A SHATTERING EXPERIENCE - Part I

This is the second in a series of occasional posts about my career as a therapist.   The events below occurred many years ago in another town.  No names are used and identifying details have been changed.

"I want you to do something about these kids before they drive me crazy," said the mother,  a large woman with stringy, dirty blonde hair and clothes she had outgrown long ago.  The girl and her little brother said nothing; they just sat there.

"All right," I said pleasantly to Mom.  I turned to the children.  "How old are you two?"

The boy's blue eyes lit up and he smiled.  "I'm four!" he announced loudly.  "I go to school!"

"You do not go to school, Stupid; he's in day care," said Mom irritably.  "And keep it down; I got a real bad headache and you're making it worse."

"Gee, I wonder why you got a headache," said the girl, not looking at her mother.

"Shut the hell up, you little bitch," said Mom.

I jumped in my chair, shocked.  "Ma'am, no one's allowed to swear here, not even you."

Her eyes narrowed.  "You telling me what to do, Lady?"

"Yes," I said evenly.  "I'm telling you you can't use that kind of language here."  Both kids looked at me, wide-eyed, and waited to see what would happen next.  "You seem kind of stressed today, Ma'am.  Do you want to tell me about that?"

"You'd be stressed too if you had my life.  I work hard all day, loading and unloading, at that crappy Wal-Mart.  God almighty, I hate that place!  Oh, sorry.  Then at night I go out for a few drinks to relax and Little Princess over here don't approve."

"And your daughter looks after your little boy when you go out?"

"Well, yeah.  She's old enough.  She's almost thirteen."

"She must be a big help to you," I said mildly.

"The house is always a mess and she knows what time I usually get home, but dinner's never ready.  And I'm hungry after being on my feet all day."

An almost palpable resentment hung in the air.

"So, your daughter babysits your son and cooks dinner at night.  That sounds like a lot of responsibility for a twelve-year-old.  And she probably has homework to do...."

"Well, someone in the family has to work you know.  Their worthless father don't send child support so it's all up to me!  If I wanna go out and have a drink..."

"You go out almost every night," said the little girl quietly.  "I get tired too."

This galvanized her mother who shot out of her chair.  "See, this is what I mean!  This smart ass talk has got to stop.  Her brother is starting to be a smart ass too.  This is why I brought these kids here, Lady; you have got to fix them.  They need to be respectful to their elders and do as I say!"

I looked into the little girl's face and saw despair.

TO BE CONTINUED