TURKEY
So, this came to me as I drove to and from on Thanksgiving Day
CHAPTER ONE
The first November of their partnership she tried to get him to her family's Thanksgiving. When he gently rebuffed her offer, she guessed he had somewhere to go and someone to go with. She didn't know much about him then. She knew he wasn't married, and all signs indicated he'd never been. Her gaydar, usually reliable, said he was straight, and there were rumors of past girlfriends. She had a difficult time imagining a straight guy so cute and funny and smart not having a female companion happy to invite him to or fix him a turkey dinner, or one that he'd invite to a meal he'd fix. She could see him stuffing the turkey with some exotic combination. The image of Bobby Goren pummeling a turkey sent Alex Eames into a dangerous daydream. She'd always liked men who could cook, and she knew that Goren could cook, or at least talk like he could, and he was just good looking enough to make the sight of him working over a stove in her head very attractive. She shoved the scene out of her head as she'd done with a few other scenarios involving her partner.
She was surprised when she checked the duty roster a week before Thanksgiving and saw Goren's name listed for all of the next week. Captain Deakins walked by as she examined the list.
"Happy with the time off, Alex?" Deakins asked.
"Yes, Sir. Very happy. Thank you very much."
"You're welcome. You deserve it. You've got the seniority. Your results have been terrific."
"A lot of those results are due to my partner. He working all next week because he's the new guy?"
Deakins' face took on the puzzled look it frequently had when the subject of Bobby Goren came up. "No. He asked to work, and he didn't ask for anything in return. And he's already asked to work through Christmas to New Year's. I'm not complaining. It's good to have a volunteer when everyone else wants the time off."
Alex's pang of guilt reached her face.
"Don't worry," Deakins assured her. "Like I said. You've earned this."
"Goren doesn't have family?"
"He's got a mother," Deakins said. "She's his beneficiary, and I think she has some chronic condition, but he doesn't say much about her."
Alex walked slowly back to her desk. "I don't know much about Goren," she thought. "By the end of my first week with Phil Jackson I knew he'd been married twenty years, that he loved his wife, that his kids were the most brilliant on the planet, how he felt about the NYPD, and why the Mets would never win another World Series. But Goren…"
Goren was lost in a deep study of a thick psychology text when Alex reached her desk. "Hey," she said. "I think I know the how."
Goren started and blinked. "Uh, great. I think I might know the why."
"Now we just need to convince Deakins and Carver," Alex smiled. "By the way, just to warn you, I get all of next week off."
"You deserve it," Goren said warmly. "You'll get to spend a lot of time with your family. Good." He reached for a form, and it struck Alex that Goren had learned much more about her than she had about him in their short partnership.
"You're working all that week," Alex said cautiously. "You don't have plans?"
Goren's pen hesitated over the form. "Uh…just work."
His tone was polite, but Alex felt a door locked in front of her. She also reached for a form. It was late, and the bullpen's population declining. Deakins passed by their desks, quickly reviewed their findings, and approved their request to take them to Carver. Bobby and Alex continued working until they realized they were nearly the last two people in the squad room.
"I'm sorry, Eames," Bobby said. "I didn't realize how late it was. You should get out of here."
Alex yawned and stretched. "Yea." She shut down her computer and gathered her stuff. "Uh, Goren. If you'd like, you're welcome to come by my family's house on Thanksgiving night. There'll be plenty of food left, and they'd like to meet my new partner."
Silence followed, and Alex feared she'd thrown a rock against Goren's door.
"Thank you, Eames," Bobby said softly. "That's very kind of you, but I'll be busy here. And. I'm sorry. Earlier. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just…" He slowly unlocked the door that kept him from the world and opened it a few inches. "My Mom. She, uh, has this chronic illness. She's somewhere where she gets constant care. I try to see her every weekend. Call her every day."
Alex recalled that Goren disappeared for a few minutes every day. When he returned, he was usually in a quiet, resigned mood, although sometimes he seemed very sad or even angry. These phone calls to his mother must have something to do with his moods. She also remembered that she'd had to wait for him at some crime scenes on Saturdays, and he'd always arrived in a state as if he'd just been in some emotional battle.
"The holidays," Bobby continued. "It's always crowded and noisy. I don't visit her then. I wait a day or two for things to settle down."
Alex wondered what this illness was and why Goren had to travel so far to see his mother.
"Not a problem," she said, sensing that Goren had reached the end of his revelations. "I was being nosy. But, seriously, you're welcome to come by."
She wasn't surprised when he failed to accept her invitation. It did surprise that on Thanksgiving Day at about four in the afternoon, when members of the Eames family were in various stages of unconsciousness throughout her parent's home, that she felt the need to call her partner and see how he was doing. She stepped out on the back porch and dialed her cell phone.
"Eames? Is anything wrong?"
"No," Alex replied. She wished she wasn't shivering from the cold and knew why she was calling her partner. "Just wanted to wish you Happy Thanksgiving and remind you of the offer."
"That's very kind of you, Eames," Bobby said after a moment. "But I actually wound up in my uniform doing parade security this morning."
"I did that a few years ago," Alex said. "Anyone who's not a cop thinks it's great, that you get a front row to watch the parade. They don't realize your back is to it most of the time."
Bobby laughed. "But you do get to see the kids' faces."
"True. That's pretty cool."
"Anyway," Bobby continued. "By the time I got back to Major Case, most of the day was gone. I haven't got done half of what I planned."
