Chapter 3 - THE THERAPIST WHO USED ONE WORD
Her name was Dr. Maya Collins.
I expected her to ask about Christmas.
Instead, she asked about childhood.
“What happened when your mother became angry?”
I laughed.
“She didn’t really get angry.”
Maya waited.
I heard how stupid that sounded.
“She went quiet.”
“What did quiet mean?”
“That someone had disappointed her.”
“What happened then?”
“She stopped talking.”
“For how long?”
“Sometimes hours.”
“Sometimes days.”
“And what did you do?”
“Fixed it.”
“How?”
“Apologized.”
“For what?”
I thought.
“I don’t know.”
Maya wrote something down.
Then asked.
“What happened if Vanessa was upset?”
“I was expected to calm her down.”
“Mark?”
“Same.”
“Your mother?”
“Always.”
“And who calmed you down?”
I had no answer.
Maya leaned back.
“You were assigned the role of regulator.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“You managed everyone else’s emotions.”
“That’s just being responsible.”
“No.”
“That’s being trained to believe stability depends on your compliance.”
I stared at her.
The word trained bothered me.
So did how accurate it felt.
She asked.
“When your mother slapped Emily, what did you feel first?”
“Anger.”
“Second?”
“Fear.”
“For Emily?”
“No.”
I looked down.
“That everything would explode.”
“And what did you do?”
“I left.”
“How did that feel?”
“Wrong.”
“Why?”
“Because Mom was crying.”
Maya nodded slowly.
“That is conditioning.”
The same word I had used at the motel.
Suddenly it did not sound dramatic.
It sounded clinical.
Real.
At home, Emily asked how therapy went.
“Uncomfortable.”
“That good?”
“Apparently.”
She smiled.
Then I told her.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For all the times I made you absorb things so I wouldn’t have to confront them.”
Her eyes filled.
“Daniel.”
“No.”
“Let me say it.”
She waited.
“When Vanessa mocked your job.”
“I changed the subject.”
“When Mom criticized your clothes.”
“I told you she was old-fashioned.”
“When she insulted your childhood.”
“I said she didn’t mean it.”
Emily’s face tightened.
“I kept translating cruelty into something easier for me to tolerate.”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
“That made you carry it alone.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
Emily took my hand.
“I believe you.”
Then she said something harder.
“But I need change more than apology.”
May you like
I nodded.
“So do I.”
