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If given the opportunity, there wasn't much that Mrs. Gabrielle Tam would change about her life. She'd had a good childhood, experienced a stunning debutante season, enjoyed a fun college experience, and then had found an excellent marriage. She'd worked a few years in political analysis before she retired from the workforce once her first pregnancy started showing, and then had embarked on a very fulfilling routine of charity events and community socials while raising her children.
Unfortunately, Gabrielle had been burdened with something every woman she knew dreaded: an unsociable daughter.
Simmone had not always been unsociable. Once upon a time, she'd been the easiest baby in the 'Verse, sleeping through the night by the time she was three months as though she'd simply been waiting for Gabrielle to leave her alone. She hardly ever cried, she ate everything given to her without much mess, and she was quiet and placid when Gabrielle and Regan brought her to events. Above all else, she was adorable. She looked at cooing aunties and strangers alike with her innocent gray eyes, all but preening in her pram, if a baby could even preen.
She was easy during nursery school too. She never threw fits over the outfits Gabrielle picked and sat quietly while Gabrielle combed her hair and pulled it through organza scrunchies or did it up with grosgrain ribbons. She'd also turned out to be incredibly observant to an almost clinical degree. She would come home and as soon as she was out of the car, she would be telling Gabrielle the miniscule details of everyone's lunch or mid-afternoon tantrum or who'd been picked up early by a parent and who had asked the teacher what the words divorce or alimony payment meant. It was like having an advance copy of the gossip on family emergencies of other parents at the school.
Even as a child she'd been helpful; stepping in to walk her baby brother to the park or remind Gabrielle and the nannies about his classes or mealtimes or outfits. She was punctual and polite; never rude about her reminders. She cared about her brother's wellbeing and development. She excelled at school and never complained that extra tutoring sessions or music lessons were cutting into her social time. She got perfect grades and embraced the fast track to and through MedAcad that her parents set up with tutors.
Now as an adult she stood by the walls of social events, her huge eyes flickering over the other guests in a way that some gossip called creepy. She worked odd hours, begging off half the parties Gabrielle expected her at by claiming that she was needed at the hospital. She complained that River wasn't at evenings that were clearly reserved for adults only. She was off-putting or she was intense or she was pretty but really weird if any of the men Gabrielle set her up with were to be believed.
The worst part was that Simmone never seemed disappointed when they never asked for a second date. She rarely even complained about it when Gabrielle asked her during family dinners. He didn't follow up, she'd say with the barest hint of a shrug. And when Gabrielle would ask who would escort Simmone to the next black tie ball or horse derby or tasting dinner on such short notice, her daughter would just turn to her preteen brother. You want to get dressed up and play prince charming for a night?
He always agreed, and Gabrielle found it hard to complain about the fact that she had two children with such a large age gap who got along so well or that her son was perfectly polite at grown up events. She would have to beat the girls off with a stick once he was older.
It was easier to arrange dates for Simmone once River went away for school; her weekends and evenings were suddenly free, and she met with everyone Gabrielle found for her, though they had the same awful success rate. The only thing that brought Gabrielle any comfort was the fact that some of the other women she socialized with were having the same issues with their own children. She listened to an acquaintance by the name of Julianna's woes about her own son's dating struggles one Sunday morning while they were having brunch at the Vanbergs' house.
"He keeps turning them all down. There's always some issue that prevents a second date. Lately, he's been insisting he wants someone intelligent though I don't really think he even knows what he means by that. All the women I've set him up with are college educated."
"Oh, well…Gabrielle, isn't your daughter something of a phenom?" Said Katherine, a woman Gabrielle was much closer with.
"Is that right?" Julianna's face lit up and Gabrielle smiled bashfully.
"I mean, I don't mean to brag too much, but she did graduate in the top three percent of her class at Osiris MedAcad."
"Oh my! She's a doctor?"
"Surgeon," Gabrielle confirmed.
"And I assume she's single, if Katherine brought her up."
"Oh!" Katherine looked startled. "I mean, the last time we spoke, she wasn't attached, so I assumed—"
"No, don't worry. She's still looking for a husband," Gabrielle reassured her friend. "And honestly, it would be about time."
"You're itching for that grandchild, are you?"
"I just want to see her happy, you know?"
"Of course," Julianna agreed. "Well, why don't we see when my son and your daughter are both free and send them to a lunch together?"
"That would be lovely," Gabrielle said. "She's been struggling a little ever since her brother went away to boarding school. I think it's weighing on her to not have someone to take care of."
"That maternal instinct is kicking in already, then?" Katherine asked with interest. "I know she was always so doting with River."
