Tuesday, 6:00 P.M.
OLIVIA SHIFTED IN THE BLACK LEATHER RECLINER OPPOSITE DR. EHRENBURG and idly wondered how many hours she’d racked up in this office. Her mom made her start coming when she was—what? Maybe four?—after she started insisting on calling Carlotta “Mommy” and her mother “Mrs. Wair-nair.”
Olivia had told Dr. E. about finding Mr. Tut.
“That must have been awful.”
Olivia was positive Dr. E. had had some work done. The lines that looked like giant parentheses on either side of her mouth were gone; so were the puffy bags under her eyes, which Olivia missed. They made Dr. E. look kindly. Dr. E.’s wedding band had also disappeared, and all Olivia’s mother’s friends went straight to a plastic surgeon the minute their marriage tanked.
“Everybody thinks Tut was murdered,” Olivia blurted out.
“Why is that?” Dr. E.’s tone remained calm like always.
“My friends say cops are questioning everybody. Forensics guys were all over Tut’s office—there’s yellow tape across the door. I mean, that’s not like—normal…. Grant wanted to see him yesterday, to make amends.” Olivia noticed a tiny tag of cuticle on her left index finger, ripe for picking. She tried to ignore it and bit the inside of her cheek instead. “My parents don’t know Grant was in—I’m worried he had a slip.”
“He shouldn’t be breaking rehab rules, Olivia, but that doesn’t mean he got high.”
“I know. It’s just that he got nervous telling me what time he went back to New Haven. I’m scared he stayed late….”
“We’ve talked about this before. You don’t trust your brother, not yet…. So sometimes jumping to the worst possible conclusion is almost like a defense, like preventive medicine. If you think the worst—for instance, Grant getting high—then it can’t have happened. Does what I’m saying make sense?”
“Yeah, totally!” Olivia relaxed in the chair. Dr. E. always made her feel better, like she wasn’t crazy…. Or that she was crazy but her fears were irrational. Once she’d asked Dr. E. what all the numbers at the bottom of each bill meant. It was some kind of diagnosis code for insurance purposes, Dr. E. had explained. “Your number means ‘anxiety disorder.’ It’s very common. Don’t let it upset you.”
Just the opposite. Olivia liked knowing there was a name other than “pyscho” for the way she acted…and that other people acted the same way too.
TO: alice.lorimer@yale.edu
FROM: bookperson43@aol.com
Alice, honey,
You may have already heard from Nate but Mr. Tut died and I thought you’d want to know. So sad and very hard to think of Chaps without him.
No news except that I miss you which is, of course, no news!
xxxxxMom
Dad called last night wanting to know what in particular he’s done lately to tick you off. Told him I didn’t have a clue.
TO: bookperson43@aol.com
FROM: alice.lorimer@yale.edu
Yes, Mom. I heard and feel very sad. Let me know when the funeral is and I’ll try to come down. I loved Tut.
As for your former husband, no, there’s no new offense. I think you and Nate have never come to grips with your anger and that’s NOT just the pysch major in me talking.
Memo
SAFETY MEASURES AT SCHOOL
FROM: Jonathan Edwards Marshall, Headmaster
Because of the three so-called S.W.A.K. murders, many parents have asked what steps Chapel School is taking to ensure a safe environment. We have taken several important measures, but I do want to remind the community:
We are being proactive:
I urge parents of students in the upper grades who sometimes remain at school in the evening to make sure children exercise proper caution. Children should leave in a group and have arranged transportation home.
There is no reason for panic. We are confident that your children are safe at Chapel School.
Message on Rannie’s answering machine
Rannie, this is Celina Grey, your Parent Rep. This is a reminder about the safety meeting at school tonight. It’s at six o’clock. I hope you’ll be able to attend. Jem will also address false rumors surrounding Mr. Tut’s death.