Joe sat down on the sofa and looked at the psychiatrist with more than a little trepidation. Would this man be able to tell if he was lying? 'At least I can stick mainly to the truth about things,' Joe thought. 'Or at least I hope so,' he added silently, wondering what the psychiatrist would want him to talk about.
Dr. Turner was a tall, lean man with rich, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a brown beard and mustache that made him look older than his thirty-six years. He sat watching Joe silently, his eyes never leaving Joe's face although Joe kept glancing away from him nervously.
When Joe had been admitted to the foundation, Dr. Turner and the other members of the staff, had wondered if perhaps Fenton Hardy were conducting some sort of investigation but after Dr. Holden had examined the youth, no one had believed that theory any more. No one would allow their son to do this to himself for any reason. Dr. Turner took a deep breath and sat up straight in his chair causing Joe to jump and face him once again. 'No', the doctor thought. 'Sad. As far gone as the boy was he doubted whether he would have the bright future his family once hoped for him to have.'
"Hello, Joe. My name is Dr. Jack Turner," he introduced himself. Joe gave a shy smile and a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Do you know why you are here?"
"Because my parents put me here," Joe replied with a trace of pseudo bitterness.
"Well, there is that," acknowledged the doctor. "But they only want you to get well."
"Whatever," Joe replied with a shrug.
"Part of your road to well being requires meeting with me every day," Dr. Turner informed Joe. "You can be uncooperative if you choose but that will only lengthen the amount of time you remain in the foundation." Joe shot him a sour look. "Anything you tell me will not leave this room," he continued. "But in order to make progress; you need to be honest with me." After a brief hesitation, Joe gave him a curt nod. "Good. Shall we begin?" he asked. Receiving no reply but still holding Joe's attention, he continued. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and tell me a little bit about your family?"
"What do you want to know?" Joe countered, a note of suspicion creeping unintentionally into his voice.
"Do you always get defensive when someone asks about your family?" Turner asked.
Joe opened his mouth to deny the subtle accusation but closed it again. 'Do I?' he wondered. "Only when it's someone I don't know very well," Joe finally replied.
"You think everyone has an ulterior motive?" inquired Turner.
"No," Joe snapped defensively. "It's just, well, with what Dad does, we were taught to be careful what we tell people."
"How long has your father been a private investigator?"
"About thirteen years," Joe answered.
"And what did he do before that?" Turner asked.
"He was a police officer with the New York City Police Department," Joe answered truthfully. So far, he could find no reason not to answer what he had been asked honestly.
"So you were raised in an environment that required a certain amount of vigilance to maintain safety?"
"I guess so," Joe agreed with a shrug. "We always kept the alarm on at night and sometimes, Dad had us put in a safe house until he finished a case he was working on."
"How did you feel on those occasions?" Dr, Turner inquired.
"It didn't mess up my life if that's what you're implying," Joe said angrily. "My mom and Frank were there. I felt safe."
"And if you were aware of feeling safe that means there was a time that you didn't," stated the doctor making a note on his clipboard.
"No!" shouted Joe, getting to his feet. "Did I?" He looked at Dr. Turner with a woebegone expression. The doctor did make sense.
"Relax," Dr. Turner instructed Joe. "It's perfectly natural to be scared. Any child would have been." Joe still did not look convinced but he did return to his seat on the sofa. "A child without any fear is one I would be worried about," the doctor tried to reassure Joe.
"You wanted to know about my family," Joe said, leaning back against the sofa and looking at the doctor. He wanted to change the subject.
"Yes," agreed Dr. Turner, unobtrusively writing down that Joe was defensive and chose to change the subject rather than continue in the vein the conversation had been going.
"My dad's super," Joe said. "He always takes time to listen to me when I want to talk to him and if he's home, he always goes to my games."
"Does he miss many of them?"
"Some," Joe admitted. "But I can't expect him to be there for all of them, can I? What he does is very important."
"And your mother?"
"She used to attend all of my games but now she only goes to the special ones," Joe answered.
"Do you know why she stopped going to all of them?" Dr. Turner asked.