Raymond and Simmone were both busy young people when it came to their careers, so the lunch date would have to be further in the future than either Gabrielle or Julianna would have liked, but they still managed to find an open Saturday, and Gabrielle was excited to share the news with her daughter when they had family dinner that Wednesday.
"I spoke with Julianna at the Vanbergs' party on Sunday and she mentioned that her son Raymond is looking to date—"
"I'm busy," Simmone said.
"Simmone! I haven't even mentioned when and where Julianna and I picked for a lunch date."
"I'm busy in general," Simmone said. "I have a lot on my plate."
"That can't possibly be true for two Saturdays from now. I checked your shared calendar. You're off work. Won't you give Raymond a chance?"
"I have something planned already."
"What on earth could you possibly have planned? There are no events scheduled that day," Regan cut in with a laugh. "Don't be scared of something your mother thinks would be good for you."
"What's on your mind right now?" Gabrielle wondered. "Is there someone else you'd rather I arrange something with?"
"I'm worried about River," Simmone confessed.
"Your brother is fine, Simmone."
"He isn't," Simmone said quickly, reaching under the dinner table for her bag. "I…here, I brought copies of the letters he's sent me." She put a leather documents folder on the table and handed Gabrielle one of the papers. "Look at the letters."
"Well, I'm looking at letters…?"
"Are you reading them? The phrasing doesn't sound anything like him. He's misspelled some words, written things with very odd kerning…he's trying to tell us something. I think there's a code."
"A code?"
"I think something's wrong at his school," Simmone said evenly. "And that he's trying to tell us something that someone doesn't want him to say. He could be in danger."
"Danger? Don't you think the school administration would have contacted his parents if that were the case?" Regan asked, laughing.
"I mean something's wrong with the school."
"What on earth could you possibly mean by that?"
"Why don't we contact them, then?" Simmone suggested. "Arrange a visit to put his sister's mind at ease."
"You've always been very protective of him, but don't you think this is going a bit far? It's good for River to have the opportunity to grow up without you stifling him," Regan said.
"Maybe the reason men don't want to date you is because they know that at some level, they'd have to compete with your brother for the rest of their lives," Gabrielle added, rubbing circles on her temples. She'd thought that having River out of the picture would have meant Simmone would become more socially outgoing to fill the time that chaperoning River had once taken up. Apparently she'd been dead wrong.
"My dìdì is in peril and you're making this about my dating life?" Simmone asked. Her eyes were wild in a very unnerving way. Gabrielle wished she would stop doing that. It made her look so unapproachable.
"Quite frankly, you're overreacting," Gabrielle said.
"Overreact—"
"Jumping to conclusions based on a spelling error in a letter from your brother? He's writing about the new friends he's making and how his classes are finally giving him a challenge and all you can think is that he's in some sort of danger? Do you understand how you sound right now?" Gabrielle asked. "Are you listening to yourself?"
"Simmone, this is paranoid," Regan cut in. "If someone outside of the family heard you talking like this…it could affect your entire future."
"Who cares about my future?" Simmone said immediately.
"It's not just about your job," Regan said sternly. "That isn't the issue. There are always safety nets for you when it comes to money, of course. What I'm talking about and what I think your mother is concerned about is…general perception. While I think she might be being too harsh on you—" he glanced at Gabrielle for a moment with a reprimanding look in his eye— "It is worth mentioning that you already have a bit of a reputation for being difficult to speak with at parties and hard to get acquainted with when it comes to men who are interested in dating you."
"I…"
"Sweetheart, you know that you don't have to work if you don't want to," Regan said, brow furrowed in concern. "If those long hours are putting too much stress on you, I'll take care of things."
"What? No! I'm not quitting my job," Simmone said. "My work is not the issue."
"Well, then what is? Because it's hard to see some other reason why you feel like you're under so much pressure."
Simmone stared at her father, her jaw slack.
"Why don't you take the opportunity to relax a little and meet someone new?" Gabrielle cut in once the silence had stretched on for longer than she wanted. "Two Saturdays from now, the 17th. Noon reservation at Skyward. I know you love the salads there."
Simmon closed her documents case and slid it back into her bag.
"I'll be there," she promised. "What should I wear?"
Relief flooded through Gabrielle and as they finished dinner, she went through Simmone's wardrobe in her head and made suggestions on dresses and Simmone nodded and hugged her parents when she was leaving. Gabrielle stood in the foyer and took a few deep breaths once she was gone.
"Gabi?"
"Hm?"
"You look so rattled," Regan said, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"Aren't you? I never thought I'd be hearing my daughter speak like that."
