“I can’t say I’ve changed my mind there.” Talia frowned. “Y’know, ‘Those who can’t do, teach.’”
“I know you seem to put a lot of store by that adage. But you just said you were considering teaching Pilates. What am I missing here?”
“‘Those who can’t do, teach’ applies to those who are teaching in the professions they trained to do, or used to do—not to people who teach something else entirely,” Talia said emphatically. “I know you want to get me to move out of my ‘comfort zone’ so I can be open to change and all that…” She twirled a lock of hair around her index finger. “I’m just not ready to be pushed too far, okay?”
AMY
“I’m too exhausted to vent today,” she said, sinking onto the sofa. She stretched her body along its length and flopped an arm over her eyes. “I think I’d get better use out of our time if I just slept for fifty minutes.”
Amy did look pretty haggard. And unusually unkempt, as if she had just thrown on whatever clothes were closest to hand and hadn’t even bothered to run a comb through her hair. I got up and switched off the lights. “Tell you what, Amy: I’ll let you lie there in the dark, but I think it would be a good idea for you to share what’s been going on lately. You’ve cancelled the last couple of sessions, and I’ve got to say, you don’t even look like yourself today.”
Amy groaned. “Everyone knows the expression ‘Be careful what you wish for,’ right? Remember Mala Sonia’s so-called psychic reading?”
“Which one?” I grumbled.
“Oh, right.” Amy sat up. “My God, Susan, I am so sorry. I heard about the reading she gave you. And what happened. Is it possible that she’s really got a psychic gift? I mean, everything she said to me came true too.”
“Maybe she just got lucky.” I didn’t add that in my case I thought Mala Sonia had manipulated the cards.
“You were in the room with me when she did the reading; you’re my witness.”
“Why do you say that Mala Sonia’s prediction turned out to be true?”
Amy sighed deeply and lay back down on the couch. “Months ago, I had it out with Eric about pulling his weight in the parenting department. He said I was probably suffering from postpartum syndrome. I called him a Neanderthal and threatened to strangle him. After Mala Sonia’s reading, I raised the subject again. ‘You’re a partner now,’ I reminded him. ‘You’re one of the people at Newter & Spade who gets to set the rules.’ And I more or less gave him an ultimatum: if his idea of parental responsibility was just paying the bills, I told him he could do it from his own apartment and I’d be happy to collect his alimony and child support payments. So he finally found a way to rearrange his schedule—his calendar was pretty light in December, anyway—in order to spend time at home taking care of Isaac. And when Isaac went down for his nap, Eric would be able to do his work at home so he wouldn’t get too far behind schedule. It sounded great in theory. In practice, it was a whole other story. I’ve begun to wonder whether men really do lack nurturing skills, or whether Eric is trying to do a lousy job so I can throw up my hands and say ‘Yeah, you were right. I’m much better at this than you are. Go back to the office.’ I had been hoping that with Eric at home I could work out an arrangement with Newter & Spade and go back to work, at least part-time. I’ve missed my career so much. So Eric’s been home for a few weeks, and the house is in complete turmoil. Isaac screams like a lunatic whenever his father tries to lift him out of his crib and only gets calm when I hold him. You can’t blame the baby, I suppose; he hardly ever sees his father, so he didn’t trust the funny-smelling stranger who wanted to touch him. I thought the more Eric got to know his son, the more Isaac would respond to him. But so far it hasn’t worked out that way. Of course, Eric seems so uncertain when he holds him that Isaac probably thinks he’s going to get dropped on his head. So I said to Eric that maybe it would be a good idea if he took care of other things, like the grocery shopping and the cooking, while I took care of the baby, and at least I still wouldn’t be doing everything.”
“And how is that working out for you?” I asked her.
“Oy vayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!”
“That doesn’t sound like a ringing endorsement.”
