The Family Man Read Online Free PDF

applaud this as—I don't know—diplomacy. Progress."
    "Is this about Celeste?"
    He doesn't think so but says, "You could be right. It did seem like an odd coincidence—Denise losing Glenn and me losing Celeste—"
    "Six, seven months apart? Not an earth-shattering coincidence."
    "You're holding my grudge," says Henry. "Wouldn't that qualify as reverse transference?"
    "No such thing," she snaps.
    "You're forgetting the service that Denise provided, the one you drilled into me, that if she hadn't abandoned me—"
    "And kidnapped your child."
    "—and kidnapped my child, I might still be hiding in the closet; i.e., Denise did me a favor, broadly speaking."
    "That clean?" she asks. "Denise as knight in shining armor?"
    "She's been humbled. Which seems to be bringing out the best in her."
    "Humbled because her husband died?"
    "No. Humbled because of a prenuptial agreement."
    "She's broke?"
    "Not by most people's standards." He smiles. "Go ahead—ask."
    "What do you think I want to ask?"
    "You're dying to know: Did she come to me for money?"
    "Never crossed my mind."
    "For the record"—and he raises his voice as if dictating directly to the clipboard in her lap—"she did not come to me for money. Besides, I contacted her first."
    "Which I don't necessarily see as a good thing," she counters.
    "You will soon."
    She looks up with a start, as does the deaf black poodle at her feet. "Thalia?" she asks.
    "Thalia," he confirms.
    Ten years before, in late spring, his abandonment and surrender of Thalia had been all he wanted to discuss. At an emergency session Sheri stated, "You know what triggered this, don't you?"
    He had said of course, the math: Thalia was five when the divorce was final, so she had just turned eighteen in June, and therefore must be graduating from high school, imminently.
    "Not that," said his therapist. "Think again. What have you seen lately?"
    "Seen? The inside of my office. Briefs. Second-year law students interviewing for jobs."
    "I won't waste our time," she had said. "The reason we're back to Thalia after all these years is that scene where Billy Bigelow's ghost puts his arm around his daughter at her high school graduation and she feels his presence and holds her head up higher. Am I right?"
    She was right. He'd seen the revival of Carousel in previews and had devoted a good portion of their next session to the talents of Audra McDonald. "But," he countered, "aren't you supposed to point out that Billy Bigelow triggered some very deep feelings, which most mental health professionals wouldn't dismiss out of hand?"
    And now he has dug out the letter assigned but never sent and, in fact, never turned in to Sheri Abrams, harsh vettor of exploratory epistles. In it he had introduced himself as the man who had married the widowed Denise Ellis Wales, mother of Thalia Alexis Wales, whom he'd subsequently adopted and [[strikeout]]cherished loved provided for, all too briefly. The first paragraph was a curriculum vitae, the second a legal thicket, and the third a cri de coeur. He'd loved her as his own true daughter, the only child he'd ever known. He'd been young and selfish when he relinquished his rights and [[strikeout]]now he was alone he'd seen the error of his ways. If he could turn back the clock he'd tear up Glenn Krouch's adoption petition and fight it in the courts. Parentheses followed, citing case law. It was a first draft, on yellow legal notepaper, ending with anemic congratulations on finishing high school. He studies the stillborn postscripts:[[strikeout]] "I hope you'll accept the enclosed gift certificate If you ever needed anyone to talk to Would you kindly apprise me of your college plans?" which had given way to a more democratic, "Perhaps at this juncture you are going on to college or starting a job. I'd love to know what your plans are." And finally, the sentence that was code for I am a man of means and perhaps someone you'd like to know: "I live in a townhouse on West 75th Street. I've