"Ah, yes. It's certainly worrying, but I don't think it's that serious," Regan said. "You remember how the admissions officer said that it can put strain on a family when a young child is no longer in the house. Simmone will get over it; we just need to make sure she doesn't have the chance to overthink so much alone in her apartment. Getting her out on that date will be good for her."
Two weeks later, Gabrielle could hardly wait to hear about how the date had gone when Simmone came to dinner. She greeted her daughter at the door with a grin.
"Well? What did you think of Raymond?" Gabrielle asked.
"He's…very polite," Simmone said as she hung up her coat.
"Anything else?"
"What else is there?"
"Well, what about his work? Or his hobbies?"
"Oh, he works for a hedge fund and told me about how a hedge fund works like I don't exclusively end up on dates with men who work at hedge funds and then he talked about golfing with his father even though it sounded like he really would rather be playing video games with his friends. Same old, same old."
"Simmone! You should be interested in his work."
"It's just a hedge fund."
"I'm sure he was interested in your work—"
"No one is interested in my work and I really don't blame them. It's not like stories about removing shards of glass from a six year old's arms is good dinner date story fodder. I don't do what I do for a good story to tell on a date."
"Then I guess it's good you know when to keep things to yourself. But! Most importantly, did he ask you for a second date?" Gabrielle wondered.
"He did. We're going to The Imperial Lantern next Friday for dinner."
"Well, that will be good, right?"
"I wish I could date someone with a real job," Simmone confessed suddenly. Gabrielle looked at her, bewildered.
"I've only ever set you up for dates with men who had excellent jobs."
"Not really."
"How so?"
"It's always like…project manager. Executive director of information processes. Chief data supervisor. Vice president of development. Speculation analyst. These are not real jobs," Simmone insisted.
"Sweetheart, those are very real positions."
"They don't sound like it."
"Well, what sounds like a real job, then?"
"Terraforming engineer. Spaceship mechanic. Clothing designer. University professor. Companion. Waste collector. Ship captain. Software developer for Cortex units. Something tangible. Sometimes it feels like nothing is real."
"Just because you can't understand someone's job doesn't mean it isn't important," Gabrielle told her gently. "Maybe you can ask him to explain it again during your second date."
"You're right," Simmone said after a moment. "I'm sorry. It's just…I think I get scared when I meet someone who's so well-suited to me," she explained quickly. "Did you ever feel like that with dad? Like it feels overwhelming to meet someone that you think might be the one?"
"That's natural," Gabrielle assured her. "I'm sure you'll feel more at ease during the second date, and soon enough it won't be scary at all."
Simmone didn't have much to say about the second date either, but Gabrielle knew her daughter was a woman of few words when it came to her personal life. That was good; it always paid to be discreet. All that mattered was that Raymond had asked her for a third date, which was further than Simmone usually got. Gabrielle was so distracted by the prospect that her daughter might finally soon have an official boyfriend that she took the call at dinner with the Friedlichs without any inkling it was bad news.
Simmone was completely incomprehensible when Gabrielle arrived at the police station to bail her out, talking about government coverups and medical experimentation and how she alone cared for her brother's safety. Gabrielle refused to listen to any of it, instead furiously guiding her daughter to the car and turning up some awful late night radio show so she couldn't hear whatever Simmone was going on about. Simmone quickly got the message and went quiet, opting to stare out the window instead.
"I don't think you should come for dinner on Wednesday," Gabrielle said as she dropped Simmone off at her apartment. "I think you need some time to consider your actions and reflect on where you're going to go from here. I'll speak with Johan about your record. There are steps we can take, but this is still very serious. Do you understand?"
"I understand how serious this is," Simmone said flatly, standing at the door of the building as the doorman tactfully looked down the road in the other direction.
"Okay. Good. Why don't you come over midday on Saturday, sweetheart. And we'll talk; a real mother to daughter talk."
"I'll be there," Simmone promised. Gabrielle drove home in silence and didn't know what to say when she got there. Thankfully, Regan had no questions. He knew when to let her handle things.
“Jail? Your daughter?” Katherine said when Gabrielle debriefed her friends at lunch the next day.
“Well, it comforts me to hear you be so surprised,” Gabrielle said.
“What was it, if you don’t mind me asking? Drugs? I hear there are all sorts of drugs making their way into parties at Empson's Social Club. Can you believe it? Empson's?”
“Oh, that's awful. But no, it wasn’t drugs," Gabrielle told her. "She’s gotten herself involved in…I guess you would call it political conspiracy theories? It started by her seeing codes and patterns in her brother's letters…oh, I wouldn't wish that on any parent. It was like she was suddenly a different person while she was explaining it.”
