Mother was a first-rate homemaker. Back when that meant something.”
“They drank recreationally.”
“They drank to wind down after long, grueling workdays. Yes, it was excessive. No, it doesn’t excuse
her
lifestyle choices. I grew up in the same environment and I am a teetotaler. Furthermore, I’ve never seen Connor indulge in more than a single beer, cocktail, or glass of wine. He says so, explicitly, when waiters attempt to peddle a refill. ‘I’m a one-drink guy.’ So don’t let her avoid responsibility by blaming Mother and Father.”
“Did your parents’ behavior change when they drank?”
“Not really,” she said.
I said nothing.
“I’m telling you, there were no drastic changes, Doctor. Not in a way one would consider unexpected.”
“The change was predictable.”
“She went to sleep. He did, as well.” Tug on a hair wave. “Except for those very few times when his mood got the best of him. In any event, that’s not relevant to the current issue: my sister’s fitness. Or lack thereof.”
I pictured her, sitting at her desk, trying to study. Wondering if tonight books would get turned into confetti.
I’d lived through worse, could well understand wanting to blockthat out. If she hadn’t decided to wrest her sister’s child away, she’d never have been forced to confront the past.
But …
I said, “Your father’s moods changed when he drank.”
“Wouldn’t anybody’s?” she said. “All right, he could get a bit … surly. But never violent. No matter what you’ve heard.”
“No child abuse.”
“Not one instance. Did
she
claim that?”
“Still,” I said, “that kind of unpredictability can be frightening to a child.”
“It wasn’t unpredictable, Doctor. One knew that when he drank there was a distinct possibility of some sort of mood upset.”
Now her lips did cooperate and she flashed me a wide, engaging smile.
“In fact,” she said, “the entire issue made me curious. The precise rate of mood upsets. I decided to approach the question scientifically. Began keeping records and attained a result. Thirty-two point five percent of the time he’d grow surly.”
“About a third of the time.”
“Not about, Doctor. Precisely thirty-two point five. My data collection was meticulous. I went over it, trying to see if I could find a pattern. Day of the week, time of day, any other variable. I came up with nothing and I believe it was at that point that I decided to devote myself to science on a cellular level rather than deal with anything as imprecise as human behavior. So you see, Father did me a favor. By directing me to what has turned out to be a rewarding career path, he proved extremely helpful.”
“Lemons into lemonade.”
“Now contrast that, Doctor, with
her
. Blaming everyone but herself for her deficiencies. It’s fortunate that we’re talking about this because it allows you to delineate the difference between myself and my sister: Iface reality, she escapes. Well, this is one time she’s not going to find that quite so easy, eh? Now, what else can I help clarify?”
“Nothing,” I said.
She flinched. Smiled. “I’ve given you more facts than you expected? Well, that’s fine. And here’s a written record of all the background material I’ve just presented verbally, so you can take your time, study carefully, really educate yourself.”
A black-bound folder emerged from the briefcase. She placed it next to my appointment book, squaring the volume’s edges with those of the desk. “This has been a very
profitable
hour. Good day.”
CHAPTER
7
Next step: a home visit to Cherie Sykes and her daughter.
She lived in a studio apartment near Western and Hollywood, a five-hundred-square-foot share of a not-so-great ten-unit building in a marginal neighborhood.
She was ready at the door, beckoning me inside with a flourish. The air smelled of Lysol and I assumed she’d prepped for the appointment.
Not much to tidy. A foldout bed
“They drank recreationally.”
“They drank to wind down after long, grueling workdays. Yes, it was excessive. No, it doesn’t excuse
her
lifestyle choices. I grew up in the same environment and I am a teetotaler. Furthermore, I’ve never seen Connor indulge in more than a single beer, cocktail, or glass of wine. He says so, explicitly, when waiters attempt to peddle a refill. ‘I’m a one-drink guy.’ So don’t let her avoid responsibility by blaming Mother and Father.”
“Did your parents’ behavior change when they drank?”
“Not really,” she said.
I said nothing.
“I’m telling you, there were no drastic changes, Doctor. Not in a way one would consider unexpected.”
“The change was predictable.”
“She went to sleep. He did, as well.” Tug on a hair wave. “Except for those very few times when his mood got the best of him. In any event, that’s not relevant to the current issue: my sister’s fitness. Or lack thereof.”
I pictured her, sitting at her desk, trying to study. Wondering if tonight books would get turned into confetti.
I’d lived through worse, could well understand wanting to blockthat out. If she hadn’t decided to wrest her sister’s child away, she’d never have been forced to confront the past.
But …
I said, “Your father’s moods changed when he drank.”
“Wouldn’t anybody’s?” she said. “All right, he could get a bit … surly. But never violent. No matter what you’ve heard.”
“No child abuse.”
“Not one instance. Did
she
claim that?”
“Still,” I said, “that kind of unpredictability can be frightening to a child.”
“It wasn’t unpredictable, Doctor. One knew that when he drank there was a distinct possibility of some sort of mood upset.”
Now her lips did cooperate and she flashed me a wide, engaging smile.
“In fact,” she said, “the entire issue made me curious. The precise rate of mood upsets. I decided to approach the question scientifically. Began keeping records and attained a result. Thirty-two point five percent of the time he’d grow surly.”
“About a third of the time.”
“Not about, Doctor. Precisely thirty-two point five. My data collection was meticulous. I went over it, trying to see if I could find a pattern. Day of the week, time of day, any other variable. I came up with nothing and I believe it was at that point that I decided to devote myself to science on a cellular level rather than deal with anything as imprecise as human behavior. So you see, Father did me a favor. By directing me to what has turned out to be a rewarding career path, he proved extremely helpful.”
“Lemons into lemonade.”
“Now contrast that, Doctor, with
her
. Blaming everyone but herself for her deficiencies. It’s fortunate that we’re talking about this because it allows you to delineate the difference between myself and my sister: Iface reality, she escapes. Well, this is one time she’s not going to find that quite so easy, eh? Now, what else can I help clarify?”
“Nothing,” I said.
She flinched. Smiled. “I’ve given you more facts than you expected? Well, that’s fine. And here’s a written record of all the background material I’ve just presented verbally, so you can take your time, study carefully, really educate yourself.”
A black-bound folder emerged from the briefcase. She placed it next to my appointment book, squaring the volume’s edges with those of the desk. “This has been a very
profitable
hour. Good day.”
CHAPTER
7
Next step: a home visit to Cherie Sykes and her daughter.
She lived in a studio apartment near Western and Hollywood, a five-hundred-square-foot share of a not-so-great ten-unit building in a marginal neighborhood.
She was ready at the door, beckoning me inside with a flourish. The air smelled of Lysol and I assumed she’d prepped for the appointment.
Not much to tidy. A foldout bed
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