Turning to go back downstairs, he saw Melanie staring at him. How long had she been there, he wondered?
“We need to talk,” she said.
And they did.
CHAPTER 15
Riley stood as Amanda was introduced by her assistant. She smiled weakly and said, “How’s my expert witness today?”
Amanda looked at her and shrugged. “Jake’s waiting. What do you need me to do today?”
Riley figured it was too much to ask to make any real progress in a week’s time, but she would continue to try. She had not slept much last night, and the alcohol hangover still tugged at her brain even this late in the afternoon.
“Let’s just have a seat, shall we?”
Amanda took the same seat she had before and remained silent. “Rough night?”
“You’re so good for my esteem,” Riley replied, smiling thinly.
After an awkward moment of silence, Riley made the first move.
“Amanda, I wrote down last night the four or five things you said bothered you most about your relationship with your father.” She held up a yellow legal pad of paper. “Missed child support, no visitation, mean to your mother and grandmother, always created problems, and disrupting stuff, whatever that means.”
“Well, exactly, like if I had something planned, he would plan something on top of it. That happened a lot, and it got to the point where I, you know, just had to put a stop to it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we took my dad to court to reduce his visitation.”
“You did what?” Riley was open-jawed. Her arm dropped limply off the side of the chair. Her David Yurman bracelets rattled around her wrist like a slinky.
“It got to the point, like, I would want to go to a soccer game with some friends or maybe even a trip to the mall, and dad would say he had already planned stuff. So I just took control of my life.”
“Took control of your life… by cutting your dad out of it? How is that taking control?”
“One less distraction.”
Riley thought she might be ill. Clearly the evidence that Zachary had never missed a child support payment had not been enough to convince her that she needed help, though she had suspected this might be the case. Riley was now convinced that she had been a victim of what was called parental alienation syndrome or PAS. There were emerging fields of study that were making some, but not much, headway in the courts. A few judges were beginning to listen to arguments of noncustodial parents who were being carved out of their children’s lives by scheming custodial parents. The child was nothing but a tool, a weapon, in the fight. The children were the hidden threat, the argument ran. They were unknowing spies who were taught to lead a life of double agency.
The custodial parent was able to shape the child’s world and scale her prism the way an optometrist measures eyesight and fits a pair of glasses. The mother, in this case, became the lens through which Amanda viewed the world. Amanda’s personality lived in the shadow of her mother’s rage.
Riley had handled several similar cases and had even testified as a witness in family law court. After reviewing the files of the Amanda Garrett case, and now speaking to Amanda in person, she suspected that she had not seen any case quite so intricate or elaborate.
“Well, I made this list yesterday of bad stuff. Let’s make a list of good stuff,” Riley chirped cheerily. She grabbed her pen and rested her hand atop the legal pad.
“Short list.”
“A short list is better than no list,” she responded.
“No list. I was being sarcastic the first time.”
“Boy, I missed that,” Riley sighed. She thought to herself that she could rattle off pages of Zach Garrett’s high quality attributes: honorable, loyal, loving, compassionate, funny, sensitive, strong…
“Hello?” Amanda was waving a hand in front of her face.
“I’m sorry. I just find it rather unbelievable that you have nothing good to say about your father. No good memories, nothing?”
Amanda shrugged. “There’s nothing there, nothing to say.”
After a moment, she relented. “Okay, let’s do it your way, then. Tell me all the bad stuff.” She leaned forward when she spoke, as if wanting to hear a secret. “What’s the second worst thing he ever did to you?”
“Like I was saying, he would always be trying to pull me away from my friends and even stuff my mom and Nina had planned, especially in the summer.”
“Did your father have any visitation rights in the summers? Most divorce decrees include at least a few weeks for the noncustodial parent.”
“I guess he didn’t want any block of time, but he would watch my schedule, you know, and then plan stuff over top of it.”
“How does one watch your schedule, dear?” Riley sounded a bit like Audrey Hepburn when she asked the question. She even smiled at her own authentic throaty voiced impersonation.
Amanda looked at her and screwed up her face. “You can be really strange.”
“I know, don’t you love it?” It was all an act. It had to be. The weight she was carrying was so heavy that she had to skim along the surface. If, for an instant, she allowed herself to get in touch with her own feelings in the presence of Amanda, it would be fatal to any potential therapist-client relationship. Riley wasn’t confident that one was going to develop, but Amanda was here today, and that was a good sign.
“Whatever. Mom would tell Dad when I had stuff planned and then at the last minute he would plan on top of that. He never asked for any blocks of time in the divorce decree; that’s what mom said.”
Amanda looked up at Riley, as if to recognize a point that Riley would make. Amanda continued. “But we did hide sometimes; you know, leave the house when he said he was coming, because I already had stuff locked in, you know, planned, paid for and all that good stuff.”
“You hid from your dad? How long has that been going on?”
“Ever since I can remember. I mean, if he’s not supposed to be there, then what was I supposed to do? He’s in the Army, and Mom kept telling me he could get violent.”
“Violent? Did you ever see anything like that?”
“No. Well, maybe once.” Amanda seemed to reel back in time. Riley was particularly interested that she seemed to have only negative memories of her father. Parental alienation syndrome labeled this “the programming effect.” If a parent repeats the same message over and over again to a child, they will emphatically believe it as true. If the Soviet Union could do it to millions of people, then certainly one parent could abuse the trust of a child and easily accomplish the same task, Riley had written in one of her books.
“Go ahead,” Riley urged in a soft voice.
“Well, I don’t remember it all that well, but Dad had come down and forced Mom to drive to the local elementary school to meet him. He was taking me for the weekend somewhere; I can’t remember where, or when, for that matter. I just remember being in the back of Nina’s car, and Mom getting out to talk to Dad like she was asking him for something. Dad was shaking his head, then Mom ran back into the car real quick, and Nina hauled ass in the car.”
“What did you hear from the back seat, Amanda? Surely your mother and grandmother spoke of the incident as you drove away?”
Amanda sat speechless for a minute. Riley could see she was clearly struggling to recall the incident. She placed a box of tissues next to Amanda with the reach of an arm. Amanda looked at the Kleenex as if it were an unwanted nuisance.