A vignette

AN I've struggled and struggled with this, was strangely compelled to write it after a particularly difficult session that left me wuth the feeling of being surrounded by fog or cotton wadding, unable to bat my way out of it.

The air in my office was heavy. The woman sat, legs white in her shorts, hair a dull gray blonde. She had agreed to start without her husband who waited outside. She was talking, indignant about her granddaughter.

“She wanted to spend the night with us. All was well until time for bed. She had her little mat but she wanted to sleep with us. I said no. She screamed and cried. She wanted to put her little mat on the floor beside our bed. I said no.”

“Why couldn’t she sleep with you?”

“Because she wiggles all night and would keep us awake.” She looked at me as if wondering why she had to state the obvious.

“Couldn’t she sleep on the floor beside your bed?”

“Oh no. No. She’s just spoiled. I had to call her dad to come and get her. Then my daughter called me. She wanted to know why Allison was home. I told her. You know what she said to me? ‘She’s only six, mom,’ she said. ‘She hasn’t seen you all summer.’ That’s what my daughter said to me.” Lips pursed, knees together, righteous. I'm wrenched by her twisted logic.

“Can my husband come in now?”

Her tolerance for being alone with me was at an end. I went to the door, gestured to him. He came in, sat down beside her.

The woman started talking about her father. “The town had a big ceremony to honor him. It’s because he’s done so much for everyone,” she said, pleased.

“Your parents are still healthy?”

“Oh yes! They still do everything for themselves.”

“Isn’t this the man who molested your sister?”

“Well, that’s what she said,” emphasizing said. “We had a big meeting about it when she was in the hospital. She says he molested me, too! I don’t remember anything, but she said she used to hear me screaming at night from my bedroom. I don’t remember,” she repeated.

She’s told me she hears voices, but resists medication.

Her husband started, “You know, with our daughter, I would never think of such a thing,” he said. “Never even crosses my mind!”

“And your mother was at this meeting?” I direct this to her, ignoring him.

“Oh yes.”

“And she stayed married to him?” Prodding.

“Oh yes. They’ve been married for 65 years.”

Undoubtedly they didn't allow daughters in their bed because he wanted them alone, I thought. I wondered what the voices whispered to her as I gave up prodding.