Perfect Little Angels

by Andrew Neiderman

  “Hello there, Kevin, Elaine,” he said, “and welcome to Elysian Fields. I’m Dr. Felix Lawrence.”

  “Come in. Please,” Kevin responded. He and Elaine stepped back, and Dr. Lawrence entered the house quickly.

  Despite her mood, Justine couldn’t help but be curious about the founder of Elysian Fields. His house, the story about his son, his glorious reputation all made him a very intriguing man. As soon as he appeared at the entrance to the living room, she stood up.

  “And this is Justine,” he said, as if he had met her before or had seen her picture somewhere. He made her feel as if she were greeting a long lost uncle.

  “Yes, it is,” Elaine said.

  As Dr. Lawrence approached her, Justine noted how he held his shoulders back in a stern, almost military posture. He wore a dark jacket, a tightly knotted light brown tie, and a cream-colored shirt. Although he was cleanly shaven, his complexion was so dark, it suggested a Middle Eastern background. There was a handsome quality to his finely chiseled features and firm mouth. His jawbone was a trifle sharp, but it added to his intense look.

  He reminded Justine of Mr. Donnely, a teacher back at her old school. She’d had such a crush on Mr. Donnely that she’d found excuses to stay after class.

  “Hi, Justine,” Dr. Lawrence said.

  “Hi.”

  He shifted the carton to his left hand and held out his right. She shook it, expecting a quick, almost instantaneous squeeze and release. But he held onto her hand, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  His smile was warm and his eyes full of interest, but she couldn’t help being self-conscious. His gaze was so intense, he made her feel naked. She felt a soft flush stain her neck and cheeks.

  Finally, he turned to her parents. “Sorry I wasn’t here to greet you as you were moving in, but I had to be out of town. I hope you were warmly welcomed.”

  “We couldn’t have had a better reception,” Kevin said.

  “Oh, yes,” Elaine agreed. “Everyone’s been so helpful and friendly.”

  “That’s my development,” Dr. Lawrence said, as if he not only had owned the land, but owned the inhabitants, as well.

  “Please, come into our living room,” Elaine invited. “Things aren’t totally organized yet, but I’m sure you’ll forgive us.”

  “Don’t fuss over me. I just came by to officially welcome you to one of America’s finest communities, and present you with this.” He handed Kevin the small carton. “When you open it, you’ll find enough of my vitamin formula to last your family more than a year. And when that’s all used, there’ll be more.”

  “Thank you so much,” Kevin said. “We have heard a great deal about it. Please, have a seat.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Elaine asked.

  “No, thank you, nothing for me. So,” he said, following her farther into the living room, “I hope you find our little community comfortable.” He nodded approvingly at the furniture and the handful of wall ornaments Elaine had put up. She had hung one of her early landscapes above the couch and he smiled at it appreciatively.

  “We love it,” Kevin said. “Every bit of it.”

  “Of course, I’ve got to get used to the wide open, quiet space,” Elaine said, indicating that Dr. Lawrence should take a seat. The doctor settled in Justine’s favorite big blue cushioned chair, just across from her, smiling at her all the time. “I’ve been a city girl all my life,” Elaine added.

  “So I hear. It won’t take you long to shake the noise and turmoil out of your ears, believe me. After a month here, you’ll think you lived here all your life,” Dr. Lawrence responded. His smile evaporated quickly, and his face took on an intensely serious look.

  “That’s what people tell us—in almost exactly those words.” Kevin sat on the couch beside Elaine and Justine.

  “Well, it’s true. A number of years ago, I sat in my house on the hill and looked out over these beautiful grounds and said to myself, Felix, what a location for a picturesque community. What a waste, what selfishness it was to keep it all to myself. And so I began the development.”

  “You’ve certainly created a paradise,” Elaine said.

  “And designed it all yourself, we understand,” Kevin said.

  “Well, I dabble in things. I understand you’re something of an artist, Elaine,” he said, nodding at the painting.

