Guilt

“What about it?”

“So far you haven’t told me anything your parents and the cops don’t already know.”

She turned her back on me. Gave a half turn, reversed it. Rotated a bit more and revealed a tight-jawed profile.

“No, I haven’t,” she said.

I sat there.

She said, “I like girls, okay? Like that Katy Perry song, I kissed one and it was more than cherry ChapStick that made me do it? Now I’m in love with someone and that gives me good dreams.”

She faced me. “Do you think I’m weird?”

“Not in the least.”

“They will. The cops will.”

“Can’t speak for your parents but the cops won’t know or care.”

“It’s no one’s business anyway, Doctor. Just mine and Ame- I don’t want my parents to know. Ever.”

“I can understand that.”

“But that’s not realistic, is it?” she said. “I’m their kid.”

“You’re an adult, Heather. What you tell them is your decision.”

“Ha,” she said. “I mean the part about being an adult. Like I’m even close.”

“Legally you are.”

“So if my birthday was next month instead of last month, I’d still be a kid and you could tell them?”

“It can get complicated,” I said. “But I’d never tell them, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“It’s your personal business.”

“But now I am an adult. Cool.” Giggle. “I guess that sucks if it means I have to pay for stuff.”

She turned serious. Touched her cropped hair. “I cut it all off last month. I feel like wearing boy clothes but I don’t have the guts. Think I can get away with boy clothes like in a cute way? So they’ll think it’s just a fashion thing?”

“Keep it subtle enough? Sure.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t show up in a business suit and a tie. And I’d forget the pencil mustache.”

She laughed. “You seem okay but no offense, I don’t think I need you. I already started therapy with someone at student counseling. She’s a total dyke-compared with her, I’m Super-Femme.”

“I’m glad you’ve found someone you trust.”

“I don’t know if I trust her yet. But maybe, we’ll see. So anyway, thanks for trying to help me.”

“Thanks for being open to it.”

“Honestly,” she said, “the only reason I agreed to talk to you was Dad and Mom were bugging me to do it, saying they were finally getting something from their tax dollars. I try to do what they ask if it’s only a small hassle. No offense.”

“Picking your battles.”

“That way I can do what I want when it’s important.”

“Sounds like a good strategy.” Same one I’d used throughout my childhood. Up to the day I turned sixteen and bought an old car and began my escape from Missouri.

She said, “You think it’s okay to play them like that?”

“You’re not playing them, you’re being selective.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I should just be honest-this is who I am, deal.”

“One day you may be able to do that.”

“That’s kind of scary,” she said.

“One day it may not be.”

A creak came from up the hall. The door to Howard Goldfeder’s study opened and he stuck his head out.

Heather said, “I’m fine, Daddy.”

“Just checking.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

He didn’t budge.

“Daddy.”

He went back inside but the door remained ajar. Heather trotted over, pushed it shut, returned. “Do me a favor, Dr. Delaware. Before you leave tell him I look normal. So he doesn’t think I need some Beverly Hills shrink.”

“Will do,” I said.

“You don’t think I need that, right?”

“You’re the best judge of that.”

“Are you saying I’m screwed up but you don’t want to piss me off?”

“Everything you’ve told me says you’re reacting normally. The fact that you’re already in therapy says you know how to take care of yourself.”

“What about my running?”

“Sounds like you like to run. So do I.”

“That’s it?”

“Do you eat normally?”

“Yes.”

“Do you binge and gag yourself in secret?”

“No.”

“In general, do you think life’s going okay?”

“Yes.”

I shrugged.

She said, “Are you like … super-supportive to everyone?”

“I don’t read minds, Heather, so all I can go on is what you tell me and what I observe about you. If there’s some secret problem you’re not telling me about, I could be missing something. But so far you’re not setting off any alarms.”

“Okay … do you like talk directly to the police?”

“Not about what patients tell me-”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” she said. “I’m talking about crimes. Like if someone tells you something and wants you to tell the cops, what do you do, just get on the phone?”

“You bet.”

“And then the police come to see that person?”

“Sometimes,” I said. “But the police can’t force anyone to talk to them. Even a suspect.”

“Like on TV. You have the right to remain silent.”

“Exactly.”

She sat back down. “Okay. I have something. It’s probably not important, I was going to call them, then I said why bother, it’s probably nothing. Then I wasn’t sure if I was doing a wrong thing. But since you’re here, anyway …”

She exhaled. “It’s not some big clue or anything but the night before, I was near the park. Pretty close to where I found her but outside the park, on the other side of the fence.”

“On the street.”

“I wouldn’t think anything about it, but with what happened … I mean it was so close. If you could walk through the fence, you’d be right there in seconds.”

Her right hand tugged at the fingers of her left. “I was with someone. Parked in my car. My parents were out late, a party in Newport Beach. I figured it would be a good time to … then I chickened out of using the house so we went driving and we parked. Not that we were doing anything, we were just talking.” She colored. “Kissing a little, that’s it. Just hanging out, it was nice. Until someone drove by and slowed down. Then they drove away and came back and slowed down again. Like they were checking us out. We got the frick out of there. Think we were in