dinner I ’ m free. Eight tomorrow night, that fit with your schedule?
Nod.
Writing in something beside where the scratching was.
He may not want to come, you ’ re sure you can be here?
I don ’ t know that the s u n will rise, Doctor Lorber—but I promise you this: the boy will most definitely be here …
The next evening, in front of the large house, Frank Jr. said, “ I ’ m not gonna talk to no kike. ”
Haggerty hit him hard across the side of the head. “ You don ’ t call me a mick, you don ’ t call me a spud, you don ’ t call him a kike. ”
“ A hebe then. ”
Haggerty raised his hand to strike again.
“ Well he ’ s a Jew, I can ’ t be talking to one of them. ”
Haggerty dropped his hand. “ Oh, are you wrong, ” he said, and, grabbing his son by the elbow, steered him to the door and rang. Doctor Lorber answered, the three of them talked briefly, then Frank Jr. followed the placid man into the office.
Haggerty waited the hour.
They came quietly out, and Frank Jr. asked if he could go outside. Doctor Lorber nodded. The boy left them. Tomorrow night might be beneficial, same time all right?
Haggerty hesitated. I did some checking.
Always get another opinion, Frank.
You cost.
I know. Outrageously. More than anyone, I hope. It helps my ego.
It ’ ll have to be installments.
Hmm?
I haven ’ t got a lot of money.
Well fortunately I have, Frank, so leave my finances to my accountant why don ’ t you. Tomorrow night then?
Is he going to be all right?
Can ’ t talk to you, Frank; medical ethics, you understand?
Frank didn ’ t, but he said tomorrow night would be fine.
He brought the boy again the following evening, waited the hour. The third session, the next Tuesday, Frank thought for a moment, that as he waited he heard, ever so briefly, tears. But he wasn ’ t sure. But on the fourth session, he was.
Analysis, if it ’ s anything, is an inexact science, and supportive therapy is lucky when it reaches that level. And there were no Joan Crawford moments for Frank Jr., no epiphanies. But after the sixth session it wasn ’ t necessary for his father to come along on the weekly meetings. And after four months, the meetings themselves stopped. Frank Jr. wore no halo—he was just an ordinary average run-of-the-mill fucked-up teen-ager now.
Dear Doctor Lorber:
Last night at dinner the boy talked about college. Not for long, and he was cautious, but the word did pass his lips.
I don ’ t know what someone with my skills could ever do for someone with yours. But I pray for the opportunity.
Yours Frank Haggerty. Sr.
Not much of a note but it took Haggerty three days to get the thoughts down. Not three solid days, he did other things. But his mind was always on what he wanted to write. He mailed it fully confident that he would never hear from the great Doctor Lorber again.
It took a number of years. But he heard.
“ Detective Haggerty, please. ”
“ Yes. ” It was the receptionist prune.
“ Detective Frank Haggerty? ”
“ Speaking. ”
“ Doctor Lorber was wondering if you could find some spare time to— ”
“ —just tell me when— ”
‘ Tonight ”
It was definitely not the prune who opened the door that evening. Haggerty stood outside the Foundation, perspiring heavily in the June night as this vision appeared in the doorway. Tall, nineteen maybe, athletic build, black hair, skin like Merle Oberon which only made more startling the sea-blue eyes. “ You must be Mr. Haggerty, ” she said.
Haggerty never messed around with women, never even paid attention to the young ones. If I was twenty now, he thought, Fd never have got close to you. He nodded at his name.
She gestured for him please to enter. “ My name ’ s Karen, ” she told him, closing the door. “ I ’ m the daughter. You know where Father ’ s office is? ”
“ I think. ”
“ Is he ever waiting for you. ” She gave him a smile that was as good as the rest of her, turned
Nod.
Writing in something beside where the scratching was.
He may not want to come, you ’ re sure you can be here?
I don ’ t know that the s u n will rise, Doctor Lorber—but I promise you this: the boy will most definitely be here …
The next evening, in front of the large house, Frank Jr. said, “ I ’ m not gonna talk to no kike. ”
Haggerty hit him hard across the side of the head. “ You don ’ t call me a mick, you don ’ t call me a spud, you don ’ t call him a kike. ”
“ A hebe then. ”
Haggerty raised his hand to strike again.
“ Well he ’ s a Jew, I can ’ t be talking to one of them. ”
Haggerty dropped his hand. “ Oh, are you wrong, ” he said, and, grabbing his son by the elbow, steered him to the door and rang. Doctor Lorber answered, the three of them talked briefly, then Frank Jr. followed the placid man into the office.
Haggerty waited the hour.
They came quietly out, and Frank Jr. asked if he could go outside. Doctor Lorber nodded. The boy left them. Tomorrow night might be beneficial, same time all right?
Haggerty hesitated. I did some checking.
Always get another opinion, Frank.
You cost.
I know. Outrageously. More than anyone, I hope. It helps my ego.
It ’ ll have to be installments.
Hmm?
I haven ’ t got a lot of money.
Well fortunately I have, Frank, so leave my finances to my accountant why don ’ t you. Tomorrow night then?
Is he going to be all right?
Can ’ t talk to you, Frank; medical ethics, you understand?
Frank didn ’ t, but he said tomorrow night would be fine.
He brought the boy again the following evening, waited the hour. The third session, the next Tuesday, Frank thought for a moment, that as he waited he heard, ever so briefly, tears. But he wasn ’ t sure. But on the fourth session, he was.
Analysis, if it ’ s anything, is an inexact science, and supportive therapy is lucky when it reaches that level. And there were no Joan Crawford moments for Frank Jr., no epiphanies. But after the sixth session it wasn ’ t necessary for his father to come along on the weekly meetings. And after four months, the meetings themselves stopped. Frank Jr. wore no halo—he was just an ordinary average run-of-the-mill fucked-up teen-ager now.
Dear Doctor Lorber:
Last night at dinner the boy talked about college. Not for long, and he was cautious, but the word did pass his lips.
I don ’ t know what someone with my skills could ever do for someone with yours. But I pray for the opportunity.
Yours Frank Haggerty. Sr.
Not much of a note but it took Haggerty three days to get the thoughts down. Not three solid days, he did other things. But his mind was always on what he wanted to write. He mailed it fully confident that he would never hear from the great Doctor Lorber again.
It took a number of years. But he heard.
“ Detective Haggerty, please. ”
“ Yes. ” It was the receptionist prune.
“ Detective Frank Haggerty? ”
“ Speaking. ”
“ Doctor Lorber was wondering if you could find some spare time to— ”
“ —just tell me when— ”
‘ Tonight ”
It was definitely not the prune who opened the door that evening. Haggerty stood outside the Foundation, perspiring heavily in the June night as this vision appeared in the doorway. Tall, nineteen maybe, athletic build, black hair, skin like Merle Oberon which only made more startling the sea-blue eyes. “ You must be Mr. Haggerty, ” she said.
Haggerty never messed around with women, never even paid attention to the young ones. If I was twenty now, he thought, Fd never have got close to you. He nodded at his name.
She gestured for him please to enter. “ My name ’ s Karen, ” she told him, closing the door. “ I ’ m the daughter. You know where Father ’ s office is? ”
“ I think. ”
“ Is he ever waiting for you. ” She gave him a smile that was as good as the rest of her, turned
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