  Elaine blanched and looked at Kevin. “No, I’m just…”

  “Oh, never say I’m just anything, Elaine,” the doctor said, shaking his head. “You’re never just anything.” His face tightened with intensity. “If you have an inclination toward art, that’s something significant. I hope being out here will stimulate the creative juices. Perhaps one of these days I’ll come by to purchase an Elaine Freeman original,” he added, smiling.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Elaine blushed and looked at Justine, who was fascinated with the way the doctor spoke. There was something about him that held her attention. When he did speak to her parents, he was constantly aware of her presence, too, and directed his attention more at her than at them, she thought. Usually adults made her feel like another piece of furniture when they sat and talked with her parents; but not this man. He was different.

  “I do know. It’s part of my business to build people’s confidence. And when they have a real talent to begin with, that task becomes easier. So, Kevin,” he said, turning his attention to Justine’s father, “you work with Michael and handle tax cases, I understand.”

  “Yes, but one of these days I’ll get to do some of the more dramatic law Michael handles.”

  “You mean the malpractice cases?” Dr. Lawrence winked. “I know what you lawyers are all about.” He laughed. “You don’t have to worry about me, though. I recognize the need sometimes to protect the victims. I’ve testified on behalf of patients myself, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Emotional problems, procedural things…” He waved the air as though he wanted to chase away the topic as one would shoo away a fly. “But even you will find that living here is stimulating career-wise. It will make you a better attorney. You’ll be more relaxed.” He looked directly at Justine and smiled. “You’ll worry less about Justine—not that you worry about her much, I imagine. How about it, Justine? Do they bug you like most parents bug their children these days?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, glancing back at her parents. “Yeah, I guess they do.”

  “What’s that?” Elaine said, feigning indignation. Everyone laughed.

  “Michael tells us you’ve counseled just about every teenager in this development,” Kevin said.

  “A little exaggeration. I have seen many, off and on. I’m nearby, easily available, and inexpensive,” he added. He turned to Justine again, apparently impatient with anything that pulled his attention from her. “You’ve got a pretty daughter who takes after her mother,” he added, nodding at Kevin.

  Justine couldn’t help but blush.

  “Agreed,” Kevin said.

  “Thank you,” Elaine said.

  “Justine, you’re going to like it here. I know you miss your friends back in the city, and you probably think these kids are different or snobby or boring, but after a short while, you’ll be one of Sandburg Creek’s and Elysian Fields’ biggest cheerleaders,” Dr. Lawrence predicted.

  Justine shrugged.

  “She’s a little nervous about it all,” Elaine said.

  “Of course. That’s understandable. Even expected. Well, any time you have trouble adjusting or even if you just feel like talking, feel free to call on me, okay? No charge for pretty girls,” he added. Justine smiled. “And when you smile, you’re even prettier.”

  “Thank you,” Justine said. She didn’t know what to make of an adult who was so direct and flattering.

  “Well, I won’t hold you people up any longer. I know you’ve got plenty to do,” he said quickly.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Elaine said. “We were just relaxing,
anyway. Right, Kev?”

  Kevin nodded as he studied the doctor’s gift. “These vitamins are supposedly quite the thing.”

  “Been out for five years with remarkable results,” Dr. Lawrence said, sitting back proudly.

  “What do you call them?” Elaine asked.

  “Simple name for a complex thing,” Dr. Lawrence said. “I call them ‘The Good Pill.’”

  “I’ve never seen them in the health stores,” Elaine said. “Or I’d remember that.”

  “I haven’t put them on the open market just yet. I’m not really in the vitamin business, but I can tell you they are being used by America’s astronauts even as we speak.” He turned to Justine. “Do you take vitamins, Justine?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, you’re never too young for vitamins, and you never get enough of the right amounts in today’s processed foods. I have what some might call a holistic approach to mental well-being. I think emotional health is dependent upon good nutrition, as well as other things.”

