Dr. Mason was pleased when Karen told him she had no secrets from me. We agreed to meet separately for an hour each. I would return after lunch to discuss Karen as she was a minor. The dual meeting was surprisingly short. I returned to Peck O' Fun, only two blocks away, while Karen met with the doctor alone. I passed the time with Mrs. Peck showing me how she ordered. Karen and I passed each other in the waiting room an hour later but she just smiled and shrugged, indicating no problem.
I realize now my approach to sessions with Dr. Mason was not truly honest. Perhaps my reluctance in answering his questions was a common reaction when you know someone is trying to crawl into your head, prying out thoughts and feelings you'd rather keep buried. I was a tad testy.
He glanced down at his paper work as we sat across from each other on adjoining sofas. "Sarah Jeanne Blanding Jacobson North," he read and smiled. "Are you used to not being Mrs. Jacobson yet?"
"I haven't used that name for six years. I was Ms. Blanding until recently."
"Why did you go back to your maiden name," he asked?"
"It was just easier, I guess."
"Ah," he said, for the first time. I learned quickly that ah was shrink-talk for saying you're lying out your ass.
"Sarah Jeanne," he said, without asking how I preferred to be addressed, "I want you to be relaxed during these sessions. Be totally yourself. Say what's on your mind without fear of judgment by me. Now, please tell me what you want to accomplish from our sessions together."
I sighed. I hate the way psychiatrists; or psychologist, which I learned was his title, talk. It's so predictable. "I want to stop feeling guilty about what I didn't do for my mother." There. I said it out loud. I found myself continuing when he didn't interrupt. "I don't want to spend my days wallowing in regrets for past sins. I have a great new life and my morbidity and bad dreams are getting in the way of enjoying it to the fullest." The bastard still didn't say anything. "My husband and I need to be there together, especially to help Karen. I don't have time for self-pity."
"Ah," he said. "Past sins. And what do you think they might be?" He let me go on, spilling my guts about what a shit I was to pass off to my sister the burden of my mother while I traipsed around the world.
"Suzie was starting college when my father died and my mother became ill. She never finished college. She dropped out to get married. While I smelled the roses, she smelled diapers."