Joe shrugged. "She started volunteering for the Red Cross and that takes up a lot of her time now," he explained. "And she isn't really into sports. Look, don't go making notes about me hating my mom. I told her she didn't have to come to any of my games but she's the one who insists on coming to the big ones." Joe's voice broke off as he realized what he was saying. He was supposed to be reserved! What kind of an anorexia victim would be out playing all kinds of sports?
"You miss playing sports?" Dr. Turner inquired, misreading Joe's abrupt change in demeanor.
"What makes you think I don't play them anymore?" Joe countered.
"Do you?"
"No," Joe admitted, looking down at his hands. "I miss it," he continued. "A little," he lied unconvincingly. He couldn't help remembering how he had felt when Dr. Bates had told him he couldn't play anymore.
"What about your brother?" Dr. Turner asked, deciding to follow up on the subject at a later date. "Do the two of you get along?"
"Yes," Joe answered, a smile lighting up his features although his blue eyes remained sad because he had lost Frank's trust the night before last. "We do almost everything together," Joe began. "That is, we used to," he amended. "But he's always there when I need him."
"He has never let you down?" Turner asked, lifting a brow in question.
"Never," Joe asserted. "He makes sure I'm up in the mornings. He helps me if I'm having trouble at school. If someone tries to start a fight with me, he steps in before the first punch gets thrown. He goes...went, to all of my games. He's there if I need to talk to someone. Whenever I get depressed, he kind of senses it and gets me to do something to get my mind off of my troubles. And when Iola died and I did something Dad and Mom would have killed me for, he was by my side to make sure I was okay."
Joe's smile turned nostalgic. "He's the ultimate big brother. He's perfect."
Dr. Turner had been busy writing since Joe began talking about Frank. "You depend on Frank a lot?" he asked when Joe finished speaking.
"I guess so," Joe admitted. "I don't know what I would do without him."
"How much older is he?" Turner inquired.
"A year," Joe answered. "He will be starting college next year."
"And when will you start?"
"A year after that," Joe answered.
"Well, I think that's enough for today," Turner said. "I will see you again tomorrow. Mr. Rimes is waiting outside to escort you back to your room."
As Joe exited, Turner made more notes on Joe. The last one expressed concern that Joe's dependency on his older brother may have been a key factor in his condition since Frank's forthcoming departure seemed to be bringing out feelings of desertion.
Dr. Turner was a tall, lean man with rich, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a brown beard and mustache that made him look older than his thirty-six years. He sat watching Joe silently, his eyes never leaving Joe's face although Joe kept glancing away from him nervously.
When Joe had been admitted to the foundation, Dr. Turner and the other members of the staff, had wondered if perhaps Fenton Hardy were conducting some sort of investigation but after Dr. Holden had examined the youth, no one had believed that theory any more. No one would allow their son to do this to himself for any reason. Dr. Turner took a deep breath and sat up straight in his chair causing Joe to jump and face him once again. 'No', the doctor thought. 'Sad. As far gone as the boy was he doubted whether he would have the bright future his family once hoped for him to have.'
"Hello, Joe. My name is Dr. Jack Turner," he introduced himself. Joe gave a shy smile and a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Do you know why you are here?"
"Because my parents put me here," Joe replied with a trace of pseudo bitterness.
"Well, there is that," acknowledged the doctor. "But they only want you to get well."
"Whatever," Joe replied with a shrug.
"Part of your road to well being requires meeting with me every day," Dr. Turner informed Joe. "You can be uncooperative if you choose but that will only lengthen the amount of time you remain in the foundation." Joe shot him a sour look. "Anything you tell me will not leave this room," he continued. "But in order to make progress; you need to be honest with me." After a brief hesitation, Joe gave him a curt nod. "Good. Shall we begin?" he asked. Receiving no reply but still holding Joe's attention, he continued. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable and tell me a little bit about your family?"
"What do you want to know?" Joe countered, a note of suspicion creeping unintentionally into his voice.
"Do you always get defensive when someone asks about your family?" Turner asked.
Joe opened his mouth to deny the subtle accusation but closed it again. 'Do I?' he wondered. "Only when it's someone I don't know very well," Joe finally replied.
"You think everyone has an ulterior motive?" inquired Turner.
"No," Joe snapped defensively. "It's just, well, with what Dad does, we were taught to be careful what we tell people."