“I have heard that that happens more often than we think, especially to intelligent people who don’t entirely fit in," Julianna said placatingly. "It’s worse than drugs though, because it can drag the rest of the family down too.”
"I told her as such," Gabrielle said. "I made it very clear that I would not be going down alongside her in whatever spiral she's headed for."
"Good, that's good to make sure she understands the reality of what's happening. Too many young people have parents that let them get away with anything. That's a good call, Gabrielle," Katherine said.
"She lives alone?" Julianna wondered.
"She does. It isn't that isolated, though; she has access to a gym and a sauna and a pool, and there's a restaurant on the ground floor. And she has dinner at home with me and her father twice a week."
“Sounds like she needs a husband," Julianna said knowingly. "Raymond does seem to be very interested in her, and provided nothing like this happens again, I don't see why they shouldn't continue to see each other."
“Thank you. And yes, she needs a husband…or in patient treatment,” Gabrielle agreed.
"Are you actually considering that?" Katherine asked.
“If I can convince her father, that is," Gabrielle admitted. "I do think it might be what she needs. You know, she's always been a very driven girl, and I think she puts a lot of pressure on herself to succeed when it comes to her career. I never worked in medicine so I know that it's hard for me to understand what her work is like."
"She's younger than her peers, isn't she? When you mentioned she was a surgeon, I had assumed she was in her early thirties, but…"
"Simmone is twenty five," Gabrielle told them. "She was educated at home for high school and…I am glad we did that, because she's such a smart girl and I think she would have been under-stimulated at traditional school, but at the same time once she got into the workplace, it did set her apart."
"Worth it for the career, though, I assume," Julianna prompted.
"Oh, yes. She's published papers at a completely unprecedented rate for her age," Gabrielle said. "There are so many good possibilities in her future…she could have a few good years of a career post wedding, then can bow out from the hospital around the time that most women would take maternity leave and become more of a permanent presence socially…she's such a good planner, too. I can see her planning the charity bazaars and theater season opening galas and art gallery functions…"
"Maybe a break would be good for her," Katherine agreed. "Even if you have to make the decision for her."
Julianna pursed her lips and grimaced.
"Gabrielle, maybe your daughter just isn't suited to the hospital. It can be so scary there, with all sorts of people coming in, especially since she works in the emergency room. I don't know how you stand it, knowing that she's around any sort of person who might have been in…you know, some sort of situation where they were shot or stabbed during a fight who-knows-where…I can only imagine how much stress that might put on her. Is her apartment complex gated, or does it have good security?"
"Oh, the best," Gabrielle assured her. "Regan and I made sure of that."
"That's so good to hear, because you never know if a patient might…try to follow her home, maybe."
"They wouldn't!" Katherine said, pressing a hand to her mouth.
"They might! It's a very risky position for a young woman. Maybe having to stay so vigilant about that real danger has started to influence how she sees the rest of the 'Verse," Julianna suggested. Gabrielle sighed.
"It's a possibility."
"Poor thing. Well, it's good she has a mother who cares so much about her safety and wellbeing."
That's all Gabrielle had ever cared about; to see Simmone safe and happy, satisfied with her life and thriving. She'd been so supportive of her daughter's passion for medicine and had tried to nurture her obvious maternal nature by finding her someone fit to start a family with. She'd given Simmone everything a girl could want. Hopefully after a few days to mull things over, Simmone would remember that.
At eleven o'clock on Saturday, Simmone arrived at the Tam Estate and slipped into Gabrielle's office without saying hello. She sat on the other side of Gabrielle's desk as Gabrielle gave the chef notice that the kitchen ought to start on lunch.
"Have you spent some time meditating on what happened last week?" Gabrielle asked.
"I have."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Have you made new conclusions?"
"Just the same ones I had in the moment. That I'm the only person in this family who has ever truly cared about River."
"I know they talk you up quite a bit at the hospital, but it seems like you need an ego check and a reminder that I'm your mother, and that you are not River's guardian, because I'm his mother too."
"Oh? It feels more like I'm River's mother, because I stepped in when you wouldn't. It's great practice, mom. Haven't you always wanted grandchildren? I'll be so good at parenthood, because I've already rutting done it."
"How dare—Simmone, this is completely inappropriate and unacceptable. I know River better than anyone; every mother knows her son."
"Oh, you know him, do you?"
