“She’s been living with this guy!” Jamie shouted.
“Yes, so I understand,” Connie said.
“How can you take this so calmly?”
“I don’t think she’s committed a crime of heinous proportions. She’s...”
“When you were eighteen...”
“When I was eighteen, you seemed singularly intent on doing to me exactly what this boy has done to her.”
“And never got to first base!”
“The times they are a-changin’, dear.”
“I don’t want you transmitting that attitude to Lissie,” Jamie said. “When she calls...”
“If she calls...”
“She’d damn well better call.”
“My God, you sound positively Victorian,” Connie said.
“Oh? Really? My daughter’s...”
“Our daughter.”
“Our daughter’s fucking around with some pimply-faced...”
“Jamie, what the hell’s the matter with you?” Connie asked flatly. “Would you please tell me?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing’s the matter with me.”
And then, as she found him doing more and more often these days, he turned away from her, ending the conversation, ending whatever brief moment of intimacy had been inspired by his daughter’s malfeasance and the revelation of it by the woman in Chicago.
Lissie did not call until that Sunday night, the twenty-second. Jamie picked up the phone in the kitchen, and the moment the operator told him it was a collect call from a Melissa Croft in San Francisco, he yelled to Connie to pick up the extension in the upstairs bedroom. They had barely exchanged hellos when he heard the small click telling him Connie was on the line.
“Lissie,” she said, “are you all right?”
“Yes, fine, Mom,” Lissie said. “Exhausted, but fine.”
“Where are you staying?”
“We crashed with a friend out here. A girl Judy knows.”
“Give me the number there,” Jamie said at once, “and let’s cut the Judy crap.”
“Jamie...”
“Stay out of this, Connie. What’s the number there?”
“Dad?”
“Give me the number.”
“It’s... just a second,” she said. “It’s 824-7996.”
“What’s the area code?”
“415.”
“Thank you. Why’d you lie to us, Lissie?”
“About what?”
“Lissie...” he warned.
“Okay, there’s no Judy, okay?”
“No, there’s a Judd.”
“Yes.”
“And a Joshua, and Christ knows how many...”
“Just Judd and Joshua.”
“Are you sleeping with both of them?”
“Jamie!”
“Or just Judd?”
“Come on, Dad.”
“Jamie, you’re being...”
“Answer me, Liss?”
“Dad,” she said, slowly and carefully, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“It isn’t huh? I get a letter from a woman in Chicago, there’s a goddamn court order in the letter, she wants to know why my daughter ran off without paying the rent...”
“I didn’t run off! We forgot, that’s all. Jesus, that fucking Steinberg! He knows we...”
“I don’t appreciate that kind of language,” Connie said.
“I’m sorry, Mom, but he knew we planned to pay the rent, Jesus! Do you know what this is? It’s he’s a lousy guitar player, and he knows Judd’s about to break up with him...”
“He’s a musician, is he?” Jamie said. “This Judd Gordon.”
“Yes, he’s a musician.”
“Marvelous,” Jamie said.
“He went to Harvard,” Lissie said defensively.
“How old is he?”
“Nineteen. Well, he’ll be twenty soon.”
“And he’s already graduated from Harvard?” Connie said.
“No, he didn’t graduate.”
“What did he do?” Jamie asked.
“He left.”
“He dropped out, you mean.”
“Well, yes, if you want to put it that way.”
“And now he’s a musician.”
“Yes.”
“What does he play?”
“Guitar.”
“Naturally,” Jamie said.
“Dad, the harpsichord went out of style in—”
“Lissie, I’m not in the mood for any of your smart-ass—”
“Jamie, calm down,” Connie said.
“I want you to come home right this minute,” Jamie said, “do you hear me? I want you to get on a plane...”
“I haven’t got enough money for a plane ticket,” Lissie said.
“I’ll prepay it on this end.”
“Anyway, I don’t want to come home yet. Jesus, I just got here!”
“Lissie, this isn’t a question of what you want. The minute you started lying to us, you lost the right to...”
“Dad, I’m eighteen years old, I don’t have to do everything you want me to do.”
“Would you like me to call the police? I’d hate...”
“The police? Jesus! You’ve got to be kidding! What’d I do, would you mind telling me?”
“You ran off to California with a boy we don’t even...”
“You’ll meet him when we get back, okay? I’ll bring him home the minute we get back. Calm down, Dad, willya?”
“I want you to come home,” Jamie said.
“No.”
“Lissie, I...”
“No,” she said, and hung up.
“Lissie?”
“She hung up,” Connie said.
Jamie immediately began jiggling the receiver rest.
“Operator,” a voice said.
“Operator, could you please get me 824-7996 in San Francisco?”
“You can dial that direct, sir, the area code is...”
“I know I can dial it direct, this is an emergency.”
“Well... all right, sir, I’ll try it for you.”
He waited as she dialed. On the extension, Connie said, “Now calm down, Jamie. Getting excited isn’t going to help.”
“What number are you calling from?” the operator asked as the phone began ringing on the other end.
“Rutledge 4-8072,” Jamie said.
“Hello?” a voice on the other end said. A boy’s voice this time. “Let me speak to Lissie Croft, please.”
“Who’s this?”
“Her father.”
“Oh, hi, Mr. Croft. This is Judd.”
“Get my daughter, please,” Jamie said.
“Sure, just a sec,” Judd said. The phone clattered as he put it down. Jamie heard voices. He waited.
“‘Oh, hi, Mr. Croft,’” he mimicked, “ ‘this is Judd.’ ”
“Calm down,” Connie warned on the extension.
“Hello?” a voice said.
“Who’s this?”
“Barbara.”
“Barbara who?”
“Barbara Duggan.”
“Barbara, may I please speak to my daughter?”
“Well... she can’t come to the phone just now,” Barbara said.
“Why not? I just spoke to her a minute—”
“She’ll have to call you back later, Mr. Croft.”
“I want to talk to her now.”