  “If Michael Duke and his family are examples of people on your vitamin, that’s enough for us,” Kevin said. “Justine will be taking them, too.”

  “Good. If you don’t mind, I’d like to hear about it. I don’t mean to sound as though I’m checking up on Justine,” he added quickly. “What I mean is, I’d like to hear how you all feel after you’ve been on them a while.”

  “Sure,” Kevin said.

  “Not that we need any more proof of its success; it just makes me feel good. Sort of like the father of the child, proud, if you know what I mean.”

  “Sure do,” Kevin said.

  “Well, fine. I’m on my way.” He stood up quickly, and so did Justine and her parents. “Once again,” he said, taking Kevin’s hand, “welcome and best of luck to you and your family.”

  Justine watched as the doctor gripped her father’s hand and stared directly into his eyes, as would a hypnotist.

  “Thanks again,” Kevin said.

  “Elaine, I meant that about one of your pictures,” he said, looking up at the landscape. “I sense a certain sensitivity to things natural. You’re going to flourish as an artist here,” Dr. Lawrence said, then headed for the door.

  “I’ll be happy just to do work good enough for my own home,” she said.

  “Uh, uh, uh.” Dr. Lawrence paused at the door. “There you go again, underestimating yourself. Be confident, and you will be good,” he said, his eyes catching hers and holding them for a long moment. She brought her hand to her throat and smiled.

  “So long, Justine.” He winked. “The moment you have trouble with your parents, pick up the phone.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

  Elaine and Kevin followed the doctor to the door and watched him walk down the flagstone path to his car. He waved before getting in.

  “What a charming man,” she said as he pulled away.

  “Really is. You can feel his enthusiasm. When he took my hand, I felt energized,” Kevin said.

  “And wasn’t it nice of him to learn so much about us before coming? He knew Justine’s name, that I paint…”

  “I didn’t like him,” Justine said, still standing behind them.

  “What? Why, honey?” Elaine asked.

  “He was too…too nice,” she said. “I don’t trust people who are too nice.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Kevin said. “You trust some of those city freaks you go around with, but you don’t trust a nationally known doctor?”

  “I don’t go around with freaks,” Justine protested.

  “Kevin.” Elaine grimaced.

  “Well, why would she say she didn’t like him, for god’s sake?” He raised both his arms in frustration. “What did he do that would turn anyone off? As far as I can see, he’s everything Michael said he was. You couldn’t tell from talking with him that he was such an important man. He’s not arrogant; he’s almost like the guy-next-door. Why doesn’t she see that?” he demanded.

  “She’s only a teenager, Kevin. She’s not going to have the same reactions to people.”

  Justine’s father shook his head.

  “I’m just being honest,” Justine said. “And I’m not going to take his stupid vitamins.”

  “Oh, yes you are, young lady,” Kevin said. “I’ve been meaning to get you onto vitamins, anyway. Maybe that’s why you’ve been so lethargic lately.”

  “Vitamins can’t hurt you, Justine,” Elaine said. “And you heard the Dukes talk about them.”

  “We’ll all take them, once a day,” Kevin said. “We need them.” He went over to the carton and tore open the cover. “He wasn’t kidding,” he said, reading the label on a bottle. “They’re called ‘The Good Pill.’ How’s that?”

  “Stupid,” Justine said.

  He opened the bottle and poured three pills out into his palm. “Come on. Let’s toast our first meeting with the famous Dr. Lawrence and the beginning of a healthy, happy life in Elysian Fields.”

  “I can’t take a vitamin without water,” Justine protested.

  “So, let’s get some water.” He headed toward the kitchen. “Justine.”

  “Do I have to?”

  “It’s a good idea, honey,” her mother said, “a good habit to get into.”

  Reluctantly, Justine followed her parents into the kitchen and took the cup of water.

  “Open,” her father instructed. He placed a vitamin pill in Justine’s mouth, the way a priest would place a communion wafer there. Then he lifted his cup.

