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“Charlotte, I don’t know what was going on between you and Oliver, but I promise you this isn’t who he is. He doesn’t do things like this.”
“Oh really? Because I remember that his reputation of going from woman to woman was one of the reasons he was having a hard time getting a job. And because one of those women got mad, he moved to New York to try and avoid having to deal with her. So from my point of view, it looks exactly like who he is.” The elevator car arrives and I step in, and thankfully, Theo opts not to join me. Perhaps he got the message that I’m done with Oliver.
I manage to get through that day and the next few days, but the following week, my work schedule is going to be extra light because it’s Christmas week. Like Thanksgiving, this is going to be the first Christmas that I have alone. Because it’s too pathetic for me to bear, I’ve decided to volunteer to serve meals and help the homeless. It was something I used to do with my grandmother, and so it would serve two purposes, one being that it would help me feel closer to my grandmother, and two, I can give and make a difference in somebody’s life, which is a much better way to spend my time than wallowing alone, watching old holiday movies.
On Friday I’ve managed to see Rachel with her mother giving the reason that it would be two weeks before I see her again while they’re away on a holiday vacation. As usual, Rachel’s mother balked a little bit about having to sit in on the session, and normally when she did, I’d try to be subtle in directing her toward seeing her daughter in a more positive light and recognizing Rachel’s accomplishments and achievements.
But apparently, Oliver’s leaving has brought out a part of me that is more direct. And so this time, I confront Rachel’s mother head-on.
“Why is it that you think Rachel is lacking?" I ask, wanting clarity on exactly what her mother has problems with.
Rachel, who is slouching on my couch more than usual in an attempt to annoy her mother, watches her intently.
Rachel’s mother sits prim and proper, giving me the impression she’s wanting to make sure her walls are intact. “Rachel is lazy. She could do much better in all areas of her life if she just applies herself.”
“Give me an example,” I say.
“For one, if she’d eat right and exercise, and lost a little weight, she would feel better about herself and be more popular.”
Eating healthy and losing weight aren’t bad goals for parents to have if their child is at risk of health issues. But while Rachel is a little round in some areas, I don’t think that it’s compromising her health. So I can only surmise that her mother’s concern is with Rachel's appearance and assuming it’s leading to Rachel’s lack of popularity.
“My mom doesn’t like my nose either,” Rachel says, reminding me of the discussion we had in a session a few weeks earlier.
“I just think you’d be so much cuter if it didn’t droop down so much,” her mother says. She turns her attention to me. “Rachel says that there was a plastic surgeon here one afternoon. Maybe he could do it.”
The reminder of Oliver makes my heart ache, but I swallow it down. “He won’t do that procedure for Rachel.”
“Why not? We can afford it,” her mother says.
For one, he isn’t in New York, I think, but don’t say. “Because he told me he didn’t think she needed anything done. He thought she looked fine."
It’s a reminder of how that day I had jumped to conclusions about him, but since then had learned that he was discriminating on who he performed procedures on. I remember seeing him tell Dr. Kramer that he refused a patient who wanted to look like somebody else. So while he might have changed my opinion of him in the area of plastic surgery, I am still angry at him for leaving me. I told him I would stand by him, and he still left.
Everyone always left.
My mother left in her pursuit of beauty, which ended up killing her. Stephen left because he wanted somebody other than me. Oliver left for reasons I’m not sure of, although maybe he sensed I loved him and it freaked him out. Whatever the reason, it doesn’t change the fact that he left. My grandmother left too, although I didn’t feel abandoned like I did with the others. She’d fought her battle with cancer valiantly till the end.
“The thing is, if she lost a little weight and got her nose done, she would be so popular. Maybe she could be on the cheerleading team even.”
Rachel rolls her eyes.
“Rachel, do you want to be on the cheerleading team?” I ask.
“No,” she says in that typically exaggerated way that teenagers sometimes talk.
“Were you on the cheerleading team?” I ask her mother.
Rachel’s mother’s gaze drifts down. “No. I wasn’t coordinated, but Rachel is. She has so many talents that she’s just letting slip through her.”
Rachel’s head jerks back and she looks at her mother like she’s grown a third eye. I get the impression that it’s the first compliment she’s heard from her mother in a long time.
In this moment, things are beginning to shift. I can see a mother who on one hand is trying to live vicariously through a daughter that she envies because Rachel can achieve more than her mother had.
“Rachel, what sorts of things would you like to do?” I ask.
“I like art, and my art teacher says I’m really good. I won the school art competition this year. I asked mom if I could turn the attic into a studio, but she said no. I don’t know why. There’s nothing up there.”
I turn to her mother. “You want Rachel to reach her potential, which in this case seems to be in art, but you don’t support that. Why won’t you let her excel in art?”
