False Face, False Heart

Away, and mock the time with fairest show:
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
—Macbeth I.vi

Wednesday morning I had an appointment to keep. I’d almost got used to getting up and shaving, then heading to the office at 8:00. This time it was my own office up on 15^th. I had a room and a half in a war-era house rezoned for commercial use. My co-tenants included a two children’s counselors and an accountant. One of the counselors specialized in testing and study habits for ADD and similar learning disabilities. Most of the kids I saw come through here were bright but couldn’t focus in school. I still hadn’t figured out if the accountant had any clients than his three rental mates. We shared the front waiting area. I had the back office and most immediate access to the kitchen. The other three each had one room on the second floor. It was a nice setup, but we were all waiting for our landlord to announce that the building would be torn down to make way for a real office building.

I liked the space. It made me feel like a real entrepreneur and even though I often traveled through cyberspace in my darkened apartment at night, I needed an office where I could actually meet with potential clients. One of those clients had called me Monday night on a referral from the counselor upstairs and he was waiting on the front porch when I got there at 8:30. They. It was a boy about 14 and his father waiting to see me. I motioned them into my office and asked if they would like coffee or chocolate or tea or a soft drink. The dad took the offered coffee with sugar and his son, after getting approval from his father, opted for the hot chocolate. Once we had our drinks, we settled in and I asked how I could help them. They fidgeted a bit with the boy looking at his father.

“Son, it’s okay. He won’t judge. You just have to tell him what’s happening.” The boy nodded, took another sip of chocolate then looked up at me.

“I… I’m being harassed. Online.” It was apparent that there was more than he was saying, but he was still having trouble laying it all out. After a minute I decided on a way to help him.

“Can you show me an example?” He pulled out his tablet and in a few gestures had a popular social network on the screen. He handed it to me. There were a few of the normal messages between friends, but not as many as I expected kids his age would have. Two out of every three posts, however, were derogatory phrases. There were links posted to everything from “Save the Faggot” to “Gay porn.” There were a couple of messages that were subtly threatening—warnings about where not to walk and where fairies weren’t welcome. It was vile and I couldn’t believe the network had allowed this kind of behavior.

“We’ve tried everything,” the father said. “We reported it to the network, flagged the posts, banned various users. Every time one goes away, another pops up. Now it’s spreading on video sites and other networks.”

“My friends aren’t posting anymore because they’re afraid they’ll get harassed too.”

“I take it this is affecting your social life as well,” I said. “It’s all a bunch of lies?”

“No,” the boy said quietly. “It’s true. I’m gay.” He looked down.

“It’s not something to be ashamed of,” I said softly.

“Definitely not,” the father affirmed. He looked directly at me. “We’ve always been open in our house. Daniel’s mother and I accept who our son is without reservation. He doesn’t want us to interfere, but how can we say ‘it will get better,’ if we don’t do something to make it better?” I nodded and smiled at Daniel.

“What would you like me to do, Daniel?” I asked. “If I can get results, what would you like them to be?”

“I’d just like the bullying to stop so my friends will come around again,” he said. “I’ve been talking to Cora, upstairs, about this for a few months now. She finally said I should talk to you and see if you could make it stop.”

“Have you talked to the police?”

“We reported it,” the father replied. “They said it was a sophisticated attack and they didn’t think it was coming from anyone local. They suggested that he block the posters as they crop up.”

I thought about it a few minutes as I scanned through more of the messages. It was sick. If there is anything I dislike as much as a thief, it is a bully. I was ready to take on the case pro bono, just to get a crack at the bastards. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think how lucky this kid was. His father was sitting beside him, ready to fight for him. It was obvious that he loved his son and accepted him just the way he was—without reservation. Looking at the messages written on his profile, it was probably that strong family that had kept him from being a statistic up until now. I got out a contract and filled out the necessary blanks and then handed it to the father to fill in name and contact information.

“I can arrange something regarding the payment, if you’d like,” I said, a little embarrassed. I hate talking about money, but I work for a living.

“It’s not necessary,” the father said. “We’re not rich, but I’m able to pay for the services that you provide. From what I’ve read, your rates are fair. I assume you’ll want some in advance?”

