It was still difficult to get excited about that holiday, but it seemed wrong now to do anything that would darken the mood or block out the light that had come trickling into our world with the promise of a better tomorrow.
Later, feeling bad about how mean I had been to Lila, I called her and explained why I had been upset and how both Aaron and I had been punished. I didn’t mention what I had done with Count Piro, and she seemed to know not to bring him up in our conversation. We gossiped instead about the others at Audrey’s party, and I finished by promising to do more with her during the week, especially since Aaron wouldn’t have his car. I decided not to mention the possibility of my inviting him to dinner. She would wonder why I wasn’t inviting her, too.
Aaron was waiting for me in the lobby at school the following morning. Probably before we had reached my homeroom, the story about our “unauthorized” Saturday all-day date had spread with hurricane speed to all our classmates. I hadn’t sworn Lila to secrecy, and Aaron had told some of his friends, because he knew they’d be asking about his car and why he wasn’t driving it. Before the day ended, we had become the “hot couple.” I saw it in the expressions and heard it in the voices of my girlfriends. Apparently, no one needed my confirmation or would believe any denial concerning how intimate Aaron and I had become. For most of my girlfriends, I seemed to have grown in stature. I enjoyed the way they were treating me and decided to let them embellish my romance.
The rest of the week wasn’t going fast enough for either Aaron or me. We had to spend our time after school talking only on the phone, and a few times, I had to do it while Lila was visiting and doing homework or studying for a test. She pretended not to be listening closely, but I knew she was hanging on every word. Aaron was getting his car privileges back on Friday, and although Grandpa didn’t mention inviting him to dinner again, I began to drop hints with him that Friday would be nice, since the following week was Thanksgiving and we’d break for the holiday at midday on Tuesday. Grandpa didn’t say yes or no.
I thought that might be because he seemed to be having a busier week than usual, and his mind was occupied with other things. On top of what was happening at the trucking company, he was apparently meeting regularly with Dr. Patrick and had, with Dorian, arranged for a tutor, a Mrs. Crystal, who was a retired grade-school teacher. She was gone before I got home after school every day, but I saw how Count Piro was diligently working on what she had given him to do. She had brought him workbooks for vocabulary and English grammar, math and science, and reading. Dorian would be helping him, too. By Wednesday, I saw how alert he had become because of all this new interaction. He was sitting at the table again for dinner.
At Dr. Patrick’s request, no one pressured him with questions about his past or his identity. The first time I referred to him as Count Piro caught everyone’s attention. Looking right at him across the table, I explained how much he had enjoyed the fable and how, just like Willie liked to be called Batman sometimes, he didn’t mind being called Count Piro.
“Am I right, Count Piro?” I asked him.
He nodded. Grandpa looked at Dorian, and they both seemed pleased. I certainly was. I had found a way never to call him William.
I hadn’t realized it, but Grandpa was waiting to discuss with Dr. Patrick whether it was wise yet to invite a stranger to dinner, especially a teenage boy. On Thursday afternoon, as soon as I entered the house, Myra informed me that Dr. Patrick was waiting for me in the living room, the way she had been the first time we met.
“Hi,” she said immediately. I thought she looked more relaxed and friendlier.
“Hi.” I stood for a moment and then sat in Grandpa’s chair. “Anything wrong?”
“Oh, no. Just the opposite. I’m so happy to hear you’ve embraced the situation more. To me, that shows real maturity, Clara Sue. There’s so much in life that annoys us or disturbs us, and it’s how we handle those things that makes the difference in the end and helps balance our emotions.”
“You mean, like you’re handling me,” I said, and she laughed.
Then she put up her hands. “No more psychiatrist’s lingo. I promise.”
“Some of it I don’t mind,” I said with a
shrug. I had been doing some reading on the side to see if I could determine how much Count Piro was really suffering and how much was pretend. I even began to wonder if pursuing a career in psychotherapy was possible for me.
“Okay. I think you’ve broken through a little with him, and I think that will lead to some promising results. Your grandfather has told me that you want to invite a boy to dinner tomorrow night, and chances are, William . . . oh, what do you call him? Count . . .”
“Piro. After the fable I read him.”
“Right.” She smiled “Very clever.” She nodded at me. “I promise another thing, not to underestimate you. Anyway, getting back to exposing our Count to more people, especially a teenage boy. I think that could be very good. What I would like to see, however, is no one cross-examining him. For now, no direct questions about him or his past. Too much pressure on him can set him back. Can you explain that to . . .”
“Aaron, Aaron Podwell. He’s a senior, and he’s sensitive enough to understand, especially in the presence of my grandfather,” I added. “Anyway, it’s more of a truce dinner between him and my grandfather and me.”
“I heard.”
“Yes, I’m a real rebel. But with a cause,” I said, tucking in the corners of my mouth.
She nodded, obviously thinking about what to say next. “I’m not here to give you any personal advice, but . . .”
“But?”
“But I’m also a woman who has a history full of disappointments and successes, anger and elation.”
“You’re not going to tell me now that you’ve been to a psychiatrist, too?”
“Oh, yes. That’s part of our training, our education.”
“Really? Okay, what personal advice do you have for me, Dr. Patrick?” I challenged.
“Call me Katherine.”
“Katherine.”