A Map of the World - Jane Hamilton [198]
“Dr. Eugene Bailey told us that when a child is afflicted with Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, often that child’s basic assumptions about his surroundings and himself have been upset. The child’s belief in his personal invulnerability is shaken, he no longer has the perception of the world as meaningful, and he can also no longer see himself as positive,” Rafferty said.
“I agree with that assessment,” Theresa said.
“Mrs. Collins, I realize that you are not a psychologist, but I respect your twelve-year career as a family therapist. According to the state’s expert, Robbie was suffering from PTSS. Having read the case records, and in your experience, knowing Robbie and his family as you do, would you agree with Dr. Bailey’s diagnosis?”
“Yes.”
“Based on your training and experience and your reading of the court record, would you also say to within a reasonable degree of therapeutic certainty, that Robbie Mackessy exhibits some of the symptoms of a character-disturbed child?”
“Yes, I do, Mr. Rafferty.”
“Unattached children lie even when caught red-handed, do they not?”
“Quite often, yes. It is as if the child confuses the way he wishes life were with the way it actually is.”
“In your experience, Mrs. Collins, do you think it likely that a six-year-old boy who’d seen his mother engaged in sex would experience trauma?”
Mrs. Dirks objected, and for the first time Rafferty raised his voice. “Your honor,” he shouted, “I am asking a hypothetical question!”
“Yes. Quite definitely,” Theresa was able to answer.
“Is it your opinion that the child might experience terror not only for himself, but also for his mother. Might he be afraid for her life?”
“Absolutely.”
“Is it possible that a young boy might imagine himself in the same danger as his mother? That a young boy might have the fear of that danger?”
“I think it’s possible, Mr. Rafferty.”
“If that boy, in his worst fantasy, imagines himself in his mother’s helpless position, might he invent a situation in which he triumphs over the danger, the evil?”
“Children often fantasize about conquering robbers, bullies—the bad guys.”
I wondered if the jurors were thinking about what it must have been like for Robbie to come up the basement stairs, when his mother called him, coming up the stairs and sitting down at his place. Maybe they were imagining prim Grinder in the den, trying to figure out how to rewind the VCR. Mrs. Mackessy might have had her robe on while she fried up hamburgers on the range. The fan wasn’t on, and the doors were closed, and the room smelled of grease and cigarettes. Were they going to force him down on his knees? the boy might have wondered. “Where’ve you been?” she might have barked at him. “I thought you were over by the Sheridans.” She didn’t look as if she’d been hurt. He couldn’t tell, exactly, if she was angrier than usual. “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” He wanted to tell her that, if it would make her feel better, he’d kill Grinder for her, that that’s why he showed Mrs. Sheridan, so that Mrs. Sheridan could call the police and take the stranger away. He thought they’d be arriving any minute, with sirens and flashing lights. But when Grinder came into the kitchen, she started slamming down plates in front of the man, as if she wanted to feed him up. He couldn’t tell if she liked him or not, the way she was slamming the plates down. He didn’t understand it, any of it, and he wondered if someone did those terrible things to him, if she’d feel worried about him, and afterward slam plates down in front of him and feed him full of good things. He remembered the time he got his hand stuck in the car door. She’d been mad that he’d been clumsy but she’d also sat with him at the doctor’s office tickling his ear. It was confusing, the way she was being so nice and noisy,