Part 3 (1/2)
”So we're letting bygones be bygones? Or is this some kind of Trojan horse that gets you across the border into the enemy land?”
”I thought you'd applaud this as-I don't know-diplomacy. Progress.”
”Is this about Celeste?”
He doesn't think so but says, ”You could be right. It did seem like an odd coincidence-Denise losing Glenn and me losing Celeste-”
”Six, seven months apart? Not an earth-shattering coincidence.”
”You're holding my grudge,” says Henry. ”Wouldn't that qualify as reverse transference?”
”No such thing,” she snaps.
”You're forgetting the service that Denise provided, the one you drilled into me, that if she hadn't abandoned me-”
”And kidnapped your child.”
”-and kidnapped my child, I might still be hiding in the closet; i.e., Denise did me a favor, broadly speaking.”
”That clean?” she asks. ”Denise as knight in s.h.i.+ning armor?”
”She's been humbled. Which seems to be bringing out the best in her.”
”Humbled because her husband died?”
”No. Humbled because of a prenuptial agreement.”
”She's broke?”
”Not by most people's standards.” He smiles. ”Go ahead-ask.”
”What do you think I want to ask?”
”You're dying to know: Did she come to me for money?”
”Never crossed my mind.”
”For the record”-and he raises his voice as if dictating directly to the clipboard in her lap-”she did not come to me for money. Besides, I contacted her first.”
”Which I don't necessarily see as a good thing,” she counters.
”You will soon.”
She looks up with a start, as does the deaf black poodle at her feet. ”Thalia?” she asks.
”Thalia,” he confirms.
Ten years before, in late spring, his abandonment and surrender of Thalia had been all he wanted to discuss. At an emergency session Sheri stated, ”You know what triggered this, don't you?”
He had said of course, the math: Thalia was five when the divorce was final, so she had just turned eighteen in June, and therefore must be graduating from high school, imminently.
”Not that,” said his therapist. ”Think again. What have you seen lately?”
”Seen? The inside of my office. Briefs. Second-year law students interviewing for jobs.”
”I won't waste our time,” she had said. ”The reason we're back to Thalia after all these years is that scene where Billy Bigelow's ghost puts his arm around his daughter at her high school graduation and she feels his presence and holds her head up higher. Am I right?”
She was right. He'd seen the revival of Carousel in previews and had devoted a good portion of their next session to the talents of Audra McDonald. ”But,” he countered, ”aren't you supposed to point out that Billy Bigelow triggered some very deep feelings, which most mental health professionals wouldn't dismiss out of hand?”
And now he has dug out the letter a.s.signed but never sent and, in fact, never turned in to Sheri Abrams, harsh vettor of exploratory epistles. In it he had introduced himself as the man who had married the widowed Denise Ellis Wales, mother of Thalia Alexis Wales, whom he'd subsequently adopted and [[strikeout]]cherished loved provided for, all too briefly. The first paragraph was a curriculum vitae, the second a legal thicket, and the third a cri de coeur. He'd loved her as his own true daughter, the only child he'd ever known. He'd been young and selfish when he relinquished his rights and [[strikeout]]now he was alone he'd seen the error of his ways. If he could turn back the clock he'd tear up Glenn Krouch's adoption pet.i.tion and fight it in the courts. Parentheses followed, citing case law. It was a first draft, on yellow legal notepaper, ending with anemic congratulations on finis.h.i.+ng high school. He studies the stillborn postscripts:[[strikeout]] ”I hope you'll accept the enclosed gift certificate If you ever needed anyone to talk to Would you kindly apprise me of your college plans?” which had given way to a more democratic, ”Perhaps at this juncture you are going on to college or starting a job. I'd love to know what your plans are.” And finally, the sentence that was code for I am a man of means and perhaps someone you'd like to know: ”I live in a townhouse on West 75th Street. I've never remarried nor have I had any other [[strikeout]]issue children.”
It was the lone piece of paper in a manila folder marked ”Thalia, Correspondence.” Would it be a terrible idea to bring this draft to lunch on the second, testimony to his long-standing good intentions? He'd explain why he wrote it, and he'd be honest: His therapist believed in homework. This was an old a.s.signment, prompted by a rough patch he'd gone through a decade ago concurrent with her high school graduation and the prospect that she might be independent, reachable, curious.
Would excavating a never-sent letter strike Thalia as creepy? Could he lighten the mood by quoting his therapist implicating Carousel? Yes, because an actress would appreciate the fact that his graduation fixation was inspired by Rodgers and Hammerstein? No, because the word therapist might raise a red flag?
These questions, aired before Sheri Abrams, prompt her to note, ”It isn't like you to weigh every word.”
”I've always done that. Lawyers can't just stand before the bench and prattle.”
”You were never a litigator,” she snaps.
He leans forward in his chair. ”Let's settle this now. Am I going to meet resistance every time I bring up my daughter?”
”What is our goal here?” she asks, staring over her half gla.s.ses. ”Are weekly lunches going to be enough? Then dinners? Then dinners with orchestra seats? And soon enough, in no particular order, a roof over her head and a codicil to your will?”
He inhales sharply. He hasn't dared look past lunch at Trattoria Dell'Arte in two weeks, but ”roof over her head” strikes Henry as a first-rate goal for a delinquent father with a vacant maisonette.
5. On Advice of Counsel.
HIS TRUST ATTORNEY READS the codicil, removes his gla.s.ses, buzzes for a pot of Earl Grey, and finally asks, ”This isn't one of those foolish midlife things that besotted men do, is it?”
”Foolish besotted heteros, maybe. And, George, don't be vulgar. I'm her father.”
”All I'm saying is, what's the rush? Unless you're not telling me something, healthwise.”
”I'm fine,” Henry says. ”Although that's what Glenn Krouch thought, too. Fine one day, on life support the next-”
”Not before remembering her in his will, I understand.”
”In trust! She won't see that money for years. It's beyond insulting, as if she were an irresponsible child.”
”I still think you should give this some time. You're in the honeymoon phase. You don't know if her arms-wide-open embrace is sincere. Or durable.”
”Here's something that might surprise you, George. I wouldn't care! I adopted her once, and I didn't fight for her. On advice of counsel, I might add. I'm putting her back where she belongs, and I'm perfectly capable of adding a codicil without the blessing of my suspicious lawyer.”
”This isn't me talking exclusively as your lawyer, and you know it.”