"What is this challenge? I know everything about my baby. He loves the beef wellington at The Mountainview and he enjoys going to concerts with me and he likes wearing smart sweaters with Bermuda shorts. I could go on," Gabrielle snapped.
Simmone didn't counter with River's favorite restaurants or books or colors. Instead, she just looked at the Newton's cradle on Gabrielle's desk for a long moment.
"Hm. Okay," Simmone said with all of the weight of diplomatically ending a conversation at a garden party.
"Simmone Henrietta. Look at me."
She did.
"You're spiraling," Gabrielle explained. "It's scary. It's scary for you and also for me and your father. I know you miss your brother. It's natural to miss him and be curious about how he's doing. But this is not the appropriate reaction. Do you understand?"
The office was quiet for a very long time. Simmone stared at a panel on the wall over Gabrielle's shoulder for most of it.
"I did everything right," Simmone said finally. She sounded confused and small. Gabrielle had only heard her sound like that once before; an eighth birthday party with no guests.
Why didn't they come?
"This is certainly not doing everything right, young lady—"
"I wore everything you ever picked out for me. I cut my hair the way you like even though I'm twenty five years old. I eat the way you want me to eat when we go out for dinner and count calories when I eat at home. I never have more than one drink at cocktail hours or galas unless I've been there for three hours. I went to the school you always dreamed I'd go to. I go on dates with every man you introduce me to. I joined the ladies' lunch planning committee for the horse race season because that's what you did when I was little. I have dinner with you and dad every Wednesday and Saturday. Every piece of décor in my apartment you picked out down to the paint color and all of my makeup was a gift from you and I wear it every day. I did all of it."
"Didn't you want to?"
"No! Of course I didn't," Simmone spat. "Who would want to do all of that? People with no spines and no capacity to think for themselves do that sort of thing! When I chose my own specialty in MedAcad I felt like I was drunk; I was so elated to be picking something for myself. I did everything right and in the end it didn't even rutting matter because nothing I did could have ever earned enough goodwill that I could leverage to make you care about your own son for half a gorram second."
"You've been spending too much time on your sourcebox," Gabrielle said tightly, completely at a loss for how to respond to anything else Simmone had said. "You're swearing like a Rim planet whore. It isn't becoming."
"Well, I always assumed that it was unbecoming of a mother to not care if her son lived or died, but apparently everything I've ever known is wrong. So what are we going to do about that?"
"This is not about River—"
"Yes it is!" Simmone was shouting at a level that Gabrielle had not ever heard come from her daughter's mouth. "It's entirely about River! Everything is about River! I would not have been in a situation to get arrested if I was certain of River's safety. Maybe if someone had contacted school administration about the timeline of holidays or even graduation and informed me about the reasoning behind the special schedule of a government academy, I would have been snug in bed at my apartment right now."
"Oh, so you think this is my fault," Gabrielle said. She'd said it before, when they'd had arguments about social event faux pas fallouts or failed second dates with eligible bachelors and Simmone had always fallen into line. She'd always gasped in shock, surprised that she'd let herself get so emotional as to even think to blame her mother and always reassured Gabrielle that no, of course not, mom; I have to put in a little more effort.
"It is your fault," Simmone said instead. "For not protecting him. Just because he was working on a doctorate degree doesn't mean he was grown. He's a kid. A child. He needed someone to stick up for him." Simmone stood from the couch and headed for the doorway of Gabrielle's office.
"I haven't dismissed you," Gabrielle reminded her, and Simmone whipped around.
"You're right. But it obviously doesn't mean anything if I'm a good little girl and wait to be sent away."
Simmone stood in the doorway for a long moment, looking at Gabrielle. She was wearing the dark overcoat that Gabrielle had bought for her as a Christmas present, one of her elegant (if a touch eccentric) brocade waistcoats, and her usual tasteful long full skirt (Gabrielle had never had to worry about her daughter being immodest in public). She looked the same as she always did and somehow she looked like a total stranger.
Simmone looked away from her mother to the porcelain vase that had always sat on a wooden stand next to the door. After a long moment, she glanced back at Gabrielle before knocking the vase off its stand, where it shattered on the floor. Gabrielle screamed, and Simmone was gone. The muffled slam of the front door came a few seconds later.
Gabrielle spent the next three weeks researching private mental health facilities that accepted involuntary committals. She didn't want to have to do it, but if it was necessary to get back the daughter she knew and loved, she would. There were beautiful campuses available, ones with enclosed gardens and soft colors and private rooms and nutritionally balanced meals prepared by trained chefs and money was of course no object.
She had narrowed the pick to four facilities and was still weighing pros and cons when Interpol officers showed up at the Tam estate.