SAD TRUTH : Had she been just a patient, I probably wouldn't have remembered her.
All those years listening, so many faces. There was a time I recalled every one of them. Forgetting comes with experience. It doesn't bother me as much as it used to.
Her mother phoned my service on a Saturday morning soon after New Year's.
"A Mrs. Jane Abbot," said the operator. "She says her daughter's an old patient. Lauren Teague."
Jane Abbot's name meant nothing to me, but Lauren Teague sparked an uneasy nostalgia2. It was an 818 number, somewhere in the Valley. When I'd known the family they'd lived in West L.A. I searched my old case files before returning the call.
Teague, Lauren Lee. Intake3 date, ten years ago, the tail end of my Wilshire Boulevard practice. Shortly after, I cashed in some real estate profits, tried to drop out, met a beautiful woman, became friends with a sad, brilliant detective, learned more than I wanted to know about bad things. Since then I'd avoided the commitment of long-term therapy cases, stuck to court consults and forensic5 work, the kinds of puzzles that removed me from the confines of my office.
Lauren had been fifteen at referral. Thin file: one history-taking meeting with the parents followed by two sessions with the girl. Then a missed appointment, no explanation. The next day the father left a message canceling any future treatment. Unpaid6 balance for the final session; I'd made a halfhearted effort to collect, then written it off.
When old patients get in touch it's usually because they're doing great and want to brag7, or exactly the opposite. Either way they tend to be people with whom I've connected. Lauren Teague didn't qualify. Far from it. If anything, I was the last person she'd want to see. Why was her mother contacting me now?
Presenting problems: poor school achiev., noncompliance at home. Clin. impressions: fath. angry; moth1, possib. deprssd. Tension bet moth and father—marital strss? Parents agree re: Lauren's behavior as the prim8. prob. Uneventful birth hx, only child, nosig. health probs., contact pediatric M.D. to verify. School: per Mom: "Lauren's always been smart." "Used to love to read, now hates it." B— aver9, till last year, then "change of attitude," new friends—"bums" (fath), some truancy10, C's and D's. Basic mood is "sullen11." "No communic." Parents try to talk, get no resp. Suspect drug use.
As I leafed through the file, Jane and Lyle Teague's faces came into semifocus. She, thin, blond, edgy12, a former flight attendant, now a "full-time13 mom." A heavy smoker—forty-five minutes without tobacco had been torture.
Lauren's father had been slit-eyed, blank-faced, reluctant to engage. His wife had talked fast . . . nervous hands, moist eyes. When she'd looked to him for support, he'd turned away.
They were both thirty-nine, but he looked older. . . . He'd done something in the building trades . . . here it was, elect, contractr. A powerful-looking man, fighting the advent14 of middle age with long hair, sprayed in place, that fringed his shoulders. Black pelt15 of beard. Muscles made obvious by a too-tight polo shirt and pressed jeans. Crude but well-balanced features . . . gold chain circling a ruddy neck . . . gold I.D. bracelet—how did I remember that} Put him in buckskins and he could've been a grizzly16 hunter.
Lyle Teague had sat with his legs spread wide, consulted his watch every few minutes, fondled his beeper as if hoping for intrusion. Unable to maintain eye contact—lapsing into dreamy stares. That had made me wonder about attention deficit17, something he might've passed on to Lauren. But when I raised the topic of academic testing, he didn't stir defensively, and his wife said Lauren had been examined two years before by a school psychologist and found to be "normal and extremely bright."
"Bright," he said, putting no praise into the word. "Nothing wrong with her brain that a little discipline won't cure." Accusing glance at his wife.
Her mouth twisted, but she said, "That's what we're here to learn."
I said, "Mr. Teague, do you think anything else is going on, besides Lauren's being spoiled?"
"Nah, basic teenage garbage." Another look at his wife, this time seeking confirmation19.
She said, "Lauren's a good girl."
Lyle Teague laughed threateningly. "Then why the hell are we here?"
"Honey—"
"Yeah, yeah, fine."
He tried to tune20 out, but I stuck with him, finally got him talking about Lauren, how different she was from the "cute little kid" he'd once taken to job sites in his truck. As he reminisced, his face darkened and his speech got choppy, and by the end of the speech he pronounced his daughter "a real hassle. Hope to hell you can do something with her."
