Jonathan Kellerman - Private Eyes

She stopped, wrung her hands.

I said, “What happened?”

“I caught up with Dr. Ursula at the end of a session, just as she was getting into her car, and asked her how Mother was doing. She just smiled and told me everything was going well. Clearly letting me know it was none of my business. Then she asked me if anything was troubling me- but not as if she cared. Not the way you’d say it. I felt she was putting me down- analyzing me. It was creepy. I couldn’t wait to get away from her!”

She’d raised her voice, was nearly shouting. Realized it and blushed and covered her mouth.

I gave a reassuring smile.

“But then afterward,” she said, “I could understand it. I guess. The need for confidentiality. I started to think back and remembered how it had been with my therapy. I was always asking you all those questions- about other kids- just to see if you’d break the secret. Testing you. And then I felt very good, very comforted, when you didn’t give in.” She smiled. “That was terrible, wasn’t it? Testing you like that.”

“A hundred percent normal,” I said.

She laughed. “Well, you passed the test, Dr. Delaware.” The blush deepened. She turned away. “You helped me a lot.”

“I’m glad, Melissa. Thanks for saying so.”

“Must be a pleasant job,” she said, “being a therapist. Getting to tell people they’re okay all the time. Not having to cause pain, like other doctors.”

“Sometimes it does get painful, but overall you’re right. It is a great job.”

“Then how come you don’t do it anymo- I’m sorry. That’s none of my business.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “No topic’s off limits here, as long as you can tolerate not always getting an answer.”

She laughed. “There you go, doing it again. Telling me I’m okay.”

“You are okay.”

She touched a finger to the paperweight, then retracted it. “Thank you. For everything you did for me. Not only did you get rid of my fears, you also showed me people can change- they can win. It’s hard to see that sometimes, when you’re stuck in the middle of something. I’ve thought of studying psychology myself. Maybe becoming a therapist.”

“You’d make a good one.”

“Do you really think so?” she said, facing me and brightening.

“Yes, I do. You’re smart. You care about people. And you’re patient- from what you’ve told me about getting your mother help, you have tremendous patience.”

“Well,” she said, “I love her. I don’t know if I’d be patient with someone else.”

“It would probably be easier, Melissa.”

“Yes, I guess that’s true. ’Cause to tell the truth, I didn’t feel patient while it was happening- all her resistance and stalling. There were times I even wanted to scream at her, tell her to just get up and change. But I couldn’t. She’s my mother. She’s always been wonderful to me.”

I said, “But now, after going to all the trouble of getting her into treatment, you have to watch her and Dr. Ursula stroll the grounds for months. With nothing happening. That really tries your patience.”

“It did! I was really starting to get skeptical. Then all of a sudden, things started to happen. Dr. Ursula got her outside the front gate. Just a few steps, down to the curb, and she had an attack when she got there. But it was the first time she’d been outside the walls since… the first time I’d ever seen her do it. And Dr. Ursula didn’t pull her back in because of the attack. She gave her some kind of medicine- in an inhaler, like they use for asthma- and made her stay out there until she’d calmed down. Then they did it again the next day, and again, and she kept having attacks- it was really hard to watch. But finally Mother was able to stand at the curb and be okay. After that, they started walking around the block. Arm in arm. Finally, a couple of months ago, Dr. Ursula got her to drive. In her favorite car- it’s this little Rolls-Royce Silver Dawn, a ’54, but in perfect condition. Coachbuilt- custom-made. My father had it built to his specifications when he was in England. One of the first to have power steering. And tinted windows. Then he gave it to her. She’s always loved it. Sometimes she sat in it after it had been washed, with the engine off. But she never drove it. She must have said something to Dr. Ursula about its being her favorite, because the next thing I knew, the two of them were tooling around in it. Down the drive and right out the gates. She’s at the point where she can drive with someone else in the car. She drives to the clinic with Dr. Ursula or someone else with her- it’s not far, over in Pasadena. Maybe that wouldn’t sound too impressive. But when you think of where she was a year ago, it’s pretty fantastic, don’t you think?”

“I do. How often does she go to the clinic?”

“Twice a week. Monday and Thursday, for group therapy. With other women who have the same problem.”

She sat back, dry-eyed, smiling. “I’m so proud of her, Dr. Delaware. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“By going to Harvard?”

“By doing anything that would mess it up. I mean, I think of Mother as being on a scale- one of those balance scales. Fear on one side, happiness on the other. Right now it’s tipping toward happiness, but I can’t help thinking that any little thing could knock it the other way.”

“You see your mom as pretty fragile.”

“She is fragile! Everything she’s been through has made her fragile.”

“Have you talked to Dr. Ursula about the impact of your going away?”

“No,” she said, suddenly grim. “No, I haven’t.”

“I get the feeling,” I said, “that even though Dr. Ursula has helped your mother a lot, she’s still not your favorite person.”

“That’s true. She’s a very- she’s cold.”

“Is there anything else about her that bothers you?”

“Just what I said. About her analyzing me… I don’t think she likes me.”

“Why’s that?”

She shook her head. One of her earrings caught the light and flashed. “It’s just the… vibrations she gives off. I know that sounds… imprecise- but she just makes me feel uncomfortable. The way she was able to tell me to butt out without having to say it. So how can I approach her about something personal? All she’d do is put me down- I feel she wants to shut me out.”

“Have you tried to talk to your mother about this?”

“I talked to her about therapy a couple of times. She said Dr. Ursula was taking her through steps and she was climbing them slowly. That she was grateful to me for getting her into treatment but that now she had to be a big girl and do things for herself. I didn’t argue, didn’t want to do anything that would… ruin it.”

Wringing. Flipping her hair.

I said, “Melissa, are you feeling a little left out? By the treatment?”

“No, it’s not that at all. Sure, I’d like to know more- especially because of my interest in psychology. But that’s not what’s important to me. If that’s what it takes to work- all that secrecy- then I’m happy. Even if this is as far as it goes, it’s still major progress.”

“Do you have doubts it will go further?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “On a day-to-day basis it seems to go so slowly.” She smiled. “You see, Dr. Delaware, I’m not patient at all.”

“So even though your mother’s come a long way, you’re not convinced she’s gone far enough for you to be able to leave her.”

“Exactly.”

“And you feel frustrated not knowing more about her prognosis because of the way Dr. Ursula treats you.”

“Very frustrated.”

“What about Dr. Leo Gabney? Would you be more comfortable talking to him?”