“He’s inept! He practically burns boiled water! You think I’m kidding, but I asked him to make me a cup of tea, and he left the kettle on the burner for so long that all the water evaporated out the spout and it ended up charring the bottom of the kettle. He just forgot that he’d put the water up. A simple grocery list is beyond him—this is a man with an advanced degree from one of the top schools in the country. I can’t take it any more. And Newter & Spade keeps giving me the runaround, so I feel like I’m wasting even more time and space not being able to bring in any income. Being a partner, Eric’s annual take is calculated on a percentage basis, and since he hasn’t been there over the past few weeks, he says there’s been a call to change the equation so that he gets less of a share than the other partners who are in the office full-time. It’s a nightmare!”
“What do you think you’ve learned from this?”
“Honestly? That you can never rely on anyone but yourself. In the long run, if you want something done right, and done to your satisfaction, you can’t delegate. Everything Eric has done, as far as the baby and the domestic chores are concerned, I’ve had to either undo or redo. And don’t let anyone ever try to convince you that men are tougher than women. At the first sign of crisis, they run! The first day Eric was home, Isaac spit up on him and Eric just lost it! My husband started to blame the baby, complained that his clothes were ruined—who told him to burp the baby in a Zegna shirt?—and he just stood there looking helpless. When Isaac got fussy in his bath, Eric just yelled for me to come into the room and take over. He utterly gave up. Susan, this is a man who makes a living representing corporate polluters, and he can’t even wipe up his son’s vomit.”
“Well, with both you and Eric at home during the day, is there a way that you can reassign Meriel’s duties so that she can help Eric handle his new baby-related responsibilities while you remain relieved of at least some of the burden of feeling like you’re still doing everything?”
“That’s a whole ’nother issue,” Amy fretted. “Meriel is underfoot all the time, or so it seems. I mean we have a fairly good-sized apartment, but with Eric home now, everything seems so disrupted. Everywhere one of us turns, there’s Meriel. And it’s becoming a too-many-cooks situation. It doesn’t make sense to keep her on; on the other hand, I can’t stand housework and have no time for it. If Eric were competent at it, we could let Meriel go—or at least furlough her for a while. But he’s not, and he doesn’t seem to want to be, and I think that if I give Meriel her walking papers, things will end up going from bad to worse. Besides, I hear so many horror stories from my friends about their housekeepers or au pairs, that I’m afraid to fire her. And if Eric returns to Newter & Spade full-time, we’ll be back to needing someone almost every day anyway. God knows she’s not the most reliable person in the world, but at the risk of sounding like a cliché, it’s so hard to get good help nowadays.”
MERIEL
“I don’t know how much longer I’ll be coming down here.” There was resignation in Meriel’s voice. “I read de writing on de wall. You know upstairs wit’ Mrs. Amy and Mr. Eric, I am caught between de rock and de hard place. It seem layk she is standing over me wit’ everyting I do for dem, and I cahn’t work daht way. De other day I am dusting all her knickknacks and I feel her standing behind me. I get so tense I drop what I am dusting on de carpet. Good ting it was no’ting breakable. But I bend down to pick it up and I am trembling all over. I need to have de job—de books I record on tape is only volunteer work—but dis is not a good way for me to live.”
Meriel buried her face in her hands. Rather than ask her a question or offer a suggestion, I patiently waited for her to resume speaking.
“You know…maybe I should quit de job. I have a feeling daht Mrs. Amy want to get rid
of me, so maybe de leaving should be my idea instead. On de other hand, you know I need de job. Dey always say don’t trow away de old couch until you have bought de new one.”
I was wondering if there was an adage or cliché that had been left unexpressed by my clients during the past week. “It’s understandable that you’d feel more confident if you were the one choosing to leave your job, rather than waiting to get let go…assuming you think a dismissal really is forthcoming.”
“I told you, I see de writing on the wall. She and Mr. Eric are not happy wit’ de current situation. And Mr. Eric is not ahkting layk de man in de family. So Mrs. Amy have to be de big decision-maker for bot’ of dem. You know who I feel sorry for? Daht baby. She fuss over him all de time but say such bad tings about being a mother because she tink he too little to understand because he don’t talk yet. I don’t know about you, Mrs. Susan, but I tink babies understand a lot more than people tink dey do. I’m glad you are back doing de terapy, because Isaac going to need you in a few years!”