  “To us,” he said. Elaine put a vitamin pill into her mouth, and they each swallowed a pill. “There. Now we’ll be just as healthy as the rest of the people who live here,” Kevin Freeman said.

  He stood staring out of his bedroom window, looking down at the development. For a long time now, he thought of it the way he used to think of toy houses and toy people. There was something unreal about it all, and, in his father’s eyes, Elysian Fields was indeed a toy world.

  Sometimes, when he looked down at the houses and people, they seemed so tiny. He imagined how his father must feel—gigantic and powerful, able to reach down at any time and move them at will. He could make them almost anything he wanted to make them—happy or sad, angry or docile. He knew that his father had been doing it to him. The nurse had shown him proof. Confronting him with it was part of the treatment.

  There were pictures of things he loved, pictures he had torn to shreds.

  “Why did you do this?” he asked her.

  “You did it,” she said.

  He didn’t believe her, so she made him watch the videotape that showed him attacking the pictures. He couldn’t believe the hateful expression on his face, the intensity with which he’d sliced the pictures or ripped them apart. And his self-loathing had been so great, he’d even destroyed pictures of himself.

  In the beginning, he hadn’t cared what was done to him. Right at this moment, he couldn’t remember why he’d felt that way, but he remembered that he had. Sometimes isolated words returned to his memory, words like “embarrassment,” “freak,” and “killer,” and those words made him feel so bad that he didn’t mind the physical and emotional torture.

  But now he was starting to resent it. He couldn’t put it into words yet, not words that made any sense to him. It was just a new feeling. Something bothered him. But when he tried to focus on it, his mind went blank. No matter how he struggled, he was unable to recall. He imagined that this memory lapse was also his father’s doing.

  His father was like God. His father gave and took away. His father made pronouncements and dictated commandments. His father created miracles, or at least some miracles. He couldn’t or he wouldn’t change the past. Actually, he was no longer sure what his father could and could not do. That was all blurred. He would have to wait to see.

  He saw his father’s car weaving through the development, the black vehicle moving like some large insect, prowling the quiet streets, looking for a n
ew opportunity to pounce. Sure enough, he found one, for he stopped at one of the houses, the house that was actually the closest to his. It had been empty for so long, he hadn’t thought much about it; but from what he could see now, there were new toy people inside.

  He caught a glimpse of his father getting out of his car with one of his cartons tucked in the crook of his arm. The carton contained a mousetrap to be set in the house. Soon it would snap over the inhabitants and squeeze them silly. They would only get relief when his father deemed it necessary.

  It was the same for him.

  He stood there, staring down until his father emerged from the toy house and slipped into his large black insect. The vehicle crawled up the rest of the hill and turned into the driveway to disappear in its cocoon. Soon afterward, he heard the sound of doors opening and closing, and then he heard voices.

  First his father was on the phone, and then he was conferring with the nurse. Moments later, his father was at his door. He felt him come in.

  That was something his father didn’t know he could do. He had spent so much time in this room, it had become a part of him. There were invisible threads, no bigger than the threads spun by a spider, connecting him to the walls, the ceiling, and the floor. His blood traveled through those threads and into the walls that actually had begun to pulsate with his life. He could feel it every time he placed the palm of his hand against it or pressed his cheek against its cool surface.

  The walls had become walls of his flesh; the windows were his new eyes and ears. He wouldn’t have to get up out of his bed to see out of the room or hear what was going on outside. It would all be brought to him via the invisible, thin threads.

  The door was now an eyelid. When it was opened, he could see into the rest of the house; but when it was closed, he was blind to what went on out there. So, he thought, when his father came through the door, he passed through his eye ball and entered his brain.

  But he had been doing that all along, anyway. His father had found all sorts of paths into his brain. He came in through his ears and mouth and, sometimes, through the strands of his hair, traveling down into the roots. He bounced around in there, scraping and pulling, twisting and turning, molding his brain cells the way a child might mold clay.