Turn of Mind - Alice LaPlante [24]
Yet this boy—this young man—Mark’s freshman-year roommate from Northwestern, saw possibilities. I had always been alert for predators, but Eric slipped below my radar. Too sallow, too diffident, without any of the charm or resentment I associated back then with successful seducers.
What happened between them I don’t know. Fiona wouldn’t tell me. Was her heart broken? Did she catch a venereal disease? Did she have an abortion? Any of those were likely, but I think it was probably something less melodramatic. I thought at the time she was merely helping him through a statistics course. Amanda thought something similar. She thought Fiona had taken pity on him for his social clumsiness. It didn’t occur to either of us that Fiona needed anything from Eric. It just wasn’t what one thought about Fiona.
I ended it one night, after I caught them together sitting on the front steps. I wasn’t spying, hadn’t even thought about them, just opened the door and there they were. He had a petulant look on his face, the kind of don’t-you-love-me face that young men like to pull. Not one I would have thought Fiona would be susceptible to. Then I saw her expression. Not love. No. Something worse. A kind of despairing responsibility. A tortured acceptance of a heavy burden.
It took every ounce of my strength not to kick that young man in his bony buttocks. I can still picture his aggrieved shoulders as he leaned toward Fiona, willing her to give him some of her strength. And she looked back at me, saw that I saw, and the weight seemed to evaporate from her body as I shook my head. No.
Later that night she accused me, in tears, of ruining her life. And so we played out that particular mother-daughter scene with a gusto that fooled both James and Mark. But we knew what was going on. A timely rescue, met with gratitude.
I find a letter next to my morning pills and juice. My name on it, no address. No stamp. Two pages of unlined notepaper, tiny cramped writing. I read it through once, then again.
Mom:
I’m sorry my last visit didn’t end so well. I never even got to the real reason I came over. But, in fact, the episode just proves the point I wanted to make. It’s really time to sell the house and move into assisted living.
What’s more, it’s time for me to exercise the medical power of attorney. I know you don’t want this. You value your independence. With Magdalena’s help, 65 percent of the time you do well. But the other 35 percent of the time!
The ongoing investigation into Amanda’s death is a real worry. The fact that it’s even a question that you might have been involved—not that I believe that, of course—is reason enough to make this move.
Do I believe that you are a danger to others? No. Do I believe you are a danger to yourself ? Yes, I do. I suspect I don’t hear everything. I suspect that Magdalena and Fiona keep things from me.
You gave me this power. I didn’t ask for it. But, having been given it, I intend to fulfill my duties. You could take it away, of course. You could do what Fiona is trying to convince you to do (yes, I read through your notebook last time I was there) and strip me of this power. But I think you know it would be a mistake.
About Fiona. I worry about her. Almost as much as I worry about you. As I said when I saw you, you know how she gets. How she does really well for long periods of time, but then things can go south—very very quickly. Remember that time at Stanford? When Dad had to go get her so she could decompress in a safe place?
Anyway, I know Fiona tells you otherwise, but I truly have your best interests at heart. The police have had you in for questioning multiple times. I know that if they had anything at all on you they wouldn’t hesitate to try you as a competent adult.
I worry about you a lot. I know I don’t always express it in the most diplomatic way. As we’ve discussed many times, I’m not Dad. I’m not the silver-tongued corporate finance lawyer, just a grunt. But I do care.
Legally, as you once knew (and maybe