thoughtful and troubled, and I feel a sudden tremor of fear. What is she thinking right now, about me?
“I wouldn’t say that’s your problem, no,” she says at last. “But, Beth…” Again I feel that flutter, wild and uncontained, and I have a sudden certainty that I don’t want to hear what she’s going to say next.
“What?” I ask, even though I don’t want to know.
“Have you started your counselling sessions yet?”
“No, there wasn’t an available spot until next week.” Why is she asking me about that now? What does she think is wrong with me? “What were you going to say?” I demand, because now I realize I do want to know.
“Have you ever considered that your relationship with Dylan might be… a bit too intense?” Susan asks, choosing each word as if it’s fragile and likely to break.
“Too intense?” I stare at her blankly. What does that even mean? “What are you trying to say?” I ask, and now I sound aggressive.
“I’m not saying anything definitively, Beth. I just want to encourage you to think about that.”
“Think about what? That I’m too intense? That I’m somehow bad for my son?”
“You and Dylan have lived very isolated lives. I think it’s lent a certain intensity to your relationship that might not be very helpful to Dylan.” She gives me a quick smile that I think is meant to be reassuring. “But perhaps this is something you can discuss during your counselling sessions.”
She turns into Ally’s driveway, leaving me both reeling and defensive, and when I unbuckle my seatbelt, she doesn’t unbuckle hers.
“I thought you could have an unsupervised visit with Dylan today,” she says. “Since the last two visits have gone so well. If you’d like to take him for a walk or to the park… In another week, we can discuss a longer visiting arrangement—I’m planning to recommend two hours, twice a week.”
“You’re not coming?” I say dumbly.
“Not this time. I’ve got an appointment in Bloomfield. Are you okay to walk home?”
“Oh… yes.” I feel as if I’ve been let out of prison, but it also feels as if I’m in free fall. Susan is abandoning me. I’m used to her walking me into the house, chatting with Ally while I sit with Dylan. It’s only happened twice, but already it has become a routine. “So… is that how it will go from now on?”
“That’s the hope.” Her smile widens, as if to include me. “The goal for all of us, Beth, is reunification.”
“Right.” I feel weirdly nervous about seeing Dylan alone, and that makes me anxious. How can I be nervous? And yet how can Susan drop that bombshell about me being too intense, and then in the next breath tell me she’s not coming in with me?
“Beth?”
I realize I’m just sitting there, staring. “Sorry.” I try for a smile. “Thanks.”
And then I am out of the car and walking up to Ally’s house as Susan drives off, feeling strangely light, a bit empty, as if I am missing something, my purse or even an arm.
“Beth!” Ally looks surprised to see me even though this visit has been arranged. I realize, as she cranes her neck to look behind me, that she’s been expecting Susan too.
“I came alone. Susan had another appointment, and she’s said that my visits with Dylan can be unsupervised.”
“Oh…” She hesitates, and I wonder if she thinks I’m lying, and just like that, I’m annoyed. I’m reminded of how much I don’t like this woman.
Last week, I recall, she fussed around, hovering over Dylan and me until Susan called her back and asked for a cup of coffee. I saw that Dylan had a new lunchbox, to match his backpack. I knew he’d started school, but the sight of that shiny lunchbox unnerved me. And when I asked Ally about school, she was way too enthusiastic, telling me how absolutely wonderfully he was doing, which made me feel worse. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did.
Now, without Susan here, I drop any pretense of friendliness. “May I see my son, please?” I ask with pointed iciness, and she blinks.
“Yes, of course.” She steps aside and I stride in, looking for Dylan. “He’s in the family room,” Ally says, trotting behind me as I head to the back of the house.
The house is even nicer than I remembered from the last two weeks. Everything smells lemony and clean, with underlying homely aromas of coffee and dinner cooking—something beefy and comforting that makes my mouth