Page 2 of The Paradox Club

“What about her?”

“Does she make you feel safe?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Haven’t we been through this before?”

“No, we haven’t. Maybe you’re thinking of another therapist?”

“Maybe.”

“It says here you’ve seen four other therapists in the office since you came to the University of Illinois.”

“Sounds about right.”

“How many therapists have you had in your life, Tess?”

“I don’t know. I just think of my previous therapist as number n, which makes you therapist number n + 1. And here you are two sessions in and we’re already having fun.”

“So, why doesn’t your mother make you feel safe?”

“She doesn’t love me.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“She blames me for Harry’s death.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She said so.”

“Was she abusive?”

“She didn’t pay enough attention to me to be abusive. She acted like I didn’t exist.”

“She neglected you.”

“After Harry died, she didn’t want me around. We tried a few times—a week here, an overnight there. Once even as long as a month. But it was even worse being ignored in person than being neglected from across town. Once in a while she might notice me enough to harp on me about something. You hung your toothbrush up backward. You didn’t fold the towels properly. You can’t possibly wear that shirt with those pants. I actually liked it when she nagged me. At least it was an acknowledgment of my existence. Those were rare.”

“Did you ignore her, too?”

“Eventually.”

“And where did you live, when you weren’t with your mother?”

“With my aunt Vivian.”

“Right. You mentioned her last time. ‘Crazy Vivian,’ I think you called her.”

“Something like that.”

“How do you think your mother would react if you reached out, if you told her you needed help?”

“She’d be annoyed, and she wouldn’t lift a finger. But she’d come up with some excuse to make her—what did you call it?—her neglect seem reasonable.”

“Maybe you underestimate her.”