“If you pay for a day’s work in advance, I’ll start right away and see what I can find out. If I can’t get a lead in the first five hours, I’ll refund the balance. I won’t put in more than a day and a half without your approval.” He agreed and wrote a check after signing the contract. While he was filling out his part of the contract, Daniel watched as I used his account to friend one of my own aliases on that network.

“This is me. I won’t be using our connection to post on your page or anything like that. It will just give me access to see what comes across the board. You can contact me with a direct message if you think of anything else I should know. Please send me a list of any other accounts that you are being harassed on as well and I’ll let you know what my alias is. I’ll want to follow any social accounts you have and will want to know anyplace you know of that you are being hazed, even if you don’t have an account there. If friends are getting messages, I need to know. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” he said. “Will you be able to make it stop?”

“My preferred method is to find out who is doing it and turn that information over to the police. If I can’t make a positive ID on the person, I might still be able to make contact and negotiate a stop. If I can’t track down a source, I’ll put some software into place that will block specific kinds of content. But Daniel, you have to tell me all your account aliases, even if they are embarrassing.”

He looked at me a little quizzically, then nodded his head. If the kid was registered on a gay chat room or even had a log-in for gay porn, it could be where his information was leaking out. He understood.

“Thank you.”

“Yes,” said the father. “Thank you very much.” They left. I was already getting angry with this scum.

***

I was finishing up several projects, so I didn’t get started on the bullying case that morning. I really wanted to wait until I had all the information Daniel could give me before I launched my investigation. There was no sense in strong-arming information out of the net if the boy could just tell me.

I grabbed a bite of Indian food across the street from my office and was stewing over how I was going to dig through the CCS data reserves when Andi called me.

“Dag, I’m sorry to bother you but I’m in a pinch.”

“What is it Andi?”

“I’m over at the University and I’m completely tied up and can’t get back to pick up Cali for her rehearsal. Could you swing by school and take her to the theater? I know you have your new job and all, so if it’s a problem, just say so and I’ll have the girls catch the bus. It just takes them so long to get there on the bus.”

“Andi, it’s fine,” I said. It was really a beautiful day out—one of those April days of sunshine that makes you forget how miserable you’ve been all winter. “I’m working from home today, so it won’t be a problem. I’d like to get the car out of the garage on a day like today anyway.”

“You’re a dear, Dag.”

“What are you doing over at the U?”

“Marcie gave me a lead on a possible opening over here. I just happened to check in at the right time and I’m going to meet with the department chair in a few minutes.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Oh. Dag, you’ll have both Cali and Melissa. Mel needs to be dropped at the softball field, but that’s on the way to Theater in the City. Okay?”

“Sure. I won’t have to worry about making conversation with both of them in the car.”

“Do what I do. Keep quiet and listen. You will be amazed at what you can learn. Pick them up at three.”

“Will do. Good luck with the interview.”

***

I was waiting out front at 3:00 when Cali and her best friend Melissa came down the steps. Cali hesitated a moment looking for her mom’s van, then squealed when she saw my yellow Mustang with the top down. She and Melissa came running toward the car with Cali yelling “Shotgun!” as she tagged the door first. Melissa piled into the back seat and sat sideways since there was so little leg-room, even for a high school girl. It would have been fairer for Cali to sit in back since she was so much smaller, but I wasn’t going to interfere.

It was five-plus years ago that I moved into the apartment on Roy. Even before I’d painted the room, I remember standing at the window with my suitcases and box of books, one chair and a mattress, watching two 12-year-old girls playing an elaborate game in the postage-stamp yard of the duplex next door. The game somehow involved a tennis ball, a Frisbee, two croquet wickets, and capes. Then I saw the door open and a perfectly lovely young woman came out with lemonade for the girls. From the angle high up where I was watching, it took me a minute to realize that I was looking at my good friend Andi Marx from the Faculty Lounge. I’d had no idea I was moving next door to her.

