Chapter 3 - Perry’s Quiet Room
The next morning Perry met Dr. Celeste Ward.
Child psychologist.
Not for an interrogation.
For safety.
She explained to me first:
“Do not ask him how many times he was locked in.”
“Okay.”
“Do not ask whether Dad told Grandma.”
“Okay.”
“We’ll let facts develop.”
Fine.
Perry played with dinosaur figures.
Then, over several sessions, a pattern emerged.
The laundry closet had been called:
Quiet room.
It started three weeks earlier.
Not every day.
Three confirmed incidents before the dinner.
First:
Perry cried because Reid would not let him interrupt a work call.
Constance sent him into laundry room.
Door closed.
Not locked.
Five minutes.
Second:
He came out repeatedly during a dinner with Reid’s colleagues.
Reid placed the pillow and blanket in the room himself.
Told Perry:
“If you can’t stay upstairs quietly, you can settle in here where you won’t bother anyone.”
Perry chose upstairs that night.
Third:
Constance put him inside after he shouted during bedtime.
Door closed.
Perry said:
“Daddy did button.”
Button?
The sliding bolt.
Had Reid locked it?
Perry could not clearly say.
He remembered Reid standing outside.
Then the night I came home:
Constance physically shoved him inside and locked the bolt.
That one I knew.
Then sleep.
Had he slept inside?
Once.
Maybe twice.
Clinical interviews are not accounting audits.
We did not force certainty.
One clearly documented night:
He fell asleep there after crying.
Reid carried him upstairs around midnight.
Perry remembered waking in bed.
The blanket returned to closet next day.
That explained why it was already there.
Then:
“Why was he practicing?”
Dr. Ward did not answer me until after speaking with Perry carefully.
“He appears to believe his father was preparing him to sleep at Constance’s house more often.”
No surprise.
Then:
“He says Reid told him, ‘Mom will be working more soon and Grandma’s house might be your weekday house for a while.’”
I closed my eyes.
I had recently accepted a promotion.
Travel:
Two nights every other week for three months.
Not enough to surrender primary custody.
Reid had used my work as story.
Then:
“Perry believes you agreed.”
Of course.
May you like
Everybody believed I agreed.
Except me.
