It was a typical weekend morning, and since my mother didn’t have an upcoming trial, she was probably cooking something new. Cooking was her favorite thing to do when she wasn’t busy with the law firm. When I went to the kitchen for breakfast, there she was, in an apron near the stove.
“Right on time,” she smiled, pleased that everything was on schedule.
The food was prepared and we sat down to eat together. She asked me about college and all the usual things. It seemed like she was in a great mood this morning. Then she switched gears completely. Suddenly she was serious when she reached for something on the end of the table.
She slid a pamphlet across to me. “I’ll be attending Dr. Rossii’s two-day seminar in a few months from now. Have you ever heard of him?”
It looked like another therapy related thing that my mother has been involved with these past few years.
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied, briefly looking through the pamphlet. “He’s been on cable news a bunch of times, right?”
“That’s him. My therapist recommended him to me. They’re close friends. I’m also scheduled to have a few private meetings with Dr. Rossii since he’ll be in town for a week.”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing those private meetings aren’t free either.”
“The price is listed on the back,” she said.
I looked at the back of the pamphlet and I couldn’t believe it. “Jeez, mom, you’re paying all that for a seminar?”
“Well, I’ll be paying more since I’ll have private meetings with him. It’s worth every penny.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“You can’t have a stellar reputation like Dr. Rossii has unless there’s substance and legitimacy behind it. My therapist recommended him for good reason.”
“Yeah, and if this seminar is a scam, you could always sue him,” I joked.
“That wasn’t very funny.”
“I couldn’t resist. But seriously, this much therapy?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she replied.
“How do you know?”
“You just wouldn’t,” she replied with a little more authority.
“I think I’m old enough. I mean, if you need someone to talk to, besides a therapist or a famous doctor, then I’ll gladly listen. Seriously, I don’t mind.”
My mother gave me a kind-hearted smile. “You’re so sweet. You really are. It’s touching to hear you say that.”
“What else do you expect?” I smiled back, like it was no big deal. “I guess I’m a nice guy.”
“Of course you are,” she replied, half sarcastically.
Months later. It was late at night on a Saturday. I was sitting in the living room watching tv, when I heard my mother park in the driveway. She had just returned from a private meeting with Dr. Rossii. When she opened the door, there was a tense look on her face. As always, she was professionally dressed.
“So how did it go?” I asked, unsure of what to expect since she looked so serious.
She put her shoes away. “I won’t be seeing him anymore in the future. Don’t ask about him anymore.”
Of all the possible things she could have said, I wasn’t expecting to hear that.
“Long story,” she replied. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
She looked like she was about to head upstairs to her bedroom, but instead she just stood there and lingered around the living room. It was like she was debating with herself whether to tell me or not. Finally, she did.
“He asked if I wanted to go back to his room,” she reluctantly stated. “When I asked why, he insisted that it was for a deeper discussion. When I declined, he told me to close my eyes, then he tried kissing me and squeezing my breasts.”
I was taken aback by my mother’s explicit story. “What did you do after?”