The Halo Effect

It made Rain furious the way everyone was acting like Lucy was some kind of angel.

She sat in the passenger’s seat, and the school yearbook that had triggered her anger almost glowed through the fabric of her backpack as if emitting some kind of radiation. If wishes came true, the book would disappear, evaporate into the ether. In fact, she would have thrown it away, but her mother the customs inspector would ask what happened to it and no doubt was waiting to take possession of it when they got home and would pore through the pages as if they contained a secret code to Rain’s behavior.

Her mother, completely clueless as usual, drove on toward Dr. Mallory’s. At the thought of the session ahead, Rain slid her hand over her outer thigh and pressed down on the latest cut. Her heart beat hard and loud in her chest. It would serve her mother right if she had a stroke or some kind of attack right here in the car. At least that would get her out of her appointment with Dr. Mallory. But no. No such luck. Not even one minute late, they turned into the shrink’s drive. As she made her escape, she grabbed the backpack from the floor.

“Why don’t you leave that with me, dear,” her mother said.

Rain pretended not to hear and, bag slung over her shoulder, walked toward the house for the torture appointment.

“Don’t forget,” her mother called after her. “Duane will pick you up after.”

Right. Like she should get on her knees in gratitude that Duane the Lame had agreed to give her a ride.

Dr. Mallory waited for her inside. “Hello, Rain. How was your week?”

Seriously? Seriously? Did the shrink really think she was going to walk in the door and just start spilling her guts? Well, good luck with that. “Okay.”

“Just okay?”

“I guess.”

“I was just about to pour myself a glass of tea. Can I get you one too?”

Rain wanted to refuse, but thirst stopped her. In fact, she was feeling light-headed.

“Sure. I guess.”

“I made some fresh this morning.” Instead of heading into her office, Dr. Mallory walked toward a door at the end of the hall and disappeared into a separate part of the house. Rain paused. Was she supposed to wait in the hall or what? Then Dr. Mallory called for her to come along, and so she followed the voice through the far doorway, walking past several packing cartons stacked in a hall and into another room, one that smelled of bacon and a hint of wood ash. It contained an oven, refrigerator, table, and sink, so it obviously was the kitchen, but it was unlike any Rain had ever seen. A huge fireplace dominated nearly an entire wall. The brick hearth was flanked by a wooden rocking chair on one side and an armchair upholstered in plaid on the other, the fabric so worn that the stuffing poked through in places. A dog bed in a green-and-blue plaid fabric that matched the chair was placed directly in front of the hearth. The wall adjacent to the fireplace contained shelves from floor to ceiling, each crammed with books. Piles of even more books were stacked on the floor. Rain had never seen so many books outside of the library. The extent of her parents’ book collection would fill one shelf.

“This was originally the living room, but years ago we converted it into the kitchen.” Dr. Mallory retrieved a container of iced tea from the refrigerator and took two tall tumblers down from an open shelf. “Do you take sugar?”

Rain nodded. “Why did you?”

“Why did we what?”

“Why did you switch rooms?”

“Well, it just made sense. My husband and I both liked to cook, and the original kitchen was tiny and dark, not a place you’d want to spend a lot of time in, so we decided to take this large room and turn it into the kitchen. One or two spoonfuls?”

“One.”

Dr. Mallory stirred in the sweetener. “So we took our old sitting room, a larger space with the fireplace, and turned it into this kitchen.” She handed the tea to Rain. “Here you go.”

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Switch rooms around like that.”

“Why on earth not?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought a kitchen had to stay a kitchen. I mean with the plumbing and everything.” The tea tasted faintly of mint and something citrus. Maybe orange.

“Oh, things can always be changed. That’s what Benji said.”

“Who’s Benji?”

“My husband. Benjamin.” She poured herself some tea, added sweetener. “He believed you could change almost anything. He’d say that the secret is first to get very clear on what you want, on what makes sense in your life, whether it’s a kitchen or a career, a garden or a relationship. Once you can visualize it, when you can see it plainly in your head, then you only have to put in the required time and effort to make it happen.”

Rain looked around the kitchen, tried to imagine her own parents turning a sitting room into a kitchen. “It must have been a lot of work.”

“Now that’s another thing Benji understood. How satisfying hard work can be. How rewarding in the end.” Dr. Mallory set her glass on the counter, crossed to one of the shelves, and reached for a framed photo that was braced against the books. She gazed at the image a moment, then handed it to Rain.

Even in the photograph, Rain could see the man was tall. Tall and handsome, with a slender build and white hair. He wore cream-colored pleated pants and a matching V-neck sweater and held an old-fashioned brimmed hat in one hand. Rain couldn’t imagine why he’d married the dwarf shrink. Something about the photograph stirred a meanness in her. “He’s very tall. He looks like some old movie star,” she said. She waited a beat, then added, “Oh, sorry. I mean that about calling him old.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. He was old when that photo was taken. Just a month before he passed.” She took back the frame and returned it to the shelf. “You know, Rain, you must never apologize for speaking a truth.”

Good luck with that. In her experience, telling the truth led to nothing but trouble.

“It’s how we speak a truth that is important. That and the intention behind it.”

“The intention?”

“Yes. Whether we mean to hurt another with our words. Honesty requires a measure of kindness with it.”

Rain’s cheeks warmed.

“I wish he could have met you,” Dr. Mallory continued. “He would have liked you.”

Right. I’m so sure. She knew better than to trust compliments.

“He would have, you know.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for openers, you’re smart. And feisty. Those are qualities he admired. And he’d like the way you question authority.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of people don’t think that’s a good thing.”

“Oh, it may make things tough right now, Rain, but in the long run, it will serve you well. Now let’s get you some more tea, and we’ll head into the office and talk about how I may be able to help you.”

Anne D. LeClaire's books