Chapter 27: Grief Counseling, Part I

October 17, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

“I need your advice on grief counseling,” I said.

“Caroline?” Bethany asked.

“Duh!” I said shaking my head.

“Sorry, but I did need to make sure I hadn’t missed something else.”

“I suppose having your training kick in makes sense, because that’s what I’m asking for.”

“I’m going to say something that will probably have you out of that chair with your hands around my throat, and I’m not talking about erotic strangulation.”

I sighed, “Go on.”

“All you can do is listen. She has to do the rest. Sound familiar?”

“Eight fucking years of school, a year of clinical training, and three years of practice, and you tell me to listen and she has to do the work? Fuck you, Bethany!”

“Do we have it out of our system now?” Bethany asked with a twinkle in her eye.

I took a deep breath. Then another.

“Yes. Sorry. That’s pretty much what Doctor Mercer did with me. And encouraged me to write in my journal.”

“Why?”

“Because only I can answer the ultimate question of my own mortality and what Birgit’s death meant to me. Or Stephie’s. Or Nick’s. Or Don Joseph’s, for that matter.”

“Yes. And what was all the training?”

“On how to get someone to talk about something so painful that they don’t want to talk about. Or so embarrassing. Or so personal.”

“Yes. There’s more, of course, such as recognizing true mental illness and dealing with that. But often that ends up with psychiatrists because of the need for drugs. I can’t prescribe, so if someone actually does need lithium or some other psychoactive drug, I have to refer them to someone who can prescribe them. I sometimes fudge that in cases of clinical depression and get one of my doctor friends to do a full physical and evaluation and then prescribe mild anti-depressants. If that doesn’t work, then they get referred to a psychiatrist.”

“How much do you know about Caroline’s treatment?”

“Only what her mother told me. She saw a couple of physicians, a neurologist, two psychologists, and a psychiatrist. They all tried the normal treatments and therapies, but nothing worked. And both Caroline and her mom both balked at any heavy psychoactive drugs.”

“So what helped her come out of that state we saw in San Diego?”

“A combination of time and her mom. Getting her to come here was a good thing, even if you hadn’t used your patented ‘cry on my shoulder’ therapy. According to Kimberly, Caroline has up days and down days, and the few days she was here were up days. Then she went home and acted on what you and I both told her to do - try to reconnect with a friend or two. That also helped.”

“But she hasn’t been able to talk to anyone?”

“Hasn’t been willing. If I had to hazard a guess, she saw you in San Diego, saw how you were helping me, heard what you and Jesse said about Nick, and then when she came here, found a friendly ear and an available shoulder.”

“And now?”

“If I could predict that, I could tell you exactly what to do. You’re going to have to wing it. Just be very careful with your decisions. Don’t rule out any options and don’t commit to any specific course of action other than letting her cry and talk. If she acknowledges what happened to Nick, that will be the first time she’s said it to anyone. She almost said it to you last time.”

“She came very close, yes.”

“If she says it, that will break the dam. And you’ll have a girl who is a complete emotional wreck on your hands.”

“One who can’t consent,” I said.

“I thought you might come to that conclusion,” Bethany said.

“And forget that! There’s a bigger problem that NOBODY has raised, not even me. How could I be so dumb! Without an STD test, there is NO WAY I can even consider the option you’ve implied might be appropriate.”

“Promise no hands around the throat before I finish explaining?”

I sighed, “What is it with you and that statement? Are you telling me I should go for erotic asphyxiation? That seems dangerous and WAY too close to violence! Heck, that first night in San Francisco bordered on violence.”

Bethany smirked, “When I begged you to fuck me hard, and kept saying ‘harder’ until the point where you bruised the inside of my thighs, I’d say that absolved you of any responsibility for that! And it was raw sex, not violence. You know the difference as well as I do.”

“Yes, but NOW what are you telling me?”

“After Caroline was here, and she kissed you, I talked to Kimberly about the risks Caroline might have run after Nick’s death and encouraged her to get Caroline tested, both for STDs and narcotics. I did NOT expect Caroline to come here again. I advised that course of action simply because I was concerned she might engage in risky behavior, seeking to cure her depression with alcohol, drugs, sex, or all three. It was NOT about you.”

