“What’s that?”
“Cleaning up the mess. Doing right by those youngsters. Seeing to it that they become good citizens. I’m sure you want that just as much as we do, now don’t you, Doctor?”
“Right now,” I said, “I’m less interested in teaching them civics than in helping them sleep through the night.”
His smile faded.
Dobbs said, “All Assemblyman Massengil is saying is that values are crucial when working with these children- any children. Maintaining an order.”
“What kind of order?”
“A system of values. Being overt and aboveboard with one’s personal value system is a necessity in clinical work- one that’s too olden neglected. Children need that kind of security. The knowledge that their significant others believe in something. Surely you wouldn’t disagree.”
Massengil said, “Let’s get down to brass tacks, Doc. We greatly appreciate everything you’ve done. I’m sure you’ve made a great start, psychology-wise. From now on, though, Lance’s people are gonna take over. The way it was supposed to be in the first place.”
I said, “I can’t agree to that, Assemblyman. Breaking off and starting with someone new would only confuse the children further- weaken whatever sense of security they’ve rebuilt.”
He gave his head a choppy wave. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m sure Lance will be able to remedy that.”
“Absolutely,” said Dobbs. “If you’re using a standard crisis-intervention mode, it should be no problem to transfer from one attachment figure to-”
I said, “Come on, Doctor. The last thing the children need is more unnecessary change.”
Before he could answer I stood and looked down at Massengil. “Assemblyman, if you’re really interested in their welfare, keep your politics out of their lives and let me do my job.”
Massengil put his hands on the arms of his chair, sucked in his breath, and rounded his shoulders as if preparing to himself up. But he stayed in place, all the tension rising to his face, compressing and darkening it, like meat turned to pemmican in the sun.
“Politics, eh? Like that’s some sort of dirty word? Like it’s somehow criminal to want to serve God and country? I’ve got news for you, young man. People don’t want to hear that kind of libertine guff anymore. They respect competence, experience, know who their leaders are, where the bedrock lies.” He shook a finger at me. “If it’s politics you find so objectionable, let me tell you something. Your homasexual friend got his promotion ’cause of politics. He called you in ’cause of politics. And this whole mess started in the first place ’cause of politics-those kids and the agitators behind them are making a deliberate choice to bring politics into their lives every morning they get on that bus from Boyle Heights and head west! So if you want to talk about politics, let’s talk about the whole damned picture!”
I said, “I’m not concerned with any of that. All I care about is helping them deal with being shot at.”
“Wasn’t them. Me! I was the target. Because of what I stood for. Put in the cross-hairs by some vicious radical punk trying to erode the boundaries!”
“Is that what you told ATD?”
He hesitated for a moment, looked at Dobbs, then back at me. “What I know is my business. Preservation and erosion. Fact is, it’s about time someone took charge of that school, set things right. Place is nothing but an open sore on the face of the district, social experimentation at the expense of stability. I try to talk straight about it and nearly get gunned down in cold blood. There’s your being shot at!”
He was breathing hard and his fingers had left wet marks on the glass.
Dobbs said, “Sam. Assemblyman.” He made a faint wiggling motion with one hand, then lowered it, like a magician de-levitating an assistant. Massengil settled back down and let out breath.
“All right, Doctor,” said Dobbs. “Let’s emphasize cooperation, not confrontation. Work together. I’d be happy to integrate you into my program.”
All smiles.
I remembered what Linda had told me about his earthquake “program” and shook my head. “That would be pointless, Dr. Dobbs. I’m well into my treatment; the children are responding well. There’s simply no reason to complicate things.”
The smile lingered but turned condescending. “Are you sure that isn’t ego talking, Doctor?”
“Not ego,” I said. “Just good common sense.”
“A contradiction in terms, if there ever was one, Dr. Delaware. If good sense was common, we’d both be out of business, wouldn’t we? Same goes for good values.”
“Values,” I said. “Like truth in advertising?”
He pursed his lips. Before he could get them in gear, I turned to Massengil and said, “Yesterday, at the school, I met one of Dr. Dobbs’s staff, handing out cassette tapes. Misrepresenting herself as a psychologist and claiming a doctorate she didn’t have. Two violations of the state business code, Assemblyman. How’s that for erosion?”
Massengil looked at Dobbs.
Dobbs laughed and said, “Picayune, Sam. A technical ity. Patty Mendez is a good gal, but green. Not well-versed yet in all the red tape the bureaucrats throw at us. Dr. Delaware here was pretty rough on her. I’ve talked to her, set her straight.”
Massengil stared at him for an instant, then swung his eyes back to me. “You heard that. Let’s not go making a mountain out of a molehill.”
“How about we get back on track?” said Dobbs gently.
“Right,” said Massengil. “I want Lance involved. One way or the other. Plain and simple.”
I looked at Dobbs. Self-satisfied. In control. Suddenly I understood. All the cross-glances, hand signals.
The bond between them went beyond management seminars.
What they had was deeper.
Something with a parent/child flavor to it.
It explained the odd defensiveness Massengil had shown when I’d asked about Dobbs’s being on his team.
We’ve all of us benefited, the whole staff.
All of us. Not just me.
Patient and therapist? The bedrock of the community baring his psyche to Santa Claus?
Why not?
Psychotherapy under the guise of management seminars would be a nifty cover, legitimizing Dobbs’s presence in Massengil’s office and sparing Massengil the trip to the doctor’s office. Spiritual Growth in Service of the Soul… mind-probing disguised as “brainstorming.” The bills could be laundered among the office invoices…
Massengil’s thin voice snapped me back to the present. Making another speech. More gobbledygook about values…
I said, “Gentlemen, if that’s all, I’m on my way. And I expect to finish what I started without further interruption.”
“You’re making a big mistake,” said Massengil. “A damned big one.”
“No, you are,” I said, loud enough to surprise all three of us. “The latest in a series of mistakes. Like using the school- exploiting those youngsters- to further your own agenda. Obsessing on trivial nonsense when there are so many important issues to deal with. And if you are right about being the target, you did a lot worse than that- you drew a killer to that yard, put those kids in mortal danger.”
Massengil shot up and came around the desk. “You snotty fag bastard!” Froth had collected in the corners of his mouth. Flecks of it flew as he talked and one of them settled on his tie.
Dobbs looked pained. “Sam!” he said, struggling to his feet, trying to restrain the older man. But Massengil was strong for his age and fueled by rage. The two of them wrestled awkwardly for a moment. Then Dobbs said “Sam!” sharply, and Massengil stopped struggling.