The Rosie Effect
Page 42
Rosie was barely awake when I joined her in bed.
‘Sounds like you had a nice chat,’ she said.
‘To begin with, this case should never have come to trial,’ I said, Atticus Finch defending the innocent Tom Robinson, scapegoated because of a minor genetic difference.
Rosie smiled. ‘Sorry, Mr Peck, I’m stuffed. Good night.’
Although I had described the group of males with whom I had recently watched baseball and eaten hamburgers as a men’s group, my suggestion that we formalise it was not well received by George.
‘I’m already in one,’ he said. ‘It’s ruined my life.’
‘Obviously, you should leave it. Join a more suitable one.’
‘Ah, but it made my life, too. I owe it.’ I realised he was talking about the Dead Kings.
‘You don’t want to watch the ballgame with us? And converse on non-baseball topics between innings?’
‘That’s fine by me. Just no beating drums. I get enough of that at work. Are Casanova and the big guy coming?’
I mentally mapped the two descriptions to Gene and Dave and answered after only a brief pause. ‘Correct.’
‘I’ll get my drinking shoes on.’
16
Calculon wants to connect with you on Skype.
I didn’t know anyone called Calculon. One of the advantages of having a small number of friends is that communications are easily filtered. I ignored the request. The next evening I had an actual message from Calculon: It’s me, Eugenie.
I accepted the invitation and within seconds my computer was ringing.
‘Greetings, Eugenie.’ Her image came into view.
‘Oh gross!’
I recognised the problem from previous conversations with Simon Lefebvre, my Melbourne research colleague.
‘This is my office. It has its own toilet. I’m not currently using it except as a seat.’
‘Weird. I’m definitely going to tell Mum. Except I’m not supposed to be talking to you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I did what you said. I made it into a joke.’
‘What did you make into a joke?’
‘This girl was saying my dad had like a hundred girlfriends, so I said that’s because he’s so cool. And your dad is so not cool he could only score your mother, who’s a troll.’
‘Like someone who guards a bridge?’
Eugenie laughed. ‘No, it’s someone who’s annoying on social media. Dad said she was one. Anyhow, everyone started laughing at this girl instead of me, and then another girl dobbed us all in and we’ve all got a week’s detention and Mum got a note. So now we’re all picking on her.’
‘On your mother?’
‘No, the girl who reported us.’
‘Maybe you should have a schedule, a roster, of whose turn it is to be bullied. It would avoid unfairness.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But the problem is solved?’
‘We have another problem.’ She looked very serious. ‘Carl.’
‘He’s also being bullied?’
‘No. He says if Dad ever comes back he’s going to kill him. Because of the girlfriends.’ Eugenie’s voice indicated emotion. I detected a risk of crying. ‘And I really want Dad to come back.’ Prediction correct. Eugenie was now crying.
‘It won’t be possible to solve the problem while you’re emotionally incapacitated,’ I said.
‘Can you talk to Carl? He won’t talk to Dad.’
Carl’s stepmother is a clinical psychologist. His father is head of the Department of Psychology at a major university. Now I—a physical scientist hardwired to understand logic and ideas ahead of interpersonal dynamics—had been selected to counsel their son.
I needed help. Fortunately, it was readily available in the person of Rosie.
‘Gene’s son wants to kill him,’ I said.
‘He’ll have to wait in line. I can’t believe it—he’s out with Inge again, isn’t he?’
‘Correct. I’ve attempted to warn her. What do I say to Carl?’
‘Nothing. You can’t take responsibility for everyone’s life. The person who needs to talk to Carl is Gene. He’s Carl’s father. And your housemate. For the last six weeks. Which we need to talk about.’
‘There’s a vast list of things we need to talk about.’
‘I know, but not now, okay? I’ll lose my train of thought.’
Two hours later, I knocked on her door and entered. There was screwed-up printer paper on the floor. Screwing it up made it impossible to re-use and more bulky for disposal. I diagnosed frustration on Rosie’s part as well.
‘Do you require assistance?’
‘No, I can do it. It’s just so fucking annoying. I talked to Stefan on Skype and it all made sense, and now it doesn’t. I don’t know how I’m going to get it done in the next three weeks.’
‘Does that have serious implications?’
‘You know I’m supposed to get it finished over the vacation. Which I might have been able to do if I didn’t have baby brain or have to worry about Gene’s problems. And my medical appointments. Which I made, by the way. The ultrasound is next Tuesday at 2.00 p.m. Is that okay with you?’
‘It’s almost two weeks overdue.’
‘My doctor said twelve weeks was fine.’
‘Twelve weeks and three days. The Book specifies eight to eleven weeks. A published consensus is more reliable than the opinion of one practitioner.’
