Chapter 15

It was approaching five when I got home. Travis had given me a time of three o’clock the next day, giving me less than twenty-four hours to book an appointment with Amy for him to attend. I started by texting Cameron: Need you + your car tomorrow from 2:30-4:30. Then I pulled up the picture of Ms. McLellan’s business card on my phone and called the number.

A perky voice answered the phone after two rings. “McLellan Psychology, how may I help you?”

“Uh, why yes, ahem, hello.” I tried to make my voice sound as similar to Travis’s as I could. “A friend told me about your services. I'd like to discuss issues I'm having with my son.”

“Absolutely sir. How old is your son and what sort of issues are you having?”

“Well, uh, he's sixteen and he's been, I don’t know, different lately. He's been depressed and angry and last week he attempted suicide using my wife’s pills.” I had no idea where I was going with the story. “We've been, um, praying for him, but I guess we need some extra help.”

“We completely understand, sir. We've dealt with many teens in situations similar to your son’s. Would you like to come in and speak with Amy? You can discuss options, and then we can proceed with a plan for your whole family.”

“That'd be marvelous!” Marvelous? Who on earth said that? Not Travis, that's for sure.

“Great. So, what time would work—”

“Tomorrow at three?” Once again, a bit too eager. At least this one couldn't call me out on it.

“I'm afraid that time is booked. Is there another that would work for you?”

No, there wasn't another time. But I needed a reason for that, and I'd failed to come up with one in advance of the call. For a brief moment, I considered hanging up and calling back when I had a lie to work with, but then inspiration hit me. “There really isn't. I have to pick my wayward son up at three-thirty and then we’re all, um, going on vacation for the next week. I know this will be a cloud over the whole trip if I don't have some sort of plan to discuss with my wife.”

“O… kay…” The receptionist was quiet for a minute, but I heard typing in the background. “Normally we don't do this, but I can move one of our clients—she tends to cancel on us at the last minute anyway. If you can be here for three sharp, I can squeeze you in.”

“Marvelous.” There it was again. Why did I keep using that word? “Thank you very much.”

“My pleasure, Mr.…”

Shit. A name. This was something I'd thought of in advance of phoning the office, but now I could not remember what I'd come up with. “Mcgillicuddy,” I said. “Frederick Mcgillicuddy.”

“Mr. Mcgillicuddy, we’re looking forward to seeing you tomorrow! Bye now.” She hung up, and I collapsed onto my bed, feeling equal amounts of relief and terror. I'd managed to get the meeting, but now I had to trust that Travis could pull off the dad role and get the information I needed. I had a lot of preparation to do.

***

Two-fifty-five in the afternoon on Tuesday. Cameron in the driver’s seat, Travis in the passenger’s and me sitting in the back. A car heading to the city, to the Family Counselling Offices of Amy McLellan.

“Once again,” I explained to Travis, “you are Frederick Mcgillicuddy—”

“My son has been depressed and moody for the last year and tried to kill himself a month ago. As good, Christian parents, my wife and I are looking for ways to help him in a Godly environment.”

“Perfect.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out a Bluetooth headset. “Put this on. It will allow me to hear what Amy says to you, and also give you things to ask her.”

He clipped it onto his ear. “I feel like James Bond.”

“Yeah, only sexier. Hand me your phone.” He did, and I configured it to the headset’s frequency, and then called his number. “Okay, say something.”

“Something.” His voice came through my phone. “We good?”

“We’re stellar,” I said. Cameron pulled the car up to the curb right outside a white residential house on a quiet street along the city’s fringe. “Oh, one last thing. Say ‘marvelous’ a lot.”

“I—okay. Why?”

“Long story. It's three now, you gotta go.” I reached over his seat and opened the passenger door. He shot me a look and then got out and walked into the house. I put my phone on speaker and muted the microphone so that everything I said wouldn't be blaring in his ear.

“Good afternoon.” The secretary’s voice came through faintly. The headset wasn't designed to pick up distant noises, but it would have to do. “How may I help you, sir?”

“Hello, I am Frederick Mcgillicuddy. I have an appointment with Amy McLellan at three o’clock.”

“Jeez,” Cameron whispered. “He sounds robotic.”