ME
“Guess who I just saw down by the mailboxes?” Molly practically galloped into the apartment. “Naomi and Claude! They just got the letter from the adoption agency in Georgia that the paperwork went through. They’re going to get their Chinese daughter!”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Alice was in the lobby too, and when she heard the news she said she felt like a fairy godmother, because she’d notarized their papers. She said she was glad that all the years she’d worked as a legal assistant didn’t end up a total waste of her life after all.”
We high-fived just as the phone rang. It was Claude and Naomi. “I know…Molly just told me…” I laughed at Claude’s response. “Sorry, she ‘spoiled it’ by getting to me before you did…I’m thrilled…honestly, I couldn’t be happier for you…congratulations!”
“They’re leaving for China in a couple of weeks,” I said to Molly after I hung up the phone. “First they visit their baby’s province…I think she’s from Sichuan; then they head to the city of Guan Cho, which is where all the expecting parents stay while they’re waiting for their respective daughters to be delivered to them. So they’ll be gone for two to three weeks. Naomi found a viable way to accompany Claude too. She’s going to tell anyone who asks that she’s going to be the baby’s nanny.”
“They are going to be such wonderful moms, don’t you think?” I nodded. “People can be so blind about it,” Molly added.
“Think of all the straight women who totally fuck up in the motherhood department.” She opened the refrigerator and stood in front of it for several moments trying to figure out what she wanted to snack on.
“Why don’t you have some of Faith’s Scotch broth?”
“Nuh-uh. Too heavy. Besides, I’m not that hungry.”
“Fine; but how many times have I told you not to leave the refrigerator door open. Now that you know what’s in there, you can decide what to eat with the door closed.”
Molly ignored my suggestion. “You aren’t, though, Mom. A fuck-up. Dad’s an asshole, but you’re a really good parent.” Molly finally opted for an orange and we sat down together at the dinette table.
“Use a napkin, Molly. Thanks. For getting the napkin and for the compliment. You know, I don’t want you and Ian to choose sides; your father over me. We’re both still your parents.”
“Too late for that,” Molly said, dumping the orange peel into the paper napkin. “It’s not like we chose to choose between you and Dad. It’s obvious. He followed his dick and walked out on us—”
“Molly, he’s still your father! Don’t talk about him like that. Show a little respect, at least.”
“Why? Did he show you any respect? Did he show Ian and me any respect? You’re always asking me if I learned anything about ethics at the Ethical Culture schools…well, yeah, I did, okay? For one thing, you have to earn respect; you don’t get it automatically. Even if you’re a relative. And Dad’s ethics are for shit, by the way. I bet that if I were one of your clients you’d tell me that my anger is valid and I have a right to vent it, and not go ‘Whoa-oh, he’s still your father,’” Molly added mockingly. “I’m mad at him for pissing on you. So, yeah, I can’t help but choose sides, because Dad acted like a total baby, doing what he felt was good for him, regardless of how it affected other people. He, like, ran away with the woman who was his comic book heroine. Is there anything more sophomoric than that?! I mean, he should get a grip! And I’m mad at him for pissing on me and my brother too. You can’t tell me I’m not allowed to be mad for my own sake, even if you’re being shrinky. And another thing: if he decides to come crawling back with his dick between his legs—”
“Molly! What did I just say?!”
“Mo-om,” my daughter intoned, with the same inflection reserved for duh-uh, “okay, forget the second part of what I said. But if Dad decides to come crawling back—blah blah blah—then I think we should put it to a family vote. He should have to make his case to all three of us. And right now, my projected polls say…ehnh! Dad loses! Because he gets a no vote from me, and he hasn’t exactly been a real hands-on dad to Ian—I mean they never did father-son stuff like shooting hoops or going to baseball games—so Ian probably will just side with me. You’ve always had a career and you’ve always taken good care of me and Ian, even if we—well, okay, me—have been a handful sometimes.”
