea why he was there. He sat and watched uncomfortably as his father unbuttoned his jacket with a flourish and turned around before settling in his own chair, as if to adjust the room to his grand size.

“I think I know my job here,” Polly began. “But in addition to serving this organization, I’m a parent like you, Garth. Claudia. I could waste a lot of time pontificating on what duty is, what parenthood is, what’s in and what’s out, and what’s up and what’s down for that matter, but that would defeat the purpose of this discussion because of the urgency of the case at hand.”

Mr. Hamlet nodded. “Then let’s get to it.”

Polly went on in a tone of smug expertise. “I think we can all agree that recently your daughter has been acting irrationally. Some people say it’s all relative, the line is finer than we think, physicians need to heal themselves, the inmates are running the asylum.” He raised his voice and held his hands out sermon-like. “There’s no telling who’s rational and who’s not in this world. But let’s put all that in perspective, and look at the obvious. Crazy is crazy—crazy is as crazy does, no one knows what crazy is but they know it when they see it. Like pornography.” Dr. Claudia and Mr. Hamlet started. “But that’s another subject.”

Mr. Hamlet cut in. “Polly, can you skip this, this…”

“It’s not easy for me either, Garth. But when you see the case I’ve compiled, you’ll be thankful I prepared the ground instead of…” The analogy was too much. “I’m not a farmer,” he said as if countering some insult. “I was at, I was at—”

“Dana’s gone crazy,” Dr. Claudia prompted him.

“Yes, thank you very much. Since we’re done with a statement of the problem, let’s move on to the cause. I think we can agree that every effect has a cause,” he said as if craving a concession from a couple of fools. “Every effect has a cause, and so does every
affect,
to use a psychiatric term. But affect, effect, it makes no difference what we call it. So let’s call it something very specific: my son.” He flipped open a binder he had brought in and unclipped a sheaf of papers. “These were on my son’s computer. They’re e-mails from Dana. Love letters, or love e-mails, call them what you will.”

“From Dana?” Mr. Hamlet said.
“You’ve
got them?”

Phil suddenly looked sick.

“My son is sixteen years old,” Polly said. “His inbox is not private. Don’t worry, no one else has them but me.”

“What. You—” Mr. Hamlet reached across in front of Phil and tried to nip the papers away from Polly.

“They go back several months. I’ll show you.” Polly held one out. “‘Phil, you are the most beautiful’—Hm. I don’t remember this one. How she ends after she starts by calling a boy ‘beautiful.’ ‘Handsome’ is the word I would have used. Let’s see, let’s see, yes. ‘The most beautiful person in my life, inside and out. Your heart is so pure, and every time you look at me I’m struck still. So lithe is your smooth, brown body—’” He shot an uneasy glance at Phil. “My son is tan. We don’t need to hear every word.”

Mr. Hamlet flailed an arm across Phil’s chest again. “How many of these messages did you read? What sort—?”

“Oh here, wait!” Polly said. “Listen to this one. Some of them really do sizzle. ‘When the ocean runs dry—When heaven falls down—When the earth stops turning—My love will endure.’ Rhythm but no rhyme. I think real, quality poetry is beyond her. So, here, she switches to prose: ‘I can’t write songs like you, so let me put it this way. Their thundering about God and guilt irritates me beyond anything, because I already know how bad my mind is. I can’t possibly take it to heaven. Is heaven sterile, I wonder? But thoughts of you banish all thoughts, all fears, even these. All I need to live is this: I’m flesh pulled over a skeleton, fired by a soul, energized by a heart, steered by a brain, containing a Phil-shaped space. You overwhelm and fill me. Dana.’” He perspired lightly as he put it away. “Well, fast forward to some four weeks ago, when I first realized my son and your daughter were getting this serious. Quite a piece of detective work,” he said with a look at Phil.

Dr. Claudia was fighting hard to suppress her astonishment. “I had no idea Dana had it in her. How’s the romance going, Phil?”

Three adult faces turned to Phil’s. “I didn’t really answer her. I haven’t had much chance lately.” His sunny, gentle voice trailed to a bleat. “I went to Alaska.”

“So,” Polly pounced, “What do you think now, Claudia? Garth?”

Mr. Hamlet looked irritated. “What are you getting at? We already knew the kids liked each other.”

“But I previously believed Phil was becoming far more emotionally involved than your daughter, far more than was good for him. He’s younger, he’s more dependent, and he doesn’t command the same public attention your daughter does. Heh, yes, she does these days. Well, I didn’t want Phil to get hurt, so I sent him away for several weeks—out of sight and out of mind, for both him and Dana. And you know what happened after that Dana-wise. It turned out she was the one who suffered. Do you see? Her behavior has been a cry for attention. It’s all been an act of self-destruction and anger, based on feelings of rejection and worthlessness due to my son’s apparent coldness towards her. Here’s another of her messages.” He sorted out yet another paper. “‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’”

“We know the poem,” Mr. Hamlet said.

Polly’s mouth hung open, mid-syllable. “All credit to our education.” The interview was taking an odd turn. Claudia and Garth seemed to be switching sides before his eyes.

“Can I—could I have that?” Dr. Claudia said, reaching for the paper.

“Of course.” Phil watched it pass from one hand to the other.

Dr. Claudia massaged her lip as she looked over the page. “Well.” She handed it to Mr. Hamlet. Phil watched it circulate once again. “Garth, what do you think, a cry for attention? A little teen melodrama?”

Mr. Hamlet turned the paper face-down on his knee, lost in the overly rapid progress of this conversation. Polly had his daughter’s e-mails. “I think we’re overthinking this thing,” he said distractedly. “Look, the answer’s right under our noses. Her mother’s dead.” He slipped a finger under Dr. Claudia’s curled palm. “And you and I did get married faster than she was ready for.”

Polly tapped the binder confidentially. “I can keep an eye on things.”

“Apparently,” Mr. Hamlet said.

“I hope Polly’s right,” said Dr. Claudia. “It’s a lot more thinkable than the other things we’ve talked about.”

“I guess.”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Of course I’m not happy. So tell me, is Dana supposed to pop back to normal now? Now that Phil’s in town?”

“Well,” Polly stammered, “yes, I would think so.”

“Tell me again why we’re having this meeting?”

Polly nudged Phil. “You can go.” All eyes on Phil again, as he walked out with less than his usual grace and swiftness.

“I just wanted to bring it all forward,” said Polly. “What I know. Surely it’s useful.”

“For what? Teen sex therapy?”

“I wouldn’t put it that—”

“So the kids just pick up the phone and the problem solves itself. Let nature take its course.”