Two days later Lauren showed up in my waiting room, alone, five minutes late. A tall, slender, conspicuously21 busted22, brown-haired girl, treated kindly23 by puberty.
Fifteen, but she could've passed for twenty. She wore a white jersey24 tank top, skimpy, snug25 blue-denim shorts, and ludicrously high-heeled white sandals. Smooth, tan arms and long, tan legs were showcased by the minimal26 clothing. Pink-polished toes glinted at the tips of her sandals. The strap27 of a small black patent leather purse striped a bare shoulder. If she'd been studying the hookers on Sunset for fashion tips, she'd learned well.
When young girls flaunt28, the result is often a comic loss of equilibrium29. Lauren Teague seemed perfectly30 at ease advertising31 her body—like father, like daughter?
She favored her father in coloring, her mother in structure, but bore no striking resemblance to either. The brown hair was burnt umber sparked with rust32, thick and straight, hanging halfway33 down her back, parted dead center and flipped34 into extravagant35 wings at the temples. High cheekbones, wide mouth glossed36 pink, dominant37 but perfectly proportioned cleft38 chin, heavily lined, azure-shadowed blue eyes—mocking eyes. A strong, straight, uptilted nose was dashed by freckles39 she'd tried to obliterate40 with makeup41. Lots of makeup. It stuccoed her from brow to jaw42, creating a too-beige mask.
As I introduced myself she breezed past me into the office, taking long, easy strides on the impossible heels. None of the usual teenage slump— she held her back straight, thrust out her chest. A strikingly good-looking girl, made less attractive by cosmetics43 and blatancy44.
Selecting the chair closest to mine, she sat down as if she'd been there a hundred times before. "Cool furniture."
"Thank you."
"Like one of those libraries in an old movie." She batted her lashes45, crossed and recrossed her legs, threw out her chest again, yawned, stretched, folded her arms across her torso, dropped them to her sides suddenly, a cartoon of vulnerability.
I asked why she thought she was there.
"My parents think I'm a loser."
"A loser."
"Yup."
"What do you think of that?"
Derisive46 laugh, toss of hair. Her tongue tip skated across her lower lip. "May-be." Shrug47. Yawn. "So . . . time to talk about my head problems, huh?"
Jane and Lyle Teague had denied previous therapy, but Lauren's glib-ness made me wonder. I asked her about it.
"Nope, never. The school counselor48 tried to talk to me a couple of times."
"About?"
"My grades."
"Did it help?"
She laughed. "Yeah, right. Okay, ready for my neurosis?"
"Neurosis," I said.
"We have psych this year. Stupid class. Ready?"
"If you are."
"Sure. I mean—that's the point, right? I'm supposed to spit out all my deep, dark secrets."
"It's not a matter of supposed to—"
"I know, I know," she said. "That's what shrinks always say—no one's gonna force you to do anything."
"You know about shrinks."
"I know enough. Some of my friends have seen 'em. One of them had a shrink give her that shi— That stuff about never forcing her, then the next week he committed her to a mental ward49."
"Why?"
"She tried to kill herself."
"Sounds like a good reason," I said.
Shrug.
"How's your friend doing?"
"Fine—like you really care." Her eyes rolled.
I said nothing.
"That, too," she said. "That's the other shrink thing—just sitting there and staring. Saying 'Ah-ah' and 'Uh-huh.' Answering questions with questions. Right?"
"Uh-huh."
"Very funny," she said. "At what you charge, I'm not coming here forever. And he's probably gonna call to make sure I showed up and did a good job so let's get going."
"Dad's in a hurry?"
"Yeah. So give me a good grade, okay? Tell him I was good—I don't need any more hassles."
"I'll tell him you cooperated—"
"Tell him whatever you want."
"But I'm not going to get into details, because—"
"Confidentiality50, yeah, yeah. It doesn't matter. Tell them anything."
"No secrets from Mom and Dad?"
"What for?" She played with her hair, gave a world-weary smile. "I've got no cool secrets anyway. Totally boring life. Too bad for you—try not to fall asleep."
"So," I said, "your dad wants you to get this over with quickly."