“Fine, I’ll accept that explanation. But consent?”

“A tricky situation, at best,” Bethany said.

“No kidding. Especially given what you’ve taught me over the years. This won’t be an acquiescence issue, but one of mental competence. And given her mental state, I can’t see that she’ll be able to consent.”

“Follow your own ‘Prime Directive’ - do the least harm possible. That should override EVERY other consideration.”

“Even this one?”

“Yes. You’ll do the right thing. You did with Samantha. A girl who couldn’t consent. But did.”

“I don’t see the two situations as even remotely the same!” I protested.

“Was Samantha emotionally able to consent?”

“I don’t think so.”

“What would have happened if you turned her down?”

“Oh no you don’t! No ‘What if?’ games!”

“Humor me. Where would she be right now if you’d turned her down?”

“With her dad,” I sighed. “But we’re basically dealing with an accidental success. Not something I would have tried to orchestrate.”

“I understand. I’m not telling you to do it or that you should do it, just don’t foreclose the possibility it might be the right thing.”

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” I said.

“Do you believe that?”

“No,” I sighed. “No, I don’t.”

October 21, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

“Mr. Adams? This is Principal Monroe.”

I suppressed a sigh. I was reasonably sure what this was about. Rachel. It had to be.

“Good afternoon, Principal Monroe. How may I help you?”

“We had an incident today that I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Rachel Marie Rizzi,” I said.

“Then she is your daughter?”

“No, she most definitely is not! I have two separate DNA tests to prove conclusively she is not as well a declaration of non-parenthood from the courts. I also have a restraining order against her mother which requires her mother to stay away from me. But I don’t want to hurt the little girl in ANY way. Her mother is misleading her for unknown reasons. May I know what happened?”

“She and Jesse were having a disagreement about that. She said you were her dad and Jesse said you weren’t. I guess she wouldn’t let it go.”

I sighed, “If your mom told you that a man was your father from the time you were born, what would you do?”

“I see your point, but I’m not sure how to deal with this. I tried to talk to Rachel’s mom first, but she was adamant that Rachel was your child.”

“I know. Let me talk to Jesse. They won’t be in any of the same classes, will they?”

“No. This was at lunch. They don’t have the same recess.”

“Can you ask the teachers to simply keep them apart? Jesse will do what I ask him to do.”

“They’ll be in the same school for several more years, and you have another son in kindergarten.”

“Yes, and next year, Birgit will be five and start kindergarten. And the year after that, Michael, Matthew’s little brother, and Albert, another son, will be in kindergarten. The year after that, Stephie. And the year after THAT, Ashley. And soon enough, you’ll have my kids’ friends, too.”

“This could be a serious problem if the little girl continues to insist to your children that she’s also your daughter.”

“I know. Please work with me on this and don’t do anything to hurt the little girl. If you can just keep them apart at lunch, I’ll take care of Jesse and Matthew.”

“OK, Mr. Adams. I’m sorry I made a bad assumption.”

I chuckled, “How could you not? I have seven kids by four mothers! One more wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t. While I have you on the phone, I will say that both Jesse and Matthew are wonderful young men.”

“Thank you. Let me know if there are any other concerns.”

We hung up and I immediately dialed Gwen Meyer. I explained what had happened and asked her advice.

“If you would let me, I’d go to the judge who issued the restraining order, but you’ve forbidden me from doing that.”

“Yes, because I do NOT want Rachel harmed in any way. She’s being hurt badly enough by Carla’s, well, insanity. I’m going to talk to Jesse, but I wonder if you might have a word with my arch-nemesis and ask him to have a word with his client. We both know how this ends if she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she’d be forced to withdraw Rachel from the school because the restraining order would be enforced on her as well.”

“Let’s find something short of that, please.”

“I’ll do what I can, but obviously the DNA tests, court rulings, and restraining order haven’t changed Ms. Rizzi’s mind on the matter.”

“True,” I sighed.

At home that evening, Matthew, Elyse and I went to the coach house to see Jesse and his moms.

“Jesse, I talked to your principal today. Did Rachel bother you?”