Chewing thoughtfully, Molly offered me a slice of orange. “Ermh,” she munched, “it’s too bad I mailed in my college applications already, because I just thought of something I could have added.”
“Which is?” I was merely grateful and astonished that she had completed them and mailed them in on time.
“Well, I just wondered whether it would have given me a bit of an extra edge if I’d told them I come from a broken home.”
The following Saturday afternoon I asked Molly if she was planning to accompany me to the baby shower.
“Claude and Naomi didn’t get their kid already, did they?”
“No. They haven’t even left for China yet. Izzy’s baby shower. Alice’s friend.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. I didn’t get her anything,” Molly replied dubiously. “Was I supposed to?”
“You can share my gift. I had The Body Shop make up a whole basket of great-smelling stuff she can pamper herself with. Alice has been knitting up a storm for months now. She’s made baby sweaters, a blanket, booties, a cap…she’s brought her knitting to our therapy sessions so she doesn’t lose any time. She’s worried she won’t get all the projects finished in time.”
“When’s Izzy due?”
“Two weeks; February fourteenth.”
“Yikes, that’s soon. A Valentine’s baby. Does she know what it is yet?”
I nodded. “When she had the amnio, she asked. She told me she wasn’t good at secrets.”
“And…?”
“Girl. And I think she plans to name her Valentina.”
“That rocks! Awesome!”
“Yeah,” I said reaching out to clasp her hand, “girls can be pretty awesome.”
Progress Notes
Talia Shaw: I am pleased, first of all, that Talia has resumed her therapy; and secondly, that she has become much less resistant to the idea of change. It’s a much healthier mental outlook that can only serve her well as her body continues to heal. It’s important for her to begin looking at the long-range forecast and having some options in the event that her knee injury inhibits her from performing at her prior high level. Her eye on the future has also boosted her self-esteem; the client is no longer complaining that her “life is over.” I remain concerned, however, about the real possibility that Talia continues to suffer from an eating disorder. She vehemently denies this, and offered me an explanation, but I want to monitor the situation more closely in subsequent sessions. If there really is a problem, I intend to encourage her to obtain special counseling.
Amy Baum: Amy is to be commended for taking control of her dominant issue
, rather than letting it continue to control her. After months of venting her frustration with her domestic situation, she took the risk of confronting her husband and demanding his co-parental participation. Unfortunately, things appear to have backfired on her in a big way. But rather than allow her to accept it as the manifestations of an accurate “psychic prediction,” thereby absolving herself of personal responsibilities, we need to focus on active problem-solving. Client, though a high-functioning individual in her career, has a very high-strung personality and immediately panics when things are not running smoothly in her home life. Her first response is to give up on the situations that are creating the most profound frustration and to want to run toward the place where she feels safest: the office, in her case. It’s a common behavioral pattern; our instincts invariably tell us to flee a difficult and anxiety-provoking milieu and seek our favorite shelter, which is often the place where we feel the most respected and appreciated. Nevertheless, in our subsequent sessions I will have to encourage the client to work methodically and patiently in order to restore her mental and emotional equilibrium, which will then translate into her ability to resolve her domestic crisis.
Meriel Delacour: The client’s pragmatism is serving her well. Meriel is fully aware that her job as a domestic is in jeopardy, and is not in denial regarding the possible outcome of her employment situation. I want to work with Meriel in future sessions to come up with, and then further develop, a game plan for her future. She has already taken a big step toward taking control of it by thinking of resigning her job, instead of leaving all the power in the hands of her employer. However, using Meriel’s analogy about the old couch/new couch, we need to focus on how she will continue to support herself financially if she moves on, and I do not tend to encourage my clients to take a big jump without a safety net beneath them. They may look very free in flight, but the results—mentally, emotionally, and financially—can be catastrophic.
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