“Right, Mr. Mcgillicuddy. We spoke on the phone yesterday. How are you today?”

“I am well. I'm glad to be speaking to the doctor about my problematic son.” Yikes. It was like he was performing only for me and Cameron.

“Great! Just so we’re clear, Amy isn't a doctor, but she has over twenty years of experience helping families with issues like these. She'll be out to see you in a few minutes.”

“Marvelous.” At least he was following that direction.

“And I bet you're excited about your trip?” the secretary asked. “Where are you heading to?”

“My trip?” Oh God. The trip. I had completely forgotten to mention that part to him. I held the phone up to my mouth.

“I'd told her you were taking a family vacation this week. Say you're going south to Florida or something.”

“Um, right, my trip. It was, I mean is, coming up.” Had Travis not heard me? “We're going to visit relatives in, uh, Halifax. Nova Scotia. We have family there.”

Cameron pointed at the phone. “Dude. You still have it on mute.”

I nearly smacked my forehead. Of course, I did.

There was little noise coming from the phone, and I assumed Travis was now waiting for Amy. We waited along with him, neither of us saying much, lest we miss something. After a few minutes, noise came through the phone once again. “Hi, Frederick? I'm Amy.”

“Hello. I’m Frederick.” I exchanged a glance with Cameron. At least he was keeping to his character.

“Great to meet you. Why don’t you come into my office, and we’ll talk about your situation?” I couldn’t see Amy, obviously, but she was acting the way I expected—perky, enthusiastic, and eager to help. It was the same sort of vibe I got from her website, with its bright pastel colors, random Bible quotes and multiple pictures of Amy, who was well into her fifties but sporting long, dark brown hair and a massive smile. I think I had her figured out. This was not the typical psychologist who talked to you and was plain with the issues you faced and the ways you could face them. No, this was someone who saw every challenge as something that just needed God brought into it in order to solve everything. I’d never had anything against organized religion—I grew up going to church and I remember all the nice old ladies stopping by and dropping off food after my mom died—but this sort of thing was creepy. I was almost glad I wasn’t the one facing Amy at this moment.

“Would you like a glass of water?” I heard a door shut and some footsteps.

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Okay then. So, let’s talk about your son. What’s his name?”

A pause. “Uh, Travis. My son’s name is Travis.” Oh boy.

“And he’s how old?”

“Sixteen. Turned it in May. For his birthday we got him a new bike, but he trashed it when he realized he wasn’t getting a car.”

“Mmm. I see. Is this unusual behavior for him?”

“No. He regularly throws parties when we’re not home that end with our house in a wreck. And he’s started doing drugs like pot and, uh, marijuana.”

Cameron covered his mouth. “Holy hell. It’s like his son is straight out of a bad 90s comedy.”

I unmuted the microphone. “Dial it back. We need this kid to be similar to Josh, to see what she says.”

“But I should point out.” Travis’ voice was suddenly loud. “That he also does a lot of good things. He volunteers every week at the orphanage.”

“The orphanage?” me, Cameron and Amy all asked aloud at the same time.

“The animal orphanage,” Travis said. “You know, the shelter. And he’s also still active in our church. He’s just… I don’t know…” His voice was all over the place, and I could hear his heavy breathing coming through the headset.

“Travis,” I said, keeping my own voice low and slow. “Take a deep breath. Pretend you’re on the ice, taking a penalty shot and she’s the goalie. It’s just you and her, and if you want to get around her you can’t expect to barrel through. You need to be graceful and use your head. Can you do that?”

“Yeah,” he said. I rolled my eyes as I muted the phone. My own fault for asking him a question.

“Yeah?” Amy repeated.

Travis took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, this is all difficult for me to discuss. Look, my son, Travis, he’s a good kid. And maybe he’s just lashing out a bit—Lord knows I put a lot of pressure on him to succeed. What I’m most concerned about is that he’s been depressed and moody lately. His schoolwork has fallen, and he seems to have lost interest in things he used to love, like hockey. And then last month he told me that he’d tried to swallow a bunch of pills to kill himself but had chickened out and thrown them back up.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. Now we were getting somewhere. I could imagine Amy getting a few tears in her eyes. Hell, I felt my own watering up. Who knew Travis had an acting skill that went beyond faking injuries to draw a penalty?