“Yes! She said you’re her dad! I said you weren’t. She started yelling at me and I did what you said and walked away. She followed me and I asked her to stop, but she wouldn’t. Then the teachers came.”

“You did the right thing, Jesse. Both you boys just stay away from her, please. The teachers will tell her to stay away from you, too. Her mom is lying to her about me being her father. We don’t know why. Please just ignore her if she says anything.”

“But we shouldn’t lie!” Matthew protested.

“No, we shouldn’t. But please let the teachers handle it. OK?”

“Yes, Dad,” they both said.

“Why don’t you boys go see Abbie so your moms and I can talk, please?”

They got up from the couch and went back to the main house.

“That woman is impossible!” Jennifer said. “How do we make her stop this?”

“We’ve tried everything,” Elyse said. “And we’ve run into dead-ends. Steve’s theory is that Dustin Brady is Rachel’s father, but he died, so there is nothing we can do there. DNA tests, court rulings, and a restraining order haven’t worked. Short of putting a hit on Carla, I don’t know what we can do!”

“I did ask Gwen Meyer to call Brandon Littleton to see if he’d have a word with Carla, but I think the chances of THAT are vanishingly small, if not zero. What I don’t want is for Rachel to suffer because her mother is obsessed with a fiction.”

“Maybe a private word with her from one of us would work?” Josie said.

“A threat?” I asked. “I wouldn’t suggest that. If she told Littleton about that, we could be in a world of hurt. He’s probably still smarting from the outcome of the BLS situation. I don’t want to cross swords with him again, even if I ultimately would come out victorious.”

“How did you leave it with Principal Monroe?” Jennifer asked.

“That I’d talk to Jesse and Matthew. We just did that. They’re good boys and will do what I asked them to. And Principal Monroe agreed to have the teachers keep Rachel away from them at lunch. We’ll have to talk to each of the kids when they start school because Rachel will be there until she finishes eighth grade, and she’s only in second grade now.”

“A hit is starting to sound like a good idea,” Jennifer said. “Whatever happened to your friend that ran the deli in Milford?”

I chuckled, “He retired to Arizona. And I have NO idea what you’re talking about!”

Jennifer smirked but said nothing more.

“Well, all we can do is wait now,” Elyse said.

“I’ll send Jesse back to you,” I promised.

Elyse and I left the coach house and went to the main house. I sent Jesse back to his moms so he could have dinner with them and I wasn’t surprised when Elyse pulled me into my study.

“What was THAT about?”

“Jennifer had some inklings of what I was doing back in Milford. But notice she referred back to Milford. She has NO idea about anything else. And neither do you!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just leave it be.”

October 23, 1992, Chicago, Illinois

“This is going to be very strange,” I said.

“Just take it one step at a time,” Bethany said. “When she comes off the Jetway, just say ‘hello’ and offer to take her carry-on bag. Let her determine the pace.”

“But should we have the conversation tonight? I was thinking tomorrow after I come back from my time with Sensei Ichirou made the most sense. I have breakfast with the guys before that.”

“I think that makes sense. Tonight, just get her settled in the guest room and have her spend some time with family. By the time we get home, it’s going to be time for dinner.”

“I was wondering about my usual Friday night with Samantha,” I said.

“I wouldn’t change anything in your routine at this point.”

Caroline’s flight showed as ‘arrived’ on the board, and about ten minutes later, she came through the security doors.

“Hi,” I said. “I’ll take your bag if you want.”

“Hi! Thanks.”

She handed me her bag and then she and Bethany greeted each other. The three of us began walking towards the short-term parking and my car. Caroline was quiet, and stayed that way during the drive home. At home, other than greeting everyone, Caroline was mostly mute. During dinner, she’d answer direct questions, but only with short answers. She seemed to be about the same as she had when she’d been in Chicago in August.

After dinner, everyone gathered in the great room. Caroline looked very unhappy, so I invited her to come sit in my study.

“Are you avoiding me?” she asked.

“No. I figured after your trip and everything, you should relax. We’ll have all afternoon and evening tomorrow, and Sunday until noon to talk. I told your mom I have to be at karate practice tomorrow.”

“I came to see you,” she said, sounding very sad.