Free Elsinore Canyon by J. M.

All I need to live is this: I’m flesh pulled over a skeleton, fired by a soul, energized by a heart, steered by a brain, containing a Phil-shaped space. You overwhelm and fill me. Dana.’” He perspired lightly as he put it away. “Well, fast forward to some four weeks ago, when I first realized my son and your daughter were getting this serious. Quite a piece of detective work,” he said with a look at Phil.
    Dr. Claudia was fighting hard to suppress her astonishment. “I had no idea Dana had it in her. How’s the romance going, Phil?”
    Three adult faces turned to Phil’s. “I didn’t really answer her. I haven’t had much chance lately.” His sunny, gentle voice trailed to a bleat. “I went to Alaska.”
    “So,” Polly pounced, “What do you think now, Claudia? Garth?”
    Mr. Hamlet looked irritated. “What are you getting at? We already knew the kids liked each other.”
    “But I previously believed Phil was becoming far more emotionally involved than your daughter, far more than was good for him. He’s younger, he’s more dependent, and he doesn’t command the same public attention your daughter does. Heh, yes, she does these days. Well, I didn’t want Phil to get hurt, so I sent him away for several weeks—out of sight and out of mind, for both him and Dana. And you know what happened after that Dana-wise. It turned out she was the one who suffered. Do you see? Her behavior has been a cry for attention. It’s all been an act of self-destruction and anger, based on feelings of rejection and worthlessness due to my son’s apparent coldness towards her. Here’s another of her messages.” He sorted out yet another paper. “‘How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.’”
    “We know the poem,” Mr. Hamlet said.
    Polly’s mouth hung open, mid-syllable. “All credit to our education.” The interview was taking an odd turn. Claudia and Garth seemed to be switching sides before his eyes.
    “Can I—could I have that?” Dr. Claudia said, reaching for the paper.
    “Of course.” Phil watched it pass from one hand to the other.
    Dr. Claudia massaged her lip as she looked over the page. “Well.” She handed it to Mr. Hamlet. Phil watched it circulate once again. “Garth, what do you think, a cry for attention? A little teen melodrama?”
    Mr. Hamlet turned the paper face-down on his knee, lost in the overly rapid progress of this conversation. Polly had his daughter’s e-mails. “I think we’re overthinking this thing,” he said distractedly. “Look, the answer’s right under our noses. Her mother’s dead.” He slipped a finger under Dr. Claudia’s curled palm. “And you and I did get married faster than she was ready for.”
    Polly tapped the binder confidentially. “I can keep an eye on things.”
    “Apparently,” Mr. Hamlet said.
    “I hope Polly’s right,” said Dr. Claudia. “It’s a lot more thinkable than the other things we’ve talked about.”
    “I guess.”
    “You don’t seem happy.”
    “Of course I’m not happy. So tell me, is Dana supposed to pop back to normal now? Now that Phil’s in town?”
    “Well,” Polly stammered, “yes, I would think so.”
    “Tell me again why we’re having this meeting?”
    Polly nudged Phil. “You can go.” All eyes on Phil again, as he walked out with less than his usual grace and swiftness.
    “I just wanted to bring it all forward,” said Polly. “What I know. Surely it’s useful.”
    “For what? Teen sex therapy?”
    “I wouldn’t put it that—”
    “So the kids just pick up the phone and the problem solves itself. Let nature take its course.”
    “Well, is that your solution?” Polly said hopefully.
    Mr. Hamlet rolled his eyes and crushed Dana’s letter against his knee.
    Polly stirred uneasily. “I hope you don’t have any reservations about Phil. My son—”
    “No, no, no,” Mr. Hamlet chuffed. “Of course Phil’s fine. I’m just concerned about my daughter.” He went to the door. “Thanks