Sacred Sins

normal life, and he does seem a great deal better. We told him about the baby, and his reaction was encouraging. He's going to help me paint the nursery.”
    “I'm glad to hear that, Mr. Monroe. My feeling is, however, that he's far from ready to pull out of therapy. In fact, I still believe he would be helped a great deal by some time in the clinic we discussed.”
    “Lois is completely opposed to the clinic. I'm sorry, Dr. Court, and I do appreciate your concern, but I have to back her on this.”
    Anger surged, barely controlled. Couldn't he see it was the boy he had to back up? That they both had to back up? “I understand that you feel you should show Joey a united front. But, Mr. Monroe, I can't stress enough how vital it is for Joey to continue to receive consistent professional help.”
    “And, Dr. Court, there's also the risk of overanalyzing. Joey isn't drinking, he isn't hanging around with the same crowd he was when he was drinking. He hasn't even mentioned his father in two weeks.”
    The last statement had alarm bells ringing in her head. “The fact that he hasn't mentioned his father only means he's repressing his feelings. His emotional state at this point is very tenuous. Can you understand, when there is little self-esteem, suicide becomes almost easy? I'm afraid—no, I'm terrified of what he might do.”
    “Dr. Court, I can't help but think you're overreacting.” “I promise you, I'm not. Mr. Monroe, I don't want to see Joey become a statistic. What I want, more than anything, is for his therapy to stop, when he's ready. It's both my professional opinion and my gut instinct that he's not.”
    “I'll see if I can convince Lois to bring him back for another session.” But even as he said it, Tess recognized the dismissal. Some other boy might slash his wrists or swallow a bottle of pills, but not Joey.

    “Mr. Monroe, has anyone asked Joey if he wants to continue seeing me?”
    “Dr. Court, I can only promise to look into this.” Impatience came through now, with a trace of annoyance. “I'll use whatever influence I have to see that Joey comes back for at least one more session. I think you'll see for yourself how much better he is. You've been very helpful, Doctor, but if we feel Joey is well, then the sessions should be stopped.”
    “Please, before you do anything, would you get a second opinion? Perhaps you're right not to take my word for it. I can recommend several excellent psychiatrists in the area.”
    “I'll talk to Lois. We'll consider it. Thank you, Dr. Court, I know you've helped Joey a great deal.”
    Not enough, she thought as the connection broke. Not nearly enough.
    “Dr. Court. Mr. Grossman is here.”
    “All right, Kate. Send him in.” She took Joey's file, but didn't put it away. Instead she set it aside on her desk, within easy reach.

    I T was nearly five when the last patient left for the day. Kate stuck her head in the door. “Dr. Court, Mr. Scott didn't schedule his next appointment.”
    “He doesn't need one.”
    “Really?” Kate relaxed against the door. “You did good work there, Dr. Court.”
    “I like to think so. You can take his file out of current patients.”
    “It's a pleasure.”
    “Do it tomorrow, Kate. If you hurry you can get out of here exactly one minute early.”
    “Watch me. Good night, Dr. Court.”

    “Good night, Kate.” When the phone rang she reached for it herself. “I've got it. Go on home, Kate.” With her hand on the receiver, she took a long breath. “Dr. Court.”
    “Hi, Doc.”
    “Ben.” A layer of tension dissolved. She heard background noises of phones, voices, and typewriters. “Still at work?”
    “Yeah. I wanted you to know I'd be a while yet.”
    “You sound tired. Did something happen?”
    He thought of the day he'd put in and the stench he wasn't sure would ever wash off his skin. “It's been a long one. Look, why don't I pick up some pizza or something? Things should be wrapped up here in another hour or so.”
    “Okay. Ben, I'm a good listener.”
    “I'll keep that in mind. Go straight home and lock the door.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “See you later, smartass.”
    It wasn't until she hung up that Tess realized how quiet the office was. Normally she would have appreciated an hour in the evening to herself. Her desk could be put in order, paperwork could be finished up. Now the quiet seemed too close and too thick. Calling herself a fool, she picked up the Scott file to close it out. Success was