'Eric,' I said.
'So my father was right.'
'About what?'
'The cop who was here to talk to him. My father said he's your friend. He informs you, you inform him. Didn't you think that would be a problem, Dr. Delaware?'
'Stacy, I spoke to your father about that and he-'
'You didn't speak to me about it.'
'We haven't spoken at all. I was planning to bring it up when you arrived.'
'And if I told you I didn't like it?'
'Then I'd drop off the Mate investigation. That's exactly what I planned to do until your father asked me not to. He wanted me to continue.'
'Why would he want that?'
'You'd have to ask him, Stacy.'
'He told you to continue?'
'In no uncertain terms. Stacy, if it's a matter of trust'
'I don't get it,' she said. 'When he told me about the cop, he seemed angry.'
'At something Detective Sturgis did?'
'At being questioned like a criminal. And he's right. After all we went through with my mother, to be harassed by the police. And now I find out you're working with them. It just seems… wrong.'
'Then I'm off the investigation.'
'No,' she said. 'Don't bother.'
'You're my patient, you come first.'
Pause. 'That's the other thing. I'm not sure I want to be your patient nothing to do with you. I just don't see why I need therapy again.'
'So the appointment was all your father's idea?'
'Same as all the other appointments no, I don't mean that. Before, once I got into it, it was good. Great. You helped me. I'm coming across so rude, I'm sorry. I just don't see that I need any more help.'
'Maybe not,' I said. 'But can we at least sit down once to discuss it? I've got time right now if you can make it over.'
'I don't know. Things are pretty intense what exactly did your cop friend tell you about Eric?'
'That Eric hadn't returned to his dorm for a couple of days. That he'd missed a test.'
'More like a day and a half,' she said. 'It's probably no big deal, he was always going off on his own.'
'Back when he was living at home?'
'Back to ninth or tenth grade. He'd cut school without explanation, take his bike somewhere, disappear all day. Later, he told me he used to check out used-book stores, play pool on the pier, or go over to the Santa Monica courts and listen to trials. The school used to phone, but Eric always got away with it because his grades were so much higher than anyone else's. Once he got his driver's license, he'd go away overnight, not come home till morning. That got to my father. Waking up in the morning and finding Eric's bed still made and Eric gone. Then Eric would drive up at breakfast time, start toasting Pop-Tarts, and the two of them would get into hassles, my father demanding to know where Eric had been, Eric refusing to say.'
'Did your mother get involved?
When she was still healthy, she'd take my father's side. But Dad's always been the main one.
Was Eric ever punished?'
'Dad made threats kept warning he'd take away Eric's car keys, but Eric shined him on. Everyone knew he wouldn't follow through.
Why not?'
'Because Eric's his golden boy. Any time Dad complains about him, all Eric has to say is, 'What? Aren't straight A's good enough? Want me to get higher than sixteen hundred on the SAT?' Same for Pali Prep. He was their big advertisement. Perfect GPA, Bank of America Award winner, National Merit Scholar, Prudential Life Scholar, Science Achievement winner, hockey team, fencing team, baseball team. When he interviewed for Stanford, the interviewer called our headmaster and told him he'd just encountered one of the great minds of the century. So why would they want to tick him off?
So you're not worried about him,' I said. 'Not really… The only thing that does bother me is his missing an exam. Eric always took care of business, academically speaking… Maybe he just decided to hike.
Hike?'
'Back when he was living at home and stayed out all night, he'd sometimes come home with mud on his shoes, looking pretty dusty. At least one time I'm sure he was out camping. This was maybe a year ago, when he was home taking care of Mom. Our rooms are next to each other, and when he came in I woke up, went to see what was going on. He was folding up this nylon tent, had this backpack, bag of potato chips and candy, pep-peroni sticks, whatever. I said, 'What's all this, some kind of loner-loser picnic?' He got angry and kicked me out of his room. So maybe that's what he did last night-went out hiking. There are lots of nice places around Palo Alto. Maybe he just wanted to get away from the city lights so he could look up at the stars. He used to love astronomy, had his own telescope, all these expensive filters, the works.'
I heard her breath catch.
'What is it, Stacy?'
'I was just thinking… We had a dog, this yellow mutt named Helen that we got from the pound. Eric would take her with him on long walks, then she got old and lost the use of her legs and he built her a little wagon thingie and pulled her around-pretty funny-looking, but he took it seriously. She died-a year before Mom. Eric stayed out all night with her. That's got to be what happened. When I asked him about it, he said he did his best thinking late at night, up in the mountains. So that's probably it, he's a little stressed, decided to try that. As far as the test, he probably figured he could talk his professor into a makeup-Eric can talk his way into anything.'
'Why's he stressed?'
'I don't know.' Long silence. 'Okay, to be honest, Eric's having a real hard time. With Mom. He had a terrible time with it right from the beginning. Took it much worse than I did. Bet that's not what my father told you, though. Right?'
My son deals with his anger by organizing… I think it's a great way of handling stress… Get in touch with how you feel, then move on.
'We didn't discuss Eric in detail,' I said.
'But I know,' she said. 'Dad thinks I'm the screwed-up one. Because I get low, while Eric does a great job of looking okay on the surface-keeping up his grades, staying achievement-oriented, saying the right things to my father. But I can see through that. He's the one who took it really hard. By the time my mother died, I'd already done my years of crying, but Eric kept trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Saying she'd get better. Sitting with Mom, playing cards with her. Acting happy, like nothing was any big deal. Like she just had a cold. I don't think he ever dealt with it. Maybe hearing about Dr. Mate brought the memories back.'
'Did Eric talk about Mate?'
'No. We haven't talked at all, not for weeks. Sometimes he e-mails me, but I haven't heard from him in a while… One time-toward the end of my mother's… a few days before she died, Eric came into my room and found me crying, asked what was the matter. I said I was sad about Mom and he just lost it, started screaming that I was stupid, a wimp and a loser, that falling apart would accomplish nothing, I shouldn't be so selfish, thinking about my own feelings-wallowing in my feelings was the phrase he used. It was Mom's feelings I should be concentrating on. We all needed to be positive. To never give up.'
'He was tough on you,' I said.
'No big deal. He yells at me all the time, that's his style. Basically, he's this big huge brain machine with the emotions of a little kid. So maybe he's having some sort of delayed reaction, doing what he used to do when he got uptight. Do you think I should be worried about him?'
'No, but I think you did exactly the right thing by calling your father.'
'Walking in on that detective… Guess what my father did? Chartered a plane and flew up to Palo Alto. He looked worried. And that bothers me.'
'He doesn't get worried too often?'
