The People in the Mirror (8 page)

  That’s when a wonderful plan sprung full blown in my mind. I could nab a couple of birdies with a single stone too!

*  *

  Once inside Dr. Carcionne’s inner sanctum the next afternoon, I tried to remember exactly what I had rehearsed the night before, but the clever way I’d put it together slipped my mind. Then Dr. Carcionne really messed it up by starting off with her own agenda – or rather, Mom’s.

  “You mother mentioned that you’ve started up a friendship with a neighbor boy.”

  Something came over me. I wasn’t going to tolerate this spying any more. “Look, Dr. Carcionne, it’s like this – my Mom feels obligated to force me to come and see you. I’m interested in seeing that it’s as few times as possible, because you and she have an agenda for me. But it’s not
my
agenda. If I can’t come in here and and talk about what
I
want to talk about, and if I can’t feel like what goes on in here is confidential, then I’m going to be honest and tell you I’m going to clam up. It’s that simple. But if we can strike a bargain that this is
my
time, and
my
agenda, that it’s strictly confidential, then I might try to get involved in this process. If not, then... not.”

  Dr. Carcionne’s eyebrows went up. Btu, slowly, a smile spread over her face. “I agree with you completely. First let me reassure you that what little interaction you and I have had
has been
confidential. I haven’t told your mother what we’ve talked about. She just tells me what her concerns are about you, and, of course, I listen. But I agree with you that these sessions need to serve your needs, not your mother’s.”

  Now it was my turn for my eyebrows to go up. “Wow! That was pretty painless.”

  “So – what do you want to talk about?”

  “Well, if we’re going to work on what’s important to me, then I have
tons
of stuff. But at the top of the list is sort of this same subject. Let’s say there’s a mother who, whenever something happens to
her
, she has her daughter go to therapy because what’s upsetting to the mother she’s sure is causing the daughter to freak out. But it’s not true. The things that are biggest to the daughter, the mother either doesn’t think are important, or she doesn’t know about them at all.

  “So let’s say the daughter wishes there was something she could do to help her mother. For instance, when the mother had something stolen, and she’s really,
really
upset about it, instead of admitting that, she tells the daughter, oh, you must be so upset about this theft. You must be unhappy , you must be
scarred
. And the daughter answers that it does make her unhappy, but she’s not afraid or angry, and she’s certainly not scarred. She’s not afraid because she feels protected by her parents, she’s not angry because everything that was stolen was insured. Not that she doesn’t feel awful about it, but she’s not quietly freaking out. But she
does
think the mother is quietly freaking out. What could a daughter in a situation like that do to help the mother?”

  Dr. Carcionne nodded. I could tell she was really listening.

  “I’d suggest to the daughter that she tell the mother in this same direct way what her observations are.”

  “What if the daughter has done that, and the mother gets all mad because the daughter is acting insubordinate. What if the mother really can’t look at her stuff, and, in fact, it gets worse when the daughter tries to say out loud what she feels she’s seeing.”

  “Then I’d say the daughter has been put in a untenable position... the daughter is in a double bind.”

  “Yeah. I don’t know what that is, but it sounds right to me.”

  “It’s when, no matter what you do, you can’t do the “right” thing because the other person has made all the choices be wrong – so one can’t move in any direction. My next suggestion is that perhaps regarding this
one
subject the daughter let her therapist address it with the mother, and see if some progress can be made. What do you think of that alternative?”

  “Well... if that can be done very carefully, in order not the cause the mother to make the daughter’s life a living hell, like what happened when the therapist told the mother that the daughter accused the mother of projecting.”

  “Ahh. In that case, I can’t blame you for being cautious with me. I wouldn’t want to talk with me anymore, either. I have an idea, let’s write out a plan and an agreement for what our focus will be for the next few sessions. I’ll give this issue surrounding the mother’s projection some thought, if you don’t mind just letting things settle for the moment.”

  “I don’t mind. As long as I feel someone finally understands my dilemma, I can be very patient about how to solve it.”

Chapter IX

  I couldn’t have been more surprised when I walked through the door at home after my appointment with Dr. Carcionne, to hear Mitch in the kitchen talking with Mom.

  “Who’s that?” Dad asked.

  “Mitch,” I answered.

  “Hi, guys,” Mom called. “Come and join us. Mitch helped me carry in the groceries, and I asked him to stay for dinner. Mitch, this is Nikki’s father, Dan.”

  The two of them shook hands and exchanged greetings. I was delighted to see Mitch, but I felt strangely shy and at a loss for words. I didn’t really know Mitch that well, and now here he was, with
all
of my parents. Like, what could a person say, anyway?

  “How was your session?” Mom asked.

  Well, that was
absolutely
not what I wanted to have brought up. “Fine Mom.”

  “Really?”

  “Actually, yeah, really. But, you know, I don’t want to talk about it now.”

  “That’s okay. I already told Mitch where you were when he said he hoped he’d see you after school, but it seemed you didn’t come home.”

  What was okay about telling a boy you liked that you were at a shrink session? I wondered, verging on furious. “First you tell him you think I’m talking to myself in the hall, then you tell him I’m in therapy. You’re going to have him scared to even tip-toe past the door for fear of the crazy girl.”

  Mom laughed. “Nonsense. You’re being too sensitive.”

  “Well,” Mitch finally jumped in, “I’m,
not
afraid of you, and I
know
you’re not crazy. I think the science of the mind is very important,” he continued. “And to understand one’s mind with the assistance of someone trained in the field is the better part of wisdom.”