Alex thought that Goren at least hadn't slammed a door shut in her face. "I wanted you to know that the offer was still good."
"Thank you. I appreciate it. Happy Thanksgiving, Eames."
"Happy Thanksgiving, Goren."
This pattern continued over the next years. Alex extended an invitation; Bobby gently rebuffed it. It continued after she learned just what his mother's illness was.
"What did you mean," she asked as they drove back to Major Case after leaving a bipolar witness at a shelter. "You've had a lot of practice?"
Goren's treatment of this and other mentally ill people had impressed Alex for its gentleness and compassion. She expected to hear that Bobby volunteered to help the mentally ill or that he had a degree in psychology (it wouldn't surprise her if he had a medical degree) or that he was a psychiatrist who was also a very good detective.
"My Mom," he said after several moments. "Her illness. She's schizophrenic."
Schizophrenic. Schizophrenia. The words produced vague, terrible images in Alex's mind. She knew very little about mental illness. A few psychology classes in college and at the academy she reluctantly attended; a great aunt who was in and out of hospitals most of her short life; a cousin whose depression and suicide weren't talked about in her family. She knew the majority of the mentally ill people who floated the New York streets were victims, but the terrible violence few produced horrified her. She wasn't sure exactly what schizophrenia was. Did it cause a split personality? Hallucinations? Did it run in families? There were those rumors about Goren, and his behavior was strange, even if she was beginning to understand some of it. Was he, as her older brother and some other cops warned her, a whack job, a danger not only to her career but to her life?
Alex choked the steering wheel as her thoughts raced.
"I'm sorry," Alex said. "I'm sorry she's ill. I'm afraid I don't know much about schizophrenia. Is your mom in a…a…"
"A mental hospital."
"It's bad?" Alex mentally kicked herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course it was bad.
Goren, to his credit, didn't dismiss the question. "Yea. She really can't function outside of a hospital. The meds that help a lot of people don't help her." He stared out the window. "Look, Eames, if this bothers you. Disturbs you. I'll ask for a transfer."
Alex forced herself to concentrate on the road. "How did we get to you wanting a transfer? Did I say anything about not wanting you as my partner? Did you even give me a chance? Do you think I'm so narrow-minded, so stupid, that I can't deal with this?"
Goren shrank back in his seat. "No. No. Never. It's just. A lot of people, when they find out, they don't handle it well. I've heard the rumors. I know what people say about me. I've lost partners, friends, girlfriends."
"Like I said," Alex said calmly. "I know very little about this sort of thing. There's a diner over there. I'm hungry, and I deal better with everything with a cup of coffee. Ok?"
Alex enjoyed a good breakfast, but Bobby only ordered coffee. They sat in a corner, and he spoke quietly, stopping when the waitress came by.
"What," he asked, clinging to his coffee cup like a life preserver. "Do you want to know?"
"What is it really? Is it a split personality?"
He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. No, he explained. Schizophrenia wasn't a split personality. His mother didn't think she was two or more different people. Sometimes she seemed to be different people, but she wasn't. She didn't think she was Marie Antoinette or Marilyn Monroe or Joan of Arc. She heard voices and saw things that weren't there. She thought people who were trying to help her were hurting her.
"Sometimes," he said. "She thinks I'm someone who's impersonating her son."
"How long has she been ill?"
"At least since I was five." It got easier for him to speak as he spoke. "She showed symptoms before then, but that was the first time she went in the hospital."
"You must have been terrified."
"I'm not sure there was a word for what I was."
"She got better?"
"Yea. But she got sick again. And again. And it was always a little worse."
"I've heard about new drugs," Alex said. "Do they help her?"
Bobby shook his head. "Not much. Some of them help some people a lot. But some don't. The meds have to be taken every day. Even the new ones have some terrible side effects. And no one really knows how they affect people in the long run. Some cause tremors. Some slow down people so much. Some increase the risk of diabetes and high blood pressure. It's understandable why people go off their meds."
Alex took a deep breath. "What about you? Is it dangerous for you?"
To her great relief, Goren wasn't upset by the question.
"It's not contagious, although one of my mom's doctors says being around crazy people does seem to make a lot of people crazy." He smiled weakly. "The relatives of people with schizophrenia appear to have a greater chance of developing it. The closer the blood relationship, the greater the chance. But it doesn't mean that because your parent is schizophrenic, you're going to be too." He looked steadily at Alex. "I don't have it. I'm not doomed to have it. Every day I don't have it makes it more likely I won't. That's what you're worried about?"
He wasn't angry or accusing, only sad and resigned.
"Yes," Alex admitted.
"Makes perfect sense. You have to worry about your career. And your life."
For one terrible minute Alex wondered if he knew about the damned transfer letter she'd handed to Deakins in the first days of their partnership.
"Well," she said, recovering. "You do have a reputation. But the guys who've actually worked with you have great things to say about you. And I admit I'm still getting used to you. But you're a great detective."
Bobby looked up from his coffee. "Living with my mom. Trying to anticipate her moods. It made me observant. I was always trying to figure out what was going on with her, to learn what was wrong. The doctors didn't talk to me much. I used to think it was because they didn't want to scare me or that they thought a little kid couldn't understand. Now I think it was because they didn't know what was going on or what to do."
"It musta been hard for you. Did you have to take care of her? Did you have help?"
"It. My Dad. He. It's hard." He closed the door. "We better get back. Deakins will wonder where we are."
END CHAPTER ONE