"Whatever." She picked at her hair.
"What exactly did he tell you to accomplish here, Lauren?"
"Get my act together, be straight—be a good girl." She laughed, arced one leg over the other, placed a hand on a calf51 and tickled52.
"Be straight," I said. "As in drugs?"
"They're paranoid about that, along with everything else. Even though they smoke."
"They smoke dope?"
"Dope, tobacco. Little after-dinner taste. Sometimes it's booze— cocktails53. 'We're mature enough to control it, Lauren.'" She laughed. "Jane used to be a stewardess54, working all these fancy private charters. They've still got this collection of tiny little bottles. I like the green melon stuff—Midori. But I'm not allowed to touch pot till I'm eighteen." She laughed. "Like I'd ever."
"Pot's not for you?" I said.
"Pot's boring—too slow. Like hey, man, let's pretend we're in the sixties, get all wasted and sit around staring at the sky and talking about God." Another gust55 of laughter, painfully lacking in joy. "Pot sure makes them boring. It's the only time she slows down. And he just sits and veges on the TV, munches56 nachos, whatever. I'm not supposed to be talking about their bad habits, I'm the one who needs to change."
"Change how?"
"Clean my room" she singsonged. "Do my chores, get ready in the morning without calling my mom a bitch, stop saying 'fuck' and 'shit' and 'cunt.' Go to class and pay attention, build up my grades, stop breaking curfew, hang out with decent friends, not low-life." She rotated one hand, as if spooling57 thread.
"And I'm supposed to get you to do all that."
"Lyle says no way, you never will."
"Lyle."
Her eyes got merry. "That's something else I'm supposed to not do. Call him by his name. He hates it, it drives him crazy."
"So no way you'll stop."
She played with her hair. "Who knows what I'll do?"
"How does he react when you do things that irritate him?"
"Ignores me. Walks away and gets involved in something else."
"He has hobbies?"
"Him? Only thing he does is work, eat, smoke dope, stuff his face, watch TV. He has no faith in me. In you, either." Conspiratorial58 smile. "He says shrinks are just a bunch of overpaid clowns who can't screw in a light bulb by themselves and I'm gonna just end up conning59 you like I con4 everybody. He's only paying for this because Jane's really getting on his nerves with all her nagging60."
"Mom has more faith in shrinks?"
"Mom's totally worried," she said. "Mom likes to suffer. They're— Here's a juicy one for you: They only got married 'cause they had to. One day I was looking for a bra in Jane's drawer and I found their wedding license61. Two months before my birthday. I was conceived in sin. What do you think of that?"
"Is it a big deal to you?"
"I just think it's funny."
"How so?"
"Here they are being all moral and . . . whatever." Lifting the tiny black purse, she undid62 the clasp, peered inside, snapped it shut.
"Mom likes to suffer," I said.
"Yeah, she hates her life. She used to work private charters, fly all around the world with superrich people. She regrets ever coming down to earth." She shifted to the edge of the chair. "How much longer do I have to be here?"
Rather than pick apart the fine points of free choice, I said, "Half an hour."
Opening the purse again, she pulled out a compact, checked her reflection, plucked an eyelash and flicked63 it away.
"Half an hour," she said. "No way do I have half an hour of problems—want to hear all of them?"
"Sure."
She launched into a long, droning speech about stupid girlfriends getting on her case, stupid ex-boyfriends foolish enough to think they were still in her good graces, stupid teachers who didn't know anything more than the students, stupid parties, a stupid world.
Talking nonstop in the flat tones of a rehearsed witness, looking everywhere but at me.
When she was through I said, "So everyone's getting on your nerves."
"You've got that right. . . . How much longer now?"
"Twenty-five minutes."
"Shit. That much? You should have a clock up there. So people can keep track."
"Usually people don't want to."
"Why not?"
"They don't want to be distracted."
She favored me with a bitter smile, scooted forward on the chair. "Well, I want to leave early. Okay? Just today. Please. I've got some people waiting for me, and I need to get home by five-thirty or Jane and Lyle're gonna freak out."
"People waiting for what?"
"Fun."
"Friends are picking you up."
She nodded.
"Where?"
"I told them to meet me a block from here. So can I^o?"
