Shrink Rap
Page 19
Copeland nodded.
“The bond between you is powerful,” he said.
“It is,” I said. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t know where it will lead, but you are obviously still connected.”
It was what I had always thought. Now it had been certified, stamped yes. I sat quietly and looked at the yes from every perspective. It was a large, attractive yes. I nodded, more to myself than to Copeland.
“Melanie Joan is having trouble with this,” I said.
Copeland tilted his head again.
“If I can get her to come, will you see her?”
“Yes,” he said. “If she wishes to come, have her call me.”
“I’m not certain I can get her to call you. Maybe I could arrange it and bring her?”
“If she hasn’t the commitment to call,” Copeland said, “she won’t have the commitment to come.”
“Do I hear a cliché about to surface?” I said.
He smiled slightly. It made me feel triumphant.
“You do,” he said. “Unless she wants help, she can’t get it.”
“And calling you would be the first sign of commitment.”
“Yes.”
“Okay,” I said. “Should I advocate?”
“Haven’t you already?”
“Yes.”
“Then she knows what you think.”
“So it’s up to her.”
“It is,” Copeland said.
“What if she doesn’t come?”
“If she needs it badly enough, she’ll do it,” Copeland said.
I nodded slowly. Everything he said seemed so reasonable and why-didn’t-I-think-of-that? On the other hand that had been true of Melvin when I was Sonya Burke.
“You know what’s sort of funny,” I said.
He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows a little and waited.
“When I was seeing Dr. Melvin, and I knew he was a rapist and probably a murderer, he still helped me see things about myself.”
“Being corrupt doesn’t make him incompetent,” Copeland said.
“No. But…”
“You are also very quick and intuitive,” Copeland said. “You have a very fine mind.”
“I didn’t think I was going to get into this when I came,” I said. “I thought I was coming to fill you in on what happened with Melvin, and to see if you were willing to help Melanie Joan.”
“I’m sure you had those reasons, too,” Copeland said.
“We’ve talked about this before.”
“Yes.”
“It has to do with my father and mother,” I said.
Copeland smiled, bless his heart, and said, “How unusual.”
Then he shifted a little in his chair and glanced at his watch.
“Time?” I said.
“I’m afraid so,” Copeland said.
“Am I still scheduled at this time next week?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe I should come back,” I said.
“Maybe you should,” Copeland said.
“We’ll talk,” I said.
Outside, the day was not very cold for January. A thin snowcover melted in the winter sun. There were some squirrels in the trees. I looked up at the sky. It was cloudless.
On my way home I checked my answering machine on the car phone.
You have one new message.
“Sunny, it’s Tony Gault. I’m in town, at the Four Seasons, and I have a large rolling donut I don’t know what to do with. Suggestions?”
I listened to the message again and smiled. He certainly wasn’t reliable. But he had been fun. Time to branch out. Time to give in to impulse. Time to give Tony a second chance. And if it turned out not to be time… nothing wrong with fun.