It wasn’t long before the carefree childhood games were put aside by the girls as they started playing real sports, acting in plays, and—let’s not forget—being interested in boys. Now they were juniors in high school and I understood that Cali was playing Lady Macbeth, opening in two weeks and Melissa was pitching for a city league softball team. Still the two girls were almost inseparable and I listened to their non-stop banter as I pulled away from the curb.

“Oh, he’ll never go out with you,” Mel said. “He’s totally gaga over Barbara. He can’t even see another bitch.”

“Nobody loves me,” Cali moaned dramatically.

“I fuckin’ love you baby!”

“Yeah, but you’re a slut so you don’t count!” The girls howled and I kept my own counsel about not acting like an adult and chastising the language. I didn’t see Melissa often, but I’d noticed that her language had been getting riper each year. Cali listened and laughed, but I seldom heard her swear.

“I’m not a slut. I’m lubricious,” Mel said haughtily. They laughed some more.

“Thank you for driving us in the Mustang, Dag! This is so cool.” Cali said as she reached to turn on my radio.

“No problem,” I answered. “It’s just the price of dating your mom.”

“Oh? You’re dating now?” I regretted that statement instantly.

“No, no. You know what I mean. We all go out with our friends. We’re friends. We’re not involved.”

“Yeah, right!” Mel scoffed. “You’re dating.”

“He can’t be dating mom,” Cali answered. “He’s gay.”

“I’m what?” Cali’s eyes got big and she covered her mouth with her hands.

“I’m sorry, Dag. Aren’t you out?” she whispered.

“What makes you think I’m gay?” This was a real revelation to me. I couldn’t imagine why she’d think that.

“Well, you live on Capitol Hill—with Eric and Jared.”

“Since when can only gays live on Capitol Hill? And I don’t live with Eric or Jared. They’re neighbors.”

“Yeah but, you’re like my mom’s best friend in the world. Straight men can’t be best friends with women.” She really thought that because Andi and I had never been more than friends that I was gay. Still, there was a bit of humor to be had here.

“Well,” I said, sounding almost like I was going to confess. “Did you ever think that maybe she’s gay? I might just be her beard.” We pulled up in the parking lot at the softball field and I noticed that both girls were staring at each other with their mouths open. I smirked a little. “This is your stop, Mel.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. Uh… and uh… sorry about the language thing. I get carried away.”

“I didn’t notice.”

“You’re cool,” she said and jumped out over the top of the door with her duffle in tow. “See you tomorrow, Sweety!” she said kissing Cali on the cheek. Then she was off. Cali finally managed to get the radio turned on. Electronica came blasting over the speakers.

“Dubstep? You listen to dubstep?”

“I listen to all kinds of music,” I said. “Is that what you call this?” I’m a lousy dancer, but if I’m driving around in the Mustang, sometimes that heavy electronic dance beat is just what I need. She fiddled with the dial until she found the local jazz station.

“There. Real detectives listen to jazz. It’s in all the books.” I chuckled, but let it slide. She was quiet for a few minutes.

I thought back to those early days in the apartment. I could understand why Cali would be confused. I was good friends with Eric and Jared. They’d both, in their way, helped me through those first months after Hope left. “She really did a number on you,” I remember Eric saying. He was a little tipsy from all the wine we’d been drinking and he’d brought a new CD up to play on my new stereo.

“So, Eric, why are you here on a Saturday night? Are you between boyfriends?”

“Oh honey, don’t I wish. I don’t even have one right now.” I did a double take. “I don’t suppose you’re just a little bit gay curious are you?” he smiled.

“No,” I answered truthfully. “I can’t say it’s ever even crossed my mind.” He shrugged it off and had never mentioned it again. He was just a good, if sometimes flaky, friend.

“It’s okay, you know,” Cali said just above the sound of the wind. I was pulled out of my reverie, trying to think what she was talking about.

“What’s okay? If I’m gay?”

“Yeah, sure, but… I mean… It’s okay if you date my mom, I guess.”

“Cali, your mom is really, really my best friend,” I said smiling at her. “But we decided a long time ago that was all we were going to be, so we can really be best friends.”

“Okay. But still…” she said. It was quiet the rest of the way to the theater. I dropped her off and drove back to the apartment.

Yeah. But still…