"Well, this is nice," said Mrs. Quinzel, breaking the awkward silence as her family sat around the table. "The whole family together at Thanksgiving again."
"Yeah…just like old times," agreed Harley, picking at her food. And it was. Before she had severed all contact with her parents, being home for the holidays had always been awkward. Her mother wasn't really the problem – she was a nice, sweet lady, if a little innocent. Her father was a different story, however.
From about the age of fifteen, everything Harley had chosen to do with her life had met with his disapproval. If disapproval was a strong enough word. Condemnation was probably a better one. The way she acted, the way she dressed, her friends, all aspect of her teenage years had been some sort of fight, and although she moved away to Gotham for college, the fights only grew worse whenever she went home. Her decision to major in psychology was an especially hot topic. Her father believed it was a fake degree in a fake subject, and Harley had to spend almost every second of her time at home defending her work. It made her miserable. He made her miserable, and when she had got together with Mr. J, she had resolved never to be miserable again. He was a man who made everything fun. He had reminded her of what real happiness was, and how happy she could be, without the stress and headaches brought on by family. So she had returned home one final time to tell her father the truth – that she was having an affair with her patient, the homicidal, insane supercriminal known as the Joker. Her father had reacted as she had predicted he would, and they hadn't seen each other from that day to this.
One of the many hurtful things he had said to her during that last fight had been accusing her of being selfish and of wanting to break her mother's heart, which he assured her would happen if she knew the truth. That had hit home. Harley had never set out to hurt anyone else by her decision, especially not her mother, and she knew his words were true. They both loved her mother, and so her father had vowed she would never find out the truth of Harley's relationship from him. And it was clear he had kept that secret to this day.
"You look beautiful, baby," said Mrs. Quinzel, smiling at her daughter. "Pretty, healthy, happy. Your life must be going pretty ok, huh?"
"Oh…yeah, Mom, it's great," replied Harley, sincerely. Her father glared at her but said nothing.
"That Dr. Leland seems like a really nice person to work for," continued her mother. "You like your job?"
"Oh yeah, course I do," said Harley. "And she is – Joan's really nice. Very…understanding."
"And how are your patients?" she asked. "That Joker seems like a funny one."
"Oh yeah, he's a…funny guy," stammered Harley. "Uh…he's great actually…makes me laugh a lot. We get along great most of the time. Lots to talk about."
She met her father's eyes, blazing in fury, and looked back down at her plate.
"And have you found a nice young man yet?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "I'm sure there are a lot of them in Gotham."
"Uh…not really in the market for a nice young man, Mom," said Harley slowly, swirling her vegetables around the gravy on her plate.
"That's fine, baby, I don't wanna pressure you," said Mrs. Quinzel. "Women these days are so independent, and you've never been the type who needs a man. I just worry, thinking about you all alone in this big city. I don't want you to get lonely. I just want you to have someone sweet to come home to. Where do you live now, baby? I've been wanting to call or write, but I didn't have an address or a phone number."
"Uh…if you get in touch with Arkham, they can usually reach me," said Harley, slowly. "I change my address a lot…don't like getting tied down to one location – you know me, Mom."
"Yes, I do," laughed Mrs. Quinzel. "Adventurous and free-spirited. I don't know where you get that from. Certainly not from me."
"I blame your parents," retorted Mr. Quinzel. "They had a lot of crazy ideas too."
"Well, she's turned out great despite those crazy ideas, hasn't she, George?" asked Mrs. Quinzel.
Mr. Quinzel said nothing, and Harley saw his knuckles tighten on the glass. He was probably giving himself an ulcer keeping the secret from her mother.
"I'm just going to head to the ladies' – be right back," said Mrs. Quinzel, standing up and leaving Harley and her father alone.
"How…are you doing, Dad?" asked Harley, slowly, breaking the hostile silence.
"Fine," he retorted. "Life's a bed of roses, Harley, with my only child throwing her life away as the sidekick to some murdering nutcase and having to conceal that fact from my wife. It's all just peachy keen."
"Well, maybe you should consider letting Mom find out the truth," retorted Harley.
"I'm not as selfish as you, Harley," he snapped. "I could never hurt her like that. And she would be hurt, as I am, to know that despite all her love and care, her child has chosen to waste her life on that disgusting monster…"
"Don't talk about him like that," interrupted Harley. "I love him."
He snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Harley," he muttered. "I've been wondering ever since we last spoke if this isn't all some big stunt to get back at me, to punish me for some perceived injustice I've done you as a parent. Maybe your rebellious teenage phase has just continued on, and you're actually immature enough to let it ruin your whole life."
"You must have an incredibly high opinion of yourself, Dad, to think I would mold my entire life around trying to get back at you," retorted Harley. "This has nothing to do with you or Mom. This is my decision, and my choice. I love him. And I'm happy."
