That made Iris smile. “I know. He’s priceless. I want him to get his counseling credentials and work in my office.”

Phil chuckled. “Good luck with that. I think he’ll be on the slopes, not going back to school in his free time. What’s his game? Snowboarding or skiing?”

“I don’t really know,” she said.

“Well, it was a lucky day I was so short-staffed he got the job before I even had a chance to take a closer look at him. So go—make your call. I’ll be anxious to hear what comes next.”

* * *

Iris was somewhat disappointed but not entirely surprised by the response. She spoke to a case worker who specialized in dating abuse. First, the woman gave Iris the statistics, which were awful. Then she outlined the procedure—the investigation and interviews of those involved, including the families of the teenagers. She listed several academic articles on the subject, many of which Iris remembered reading in her own case studies in postgrad counseling. And finally, she gave her the bad news.

“It’s a busy time and I’m only one person,” Connie Franklin said. “I’ll certainly follow up at my earliest available time, bearing in mind we’re coming into the holidays. Holidays for some families are harder than for others and I’m in demand. But I will follow up and I’ll keep your name out of it while I can.”

“They’re going to know at once,” Iris said. “As I said, I interviewed the girl and her best friend. They’ll know it was me.”

“The risk of our jobs, I’m afraid,” Connie said.

“Listen, make your life simple—call Dr. Scott Grant. The girl had a concussion that was supposed to have been caused by slipping on an icy step. I don’t remember any ice-over in Thunder Point. That doesn’t mean her front step wasn’t icy, but it bears looking at. Dr. Grant admitted her to the hospital. I assume emergency workers and hospital employees are also mandatory reporters and should have investigated the possibility of abuse.”

“I’ll do that. In the meantime, if anything more comes up, do call me. When things like this escalate from reporting to emergency, this agency can move mountains.”

“I don’t know if I want that or not,” Iris said.

“I understand completely.”

“How do you do it? Take complaints like this daily and pursue them?”

“The same way you do, Iris. One minute at a time.”

* * *

Iris was nestled into Seth’s arms late at night when she told him about the day.

“I’ve never had this before,” she said. “I’ve never had a lover who cared about my boring high school life.”

“I’m a little glad about that,” he said.

“Something has really bothered me all day. Girls aren’t the only ones who get abused. Boys get emotionally abused by girls all the time, and usually they don’t know it. Sometimes women are physically abusive.”

He chuckled. “You’re talking about me,” he said.

“Seth, I hit you! I knocked you down! You could have filed charges, taken me to jail. I hit you!”

“How many men have you hit, Iris?”

“I think only you. I can’t remember another one. Since I was ten, anyway. But it’s so wrong. I was complaining to Phil that I hadn’t put together a program about abuse and what to do about it and it came to me that I was an awful kid.”

“I don’t know about that. You thought you were a boy for a long time. Listen, kids get into it, strike out. Then they get disciplined and taught that you can’t solve problems by hitting and hopefully through that, along with good examples, they learn that isn’t the answer. That it’s wrong.”

“But I hit you a couple of months ago.”

“Got off a good one, too,” he said, laughing. “I’m not letting you do that again, by the way.”

“I could’ve hurt you.”

“No offense, Iris, but you hit like a girl.”

“We should do better. Of all people, I should know better than to lash out like that.”

He nuzzled her neck. “I admit, I’m completely surprised to find out you’re human. Welcome to the club.”

“Do you have anyone to talk to, Seth? To tell your feelings to? To complain to, to get sympathy from?”

“Huh?” he asked.

She took a breath. “Boys can be so much more alone than girls. Girls dump on their girlfriends, their mothers, sometimes teachers. But it takes a lot for a boy to do that, to admit he’s worried or afraid or anything.”

“It doesn’t seem to be part of our training. We’re trained from an early age to be tough and stoic.”

“When I was in my postgrad program, part of the training was a volunteer assignment in one of the help centers. I worked on a crisis line. We had a guy call in. He said he was leaving the next morning for the trip of a lifetime, a vacation he’d looked forward to all his life. He said he was so excited he couldn’t sleep. It was after midnight. The supervisor was listening in and we were all sure there must be something more to this call. We kept him on the phone for over two hours, asking him key questions, pretty convinced he must be suicidal or something. Who calls a crisis line in the middle of the night to talk about his trip? Well, it turned out he was just a guy taking the trip of a lifetime, something he’d saved for and planned for years. And he called the crisis line because he didn’t have anyone else to talk to. He didn’t have anyone he could tell.”

Seth rose up on an elbow and looked down at her. “Thursday is Thanksgiving. I’m taking part of the day off—first time I’ve had Thanksgiving with my whole family in years. I look forward to it because you’re going to be there. We’re dividing up the schedule on Thursday and Friday—I’ll work till about four, spell the guys for long meal breaks so they can be with their families. But after that, I’m taking the weekend off. I want to take you somewhere. I have someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?” she asked.

“Someone I talk to. Now let it go. Be surprised.”

* * *

Iris couldn’t remember when she’d last been so nervous and excited about Thanksgiving. She’d had many a holiday meal with the Sileskis, Seth being away or working for the larger share of them over the past sixteen years or so. She knew everyone in the family. But this time she was a guest with a new status. This time she was Seth’s significant other.

She worked it out with Gwen what she could contribute and had been assigned sweet potato pie, which turned out to be a challenge. Gwen’s daughter-in-law, Sandy, was bringing the green bean casserole, some kind of mushroom dish that she said everyone hated but Sandy couldn’t live without and a cranberry-and-orange mold filled with nuts and marshmallows. Gwen was taking on the turkey, potatoes and trimmings.

Iris went next door early, hoping she could help with other chores like setting the table, washing up serving dishes that were rarely used, anything. Of course, Seth was not there yet. He was watching the town. But Gwen was in a dither, waddling around the house like Edith Bunker. She wanted everything to be perfect.

“It looks like it is perfect, Gwen. What can I do to help?” Iris asked.