‘Sounds like you had a nice chat,’ she said.
‘To begin with, this case should never have come to trial,’ I said, Atticus Finch defending the innocent Tom Robinson, scapegoated because of a minor genetic difference.
Rosie smiled. ‘Sorry, Mr Peck, I’m stuffed. Good night.’
Although I had described the group of males with whom I had recently watched baseball and eaten hamburgers as a men’s group, my suggestion that we formalise it was not well received by George.
‘I’m already in one,’ he said. ‘It’s ruined my life.’
‘Obviously, you should leave it. Join a more suitable one.’
‘Ah, but it made my life, too. I owe it.’ I realised he was talking about the Dead Kings.
‘You don’t want to watch the ballgame with us? And converse on non-baseball topics between innings?’
‘That’s fine by me. Just no beating drums. I get enough of that at work. Are Casanova and the big guy coming?’
I mentally mapped the two descriptions to Gene and Dave and answered after only a brief pause. ‘Correct.’
‘I’ll get my drinking shoes on.’
16
Calculon wants to connect with you on Skype.
I didn’t know anyone called Calculon. One of the advantages of having a small number of friends is that communications are easily filtered. I ignored the request. The next evening I had an actual message from Calculon: It’s me, Eugenie.
I accepted the invitation and within seconds my computer was ringing.
‘Greetings, Eugenie.’ Her image came into view.
‘Oh gross!’
I recognised the problem from previous conversations with Simon Lefebvre, my Melbourne research colleague.
‘This is my office. It has its own toilet. I’m not currently using it except as a seat.’
‘Weird. I’m definitely going to tell Mum. Except I’m not supposed to be talking to you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I did what you said. I made it into a joke.’
‘What did you make into a joke?’
‘This girl was saying my dad had like a hundred girlfriends, so I said that’s because he’s so cool. And your dad is so not cool he could only score your mother, who’s a troll.’
‘Like someone who guards a bridge?’
Eugenie laughed. ‘No, it’s someone who’s annoying on social media. Dad said she was one. Anyhow, everyone started laughing at this girl instead of me, and then another girl dobbed us all in and we’ve all got a week’s detention and Mum got a note. So now we’re all picking on her.’
‘On your mother?’
‘No, the girl who reported us.’
‘Maybe you should have a schedule, a roster, of whose turn it is to be bullied. It would avoid unfairness.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘But the problem is solved?’
‘We have another problem.’ She looked very serious. ‘Carl.’
‘He’s also being bullied?’
‘No. He says if Dad ever comes back he’s going to kill him. Because of the girlfriends.’ Eugenie’s voice indicated emotion. I detected a risk of crying. ‘And I really want Dad to come back.’ Prediction correct. Eugenie was now crying.
‘It won’t be possible to solve the problem while you’re emotionally incapacitated,’ I said.
‘Can you talk to Carl? He won’t talk to Dad.’
Carl’s stepmother is a clinical psychologist. His father is head of the Department of Psychology at a major university. Now I—a physical scientist hardwired to understand logic and ideas ahead of interpersonal dynamics—had been selected to counsel their son.
I needed help. Fortunately, it was readily available in the person of Rosie.
‘Gene’s son wants to kill him,’ I said.
‘He’ll have to wait in line. I can’t believe it—he’s out with Inge again, isn’t he?’
‘Correct. I’ve attempted to warn her. What do I say to Carl?’
‘Nothing. You can’t take responsibility for everyone’s life. The person who needs to talk to Carl is Gene. He’s Carl’s father. And your housemate. For the last six weeks. Which we need to talk about.’
‘There’s a vast list of things we need to talk about.’
‘I know, but not now, okay? I’ll lose my train of thought.’
Two hours later, I knocked on her door and entered. There was screwed-up printer paper on the floor. Screwing it up made it impossible to re-use and more bulky for disposal. I diagnosed frustration on Rosie’s part as well.
‘Do you require assistance?’
‘No, I can do it. It’s just so fucking annoying. I talked to Stefan on Skype and it all made sense, and now it doesn’t. I don’t know how I’m going to get it done in the next three weeks.’
‘Does that have serious implications?’
‘You know I’m supposed to get it finished over the vacation. Which I might have been able to do if I didn’t have baby brain or have to worry about Gene’s problems. And my medical appointments. Which I made, by the way. The ultrasound is next Tuesday at 2.00 p.m. Is that okay with you?’
‘It’s almost two weeks overdue.’
‘My doctor said twelve weeks was fine.’
‘Twelve weeks and three days. The Book specifies eight to eleven weeks. A published consensus is more reliable than the opinion of one practitioner.’