"How long has your father been a private investigator?"
"About thirteen years," Joe answered.
"And what did he do before that?" Turner asked.
"He was a police officer with the New York City Police Department," Joe answered truthfully. So far, he could find no reason not to answer what he had been asked honestly.
"So you were raised in an environment that required a certain amount of vigilance to maintain safety?"
"I guess so," Joe agreed with a shrug. "We always kept the alarm on at night and sometimes, Dad had us put in a safe house until he finished a case he was working on."
"How did you feel on those occasions?" Dr, Turner inquired.
"It didn't mess up my life if that's what you're implying," Joe said angrily. "My mom and Frank were there. I felt safe."
"And if you were aware of feeling safe that means there was a time that you didn't," stated the doctor making a note on his clipboard.
"No!" shouted Joe, getting to his feet. "Did I?" He looked at Dr. Turner with a woebegone expression. The doctor did make sense.
"Relax," Dr. Turner instructed Joe. "It's perfectly natural to be scared. Any child would have been." Joe still did not look convinced but he did return to his seat on the sofa. "A child without any fear is one I would be worried about," the doctor tried to reassure Joe.
"You wanted to know about my family," Joe said, leaning back against the sofa and looking at the doctor. He wanted to change the subject.
"Yes," agreed Dr. Turner, unobtrusively writing down that Joe was defensive and chose to change the subject rather than continue in the vein the conversation had been going.
"My dad's super," Joe said. "He always takes time to listen to me when I want to talk to him and if he's home, he always goes to my games."
"Does he miss many of them?"
"Some," Joe admitted. "But I can't expect him to be there for all of them, can I? What he does is very important."
"And your mother?"
"She used to attend all of my games but now she only goes to the special ones," Joe answered.
"Do you know why she stopped going to all of them?" Dr. Turner asked.
Joe shrugged. "She started volunteering for the Red Cross and that takes up a lot of her time now," he explained. "And she isn't really into sports. Look, don't go making notes about me hating my mom. I told her she didn't have to come to any of my games but she's the one who insists on coming to the big ones." Joe's voice broke off as he realized what he was saying. He was supposed to be reserved! What kind of an anorexia victim would be out playing all kinds of sports?
"You miss playing sports?" Dr. Turner inquired, misreading Joe's abrupt change in demeanor.
"What makes you think I don't play them anymore?" Joe countered.
"Do you?"
"No," Joe admitted, looking down at his hands. "I miss it," he continued. "A little," he lied unconvincingly. He couldn't help remembering how he had felt when Dr. Bates had told him he couldn't play anymore.
"What about your brother?" Dr. Turner asked, deciding to follow up on the subject at a later date. "Do the two of you get along?"
"Yes," Joe answered, a smile lighting up his features although his blue eyes remained sad because he had lost Frank's trust the night before last. "We do almost everything together," Joe began. "That is, we used to," he amended. "But he's always there when I need him."
"He has never let you down?" Turner asked, lifting a brow in question.
"Never," Joe asserted. "He makes sure I'm up in the mornings. He helps me if I'm having trouble at school. If someone tries to start a fight with me, he steps in before the first punch gets thrown. He goes...went, to all of my games. He's there if I need to talk to someone. Whenever I get depressed, he kind of senses it and gets me to do something to get my mind off of my troubles. And when Iola died and I did something Dad and Mom would have killed me for, he was by my side to make sure I was okay."
Joe's smile turned nostalgic. "He's the ultimate big brother. He's perfect."
Dr. Turner had been busy writing since Joe began talking about Frank. "You depend on Frank a lot?" he asked when Joe finished speaking.
"I guess so," Joe admitted. "I don't know what I would do without him."
"How much older is he?" Turner inquired.
"A year," Joe answered. "He will be starting college next year."
"And when will you start?"
"A year after that," Joe answered.
"Well, I think that's enough for today," Turner said. "I will see you again tomorrow. Mr. Rimes is waiting outside to escort you back to your room."
As Joe exited, Turner made more notes on Joe. The last one expressed concern that Joe's dependency on his older brother may have been a key factor in his condition since Frank's forthcoming departure seemed to be bringing out feelings of desertion.