  “See?” Mom said. “He’s almost got me convinced to make an appointment for myself. After all, you don’t have to be dysfunctional to go to therapy. You can want to go and work on gaining insight.”

  “That’s nice that I don’t have to be dysfunctional, Mom.”

  “Oh dear,” Mom said, actually sensitive enough to become a bit flustered. “That didn’t come out like I meant it. Get washed up for dinner, it’ll be ready soon. Mitch is so helpful. He set the table and everything.”

  “Thanks,” I said to him as I left the kitchen. Well, what else do you say to a boy you like who has just done your chores?

  In my room I decided that the whole thing was a little too weird. Just entirely
toooo
much parent-presence. But I had to make the best of it. I pulled on a pair of jeans, then tried on half-a-dozen tops. Too casual, too ragged-old, ugly color, too dressy. There was no hope for it. I went back to “too casual,” the pale blue tee-shirt that sort of matched my eyes. Well, this was me most of the time. Mitch might as well know the real me, casual tee-shirts, shrink sessions, and all.

  Dinner was not quite the disaster I’d braced myself for. Mitch, with his adult manner, carried on intelligent, interesting conversation with my parents, but he didn’t miss an opportunity to give me the occasional side-long glance. We both seemed to understand that conversation between just the two of us was a lost cause, and besides, what I was learning about him through my parents’ curiosity was more than I’d ever ask him on my own. I couldn’t imagine asking him all these questions about his experiences, his family and his ambitions for the future.

  By the time Mom had brought out the cheesecake – which reminded me that I still wanted to talk with Mr. Zingas about why he didn’t like Mitch – Dad had offered to see what he could do to help Mitch get into college when the time came, or what he needed to do to test out, as he hadn’t had an institutional education. 

  “If you think you could pass college prep exams, I’m willing to go to bat for you,” Dad said.

  “I’ve been preparing for them on my own. I have more than one reference book and a bunch of sample tests. I believe I’ll do all right.”

  “Great! Of course, I wouldn’t want to go behind your uncle’s back, or have him think that I had, if he’s your legal guardian.”

  “Well, he’s not.” There was passion in Mitch’s voice. I looked at him quickly, it was the first thing like anger I’d seen cross his features. I could tell that Mom and Dad picked up on it too, but Dad just continued.

  “Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Your ambitions are admirable, and you’re obviously very bright, as well as mature. It doesn’t seem right that you be held back when in some ways you have it all over most college freshmen.”

  Mitch got shy. “Well, thanks. It’d mean more to me than I can express. It could make the difference for the whole path of my life.”

  After the dishes were cleared away and Mitch went down the hall to his home, I felt Dad looking at me.

  “What?” I finally said.

  “I can see why you find that young man attractive,” Dad answered.

  “Oh, Da-a-a-d!”

  “Your mom is right about him. The little boys you’ve been interested in up until this point have been, well, boys. But Mitch is an attractive, intelligent, poised young man.”

  “Are you telling me you don’t want me to go out with him?”

  “No, I’m not telling you that. I might as well chain you to your bedpost and never let you out of my sight ever again, as to say that. What I’m saying is... I’m saying that tonight I’ve had to take another look at my baby girl, and here I see she’s become a young woman. I don’t know why you have to grow up so fast Bunny Love, but my job is to be aware, and to remind you that I’m here if you need me.”

  Dad reached out and took Mom’s hand, “that
we’re
here, and you can ask us anything. Okay?”

  My telephone, laying on the entry table rang, which almost never happens, and with gratitude for the interruption, I leapt up to answer it.

  “Hi,” Mitch said.

  “Oh, hi.” He must have forgotten something. I looked around to see if there was anything that might be his.

  “I forgot to ask you something,” he said. “No, that’s not true, I didn’t forget, I just couldn’t ask you with your parents hanging onto every word. I wanted to ask you if you wanted to do something, maybe, on Saturday night. That’s when people our age go out and do things, right?”

  “Yeah, yes, pretty much.”

  “So, would you?”

  “Yes.” I turned my back to my parents. I was palpably aware of them behind me, straining their ears.

  “What would you like to do? I’m not too familiar with, I mean, I know sometimes there are high school sports that everyone goes to and you wouldn’t want to miss it, like basketball.”

  “Not this weekend, no.”

  “So, what would you like to do?”

  “Anything, really.” If you wanted me to go to Safeway and watch you buy canned vegetables, I’d be in heaven, I thought. But I didn’t say it.

  “Maybe this is a bit embarrassing to admit, but I’d kind of like to see the movie,
The Fairy Godfather
,” he said.

  “Yeah?” I was surprised. It was an animation, but was getting rave reviews. And it was a step up from spending an evening with him in Safeway. “Well, that’s fine with me,” I said.

  “You don’t think I’m like a kid to want to see it?”

  “I think we’re both sort of kids, and that’s okay.”

  “Well, okay. Great. I’ll come to your place at five on Saturday.”

  “Five?”

  “Is there anything wrong with that? I thought if we started the evening early, that’d make it last longer.”

  Good logic, I thought. “Yeah, that’s fine. Five.”

  “And tell your folks thanks again for me, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good night, then.”

  “Good night.” I disconnected the phone.

  There was silence for a few moments, but finally Mom said, “Well?”

  “That was Mitch.”

  “We figured that much.”

  “He wants to take me to a movie Saturday night.”

  “And so it begins,” Mom said melodramatically. “What movie?”

  “You’re never going to believe this – he wants to see
The Fairy Godfather
.”

  “Isn’t that a kid’s animation?” Dad asked.