David and I started couples counseling in July with a therapist in Clintonville named Dr. Amara Okafor, who specializes in what she calls “enmeshed family systems.” In our first session, she asked David to describe his relationship with his mother. He talked for forty-five minutes straight.
At the end, Dr. Okafor said gently, “David, it sounds like your mother taught you that love is a debt. That you owe her for raising you, and that the payments never end.”
David stared at her. “That’s exactly what it feels like.”
“And Rachel,” she said, turning to me, “it sounds like you learned to stay quiet so you wouldn’t make him choose.”
“Yes,” I said.
“The goal here isn’t for David to stop loving his mother,” Dr. Okafor said. “It’s for both of you to understand that your marriage is the family now. Your mother is a relative. You can love her. But she doesn’t get a vote on how you spend your money, your time, or your anniversaries.”
David nodded slowly.
He changed some things after that. He stopped calling his mother every night at nine. Now he calls her on Sunday afternoons. When she asks for money, which she still does, he says no. Last month, she called about her new condo’s HOA fees. David listened, said he was sorry she was stressed, and told her she’d have to work it out with Frank.
She hung up on him. He let her.
Linda married Frank in September, on a beach in Naples. We weren’t invited.
David found out from Facebook, the same way I’d found out about Frank. He looked at the photo for a long time: his mother in a white sundress and a crown of flowers, Frank beaming beside her, the Gulf of Mexico sparkling behind them.
“She looks happy,” he said finally.
“She does,” I said.
“I hope she is.” He closed the app. “I just can’t be the one paying for it anymore.”