"Lauren, I'm not forcing you—"
"But if I split early you'll fink, right?"
"Look," I said, "it's a matter of twenty minutes. As long as you're here, why not make good use of the time?"
I expected protest, but she sat there, pouting64. "That's not fair. I told you everything. There's nothing wrong with me."
"I'm not saying there is, Lauren."
"So what's the point?"
"I'd like to learn more about you—"
"I'm not worth learning about, okay? My life's boring, I already told you that." She ran her hands over her torso. "This is it, all of me, nothing exciting."
I let several seconds pass. "Lauren, is everything really going as well as it could for you?"
She studied me from under grainy, black lashes, reached into the purse again, and extricated65 a pack of Virginia Slims.
When she produced a lighter66, I shook my head.
"Oh, c'mon."
"Sorry."
"How can you do that? People coming here all stressed out. Don't they complain—wasn't Jane climbing the walls? She's a chimney."
"Mostly I see kids and teens," I said. "People manage."
"Kids and teens." She gave a short, cold laugh. "Every teen I know smokes. Are you allergic67 or something?"
"Some of my patients are."
"So why does everyone have to suffer because of a few? That's not democracy."
"It's consideration," I said.
"Fine." She jammed the pack back into the purse. "How much time left now?"
收听单词发音 |
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moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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intake
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| n.吸入，纳入；进气口，入口 | |
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con
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| n.反对的观点，反对者，反对票，肺病；vt.精读，学习，默记；adv.反对地，从反面；adj.欺诈的 | |
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forensic
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| adj.法庭的，雄辩的 | |
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unpaid
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| adj.未付款的，无报酬的 | |
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brag
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| v./n.吹牛，自夸；adj.第一流的 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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aver
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| v.极力声明；断言；确证 | |
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truancy
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| n.逃学，旷课 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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edgy
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| adj.不安的；易怒的 | |
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full-time
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| adj.满工作日的或工作周的，全时间的 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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grizzly
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| adj.略为灰色的，呈灰色的；n.灰色大熊 | |
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deficit
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| n.亏空，亏损；赤字，逆差 | |
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smirked
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| v.傻笑( smirk的过去分词 ) | |
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confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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busted
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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jersey
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| n.运动衫 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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minimal
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| adj.尽可能少的，最小的 | |
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strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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flaunt
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| vt.夸耀，夸饰 | |
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equilibrium
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| n.平衡，均衡，相称，均势，平静 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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advertising
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| n.广告业；广告活动 a.广告的；广告业务的 | |
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rust
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| n.锈；v.生锈；(脑子)衰退 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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glossed
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| v.注解( gloss的过去式和过去分词 )；掩饰（错误）；粉饰；把…搪塞过去 | |
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dominant
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| adj.支配的，统治的；占优势的；显性的；n.主因，要素，主要的人(或物)；显性基因 | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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obliterate
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| v.擦去，涂抹，去掉...痕迹，消失，除去 | |
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makeup
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| n.组织；性格；化装品 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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blatancy
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| 喧哗 | |
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lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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counselor
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| n.顾问，法律顾问 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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confidentiality
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| n.秘而不宣，保密 | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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tickled
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| （使）发痒( tickle的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）愉快，逗乐 | |
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cocktails
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| n.鸡尾酒( cocktail的名词复数 )；餐前开胃菜；混合物 | |
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stewardess
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| n.空中小姐，女乘务员 | |
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gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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munches
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| v.用力咀嚼（某物），大嚼( munch的第三人称单数 ) | |
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spooling
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| n.络纱，络筒v.把…绕到线轴上（或从线轴上绕下来）( spool的现在分词 )；假脱机（输出或输入） | |
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conspiratorial
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| adj.阴谋的，阴谋者的 | |
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conning
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| v.诈骗，哄骗( con的现在分词 )；指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
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nagging
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| adj.唠叨的，挑剔的；使人不得安宁的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的现在分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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license
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| n.执照，许可证，特许；v.许可，特许 | |
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62
Undid
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| v. 解开, 复原 | |
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63
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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64
pouting
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| v.撅（嘴）( pout的现在分词 ) | |
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65
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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67
allergic
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| adj.过敏的，变态的 | |
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