“Frederick, I completely understand.” Her voice was softer and cracking slightly. She’d bought it. “And I think the first thing we should do is get you and Travis in here to have a conversation. It is very important that he hears what you think is going on in his life and how you feel about it.”

I spoke into the phone once again. “Bring up outside programs. See if there’s anything she’d recommend sending him to.”

“That’s a great idea,” Travis said. “But what if it doesn’t work? I’ve heard things about outside programs that bring in troubled teens and help them see the error in their ways. Do you think that could be an option for Travis?”

“I wouldn’t worry about those just yet. Let’s sit down with Travis and talk about where he is in life and what both of your expectations are going forward.” I heard the sound of a chair moving. She was standing up. “We can schedule a meeting for the two of you—when do you get back from vacation?”

Damn it. We were losing this. I rubbed my temples while Cameron looked anxiously towards the house. “Shit. We need a Hail Mary.” I took the phone off mute again. “Tell her he’s gay. That you found gay porn in his room and text messages with another guy who you think may be his boyfriend. See if that does anything.”

There was more rustling against the headset. He was moving. Shit, had he heard me?

“Wait,” Travis said. “I—I don’t even know how to broach this, but there’s one other thing. He’s gay.”

“He is?” There was a layer of dread to her voice. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve found porn videos on his computer, and a few months ago when he was having a ‘sleepover’ with his best friend I heard some… noises. He’s shown no interest in girls, and there’s been a few times when it’s looked like he’s been on the verge on coming out to me.” He took another breath. “We are good Christian folk. We know that homosexuality is the devil’s work, but we don’t know what to do. There must be something you know of, some way to… to save his soul.”

Amy didn’t say anything for a moment, and I wondered if the phone had cut out. Then I heard her. “There are options,” she said slowly. “But it’s a grey area. Let’s leave this for now and talk with Travis before we take any drastic measures.”

I looked over at Cam and smiled. “Mother-fucking-bingo.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Amy asked. I froze. The phone had been active when I’d screamed an obscenity.

“Oh, it’s, uh, my phone acting up,” Travis said. “The radio keeps coming on. But I need to go. I’ll call to schedule an appointment. It was nice meeting you.”

“Okay, you too…”

There were footsteps, and the Travis emerged from the house, nearly running to the car. He yanked the door open and climbed in. “Gun it! Go, go, go!”

Cameron started the car up and gradually accelerated out of his spot and down the road. Travis leaned his head back against the seat, his face flushed and his breath heavy. “You did great,” I said, patting his shoulder. “We have a ton to work with now. That couldn’t have gone any better.”

“She was on to me,” he gasped. “I could see it in the way she looked at me, especially when you decided to start swearing loudly into my ear.”

“Uh, yeah. That was my bad.”

We dropped Travis off at his house, after I thanked him time and time again for his help and promised that I’d be an entirely new player on the ice. Cameron and I drove back to my place and huddled in my bedroom. My mind was reeling, and my heart was conflicted. On one hand, we were making progress to finding out where Josh was, while on the other, this was revealing a reality that I feared the most, that Josh had been sent off somewhere, possibly to be “fixed” of his attractions—to me, at that. It only added to the urgency of us finding and rescuing him.

“So, what’s next?” Cameron asked. “Assuming that your boyfriend’s parents reached a point where they felt they had to ship Josh away, how do we find where he is?” He looked at me. I averted my eyes. “Oh, you have an idea, don’t you?”

“I… I might.” My shaky voice betrayed my lack of confidence in it. “I mean, let’s just spitball here. The only people who really know where Josh is, aside from Josh himself, is his family, right?”

“Right…”

“So, what if, you know, we went and talked to his brother? Let him know that we’re onto what his parents done with their son, and appeal to him to help us out. Josh is his younger brother—there must be some part of him that cares about what’s happening here.” I sighed and looked back at him. “Again, we’re spit balling. No idea is too stupid. What do you think we should do?”

He exhaled slowly and kept his gaze with mine. His mouth opened, and then a few seconds later closed again. He shrugged. “Yeah, let’s talk to his brother.”