Mr. Quinzel took a long drink. "You think I don't read the papers, Harley?" he muttered. "You think I don't see every trashy magazine and gossip rag that reports on you and that clown? All your torrid little fights and break-ups, the abominable way he treats you, and all the sick speculation about what kind of messed up woman you are? Do you know what it feels like as a parent to read those horrible things about your daughter? The way they portray it, you're not happy at all. You're just stuck in some abusive cycle with a monstrous creep, like a battered wife. He does hit you, doesn't he? Tell me the truth."
Harley poked at her vegetables some more. "Sometimes," she agreed. "We have fights, like all couples do."
"Fights are one thing," agreed her father. "Your mother and I have fights, but I've never raised a hand to her in my life. I wouldn't be any kind of man if I did that. I always tried to set a good example for my daughter about how a man should behave, and how he should treat a woman. But I have to wonder if any of this is my fault. If I've failed in some way as a parent, for my daughter to have turned out like that, to tell herself she's happy with that kind of a guy. You deserve better. Everyone says so, and I think you know you do, deep down."
"I can't explain it to you, Dad," whispered Harley. "Or to anyone else. But when I'm with Mr. J…I feel like…myself. I don't feel like myself around anyone else. He makes me feel complete, and he does make me happy. The kind of happiness I've never known around anyone else. And that kinda happiness is worth the occasional moment of pain. I'm crazy for him, literally. I…I love him."
She took a drink of water. "And I can't help what other people think, and I don't care what other people think," she said firmly. "I don't ask you to like it, Dad, but you've got to accept it. I'm with Mr. J."
He nodded slowly. "Are you going to tell your mother, or should I?" he asked.
"Does she…have to know?" asked Harley.
"If you don't care what anybody thinks, then why should you care if she knows?" demanded her father. "Unless some part of you does care, and is ashamed of what you've done."
"I'm not ashamed," snapped Harley. "I just…don't want to hurt her. She wouldn't understand. Just like you don't."
Mr. Quinzel took another drink. "How can anybody understand madness?" he asked.
Harley didn't have an immediate response, and Mrs. Quinzel returned to the table before she thought of one. "Should we order dessert?" she asked. "I'm in the mood for a slice of pumpkin pie – what about you, Harley?"
"Sure, Mom," said Harley.
"Are you working a lot over Thanksgiving weekend or can we see you again?" asked Mrs. Quinzel. "We'll be heading home on Monday, but we've got a hotel in Gotham for the next three days, and we wanna spend as much time with you as possible. What's your schedule looking like?"
Harley looked down at her plate. "Uh…I'll have to double check with Dr. Leland," she said. "I just…have a lot of patients who need me…"
"Well, we can come to Arkham if that's easier," said Mrs. Quinzel. "And we can see you on your breaks. Or maybe watch you with your patients, if that's allowed. They seem like an interesting group."
"Uh…yeah…interesting's a good word," said Harley, nodding. "But, gee, Mom, are you sure you wanna spend all day in an asylum? There are a lot of other sights to check out in Gotham – you could see Wayne Tower, or the Natural History Museum…"
"And I'm sure they're all very nice, Harley, but all I really want to do is spend time with my daughter," said Mrs. Quinzel, taking her hand and beaming. "Isn't that right, George?"
Mr. Quinzel said nothing. "The Joker robbed the Natural History Museum a few weeks ago, didn't he?" he asked lightly. "With an accomplice?"
"Oh. Is he a particularly dangerous man, Harley?" asked Mrs. Quinzel, concerned. "You're not at any risk of being hurt, are you?"
"No," retorted Harley, firmly. "No, he's not dangerous. I mean, he is dangerous, but not to me. He wouldn't hurt me – I'm special. Y'know, being his…his doctor and all."
It was no good, thought Harley. She simply couldn't look into her mother's eyes and admit to her relationship with the Joker. And that bothered her. She had never had any problem telling anyone all about it before – she even gave Poison Ivy lurid details about it when she was drunk enough. But with her parents…well, she loved them. In a different way to Mr. J, but no less deeply. And it was difficult to know you were disappointing the people you loved, even if it resulted in your own happiness.
But maybe…maybe if her parents got to know Mr. J, if they could see the Joker she knew and loved…maybe she could tell them the truth without them being disappointed. Mr. J loved her, after all, and he did show it occasionally. Maybe she could convince him to prove his love to her in front of her parents, so they'd be ok with their relationship. Maybe this could all end all right after all. Or maybe she was just crazy. Well, even if she was, she didn't have any better ideas.
"Why don't you both come to Arkham tomorrow morning?" she said. "And you can meet him for yourself."