“You are?” She blinked rapidly, unsure if I was speaking thetruth.
“Damn straight, I am, and you should be so proud of yourself.”
“But we didn’t get far.” Confusion filled her voice.
“Oh, but we did, I promise. I had no expectation that you’d be willing to share what you have today. I always have hope, but it’s never expected. The fact that you trusted me with your secret is everything.”
I was glad I was recording our sessions so I could focus entirely on her and not try to take notes simultaneously. “I have a favor I’d like to ask you. I think it’ll be instrumental in helping you come to terms with Mischa and how she played a part in your life. Do you think you could trust me to ask one more thing?”
“Yes, Sir, I trust you.”
“Thank you. I think maybe it would be helpful if we said goodbye to Mischa properly.” I watched her closely.
“But, Sir, she was not a good girl,” she stammered.
“Let me ask you a question. Was Mischa a grown-up or a child?”
“She was a child, Sir,” she said, confused.
“Do you know how old she was approximately? Can you give me a guess?”
“Not really, but maybe nine or ten. I don’t know, Sir, I’m sorry.”
Another nugget. If Mischa “died” at nine or ten, then it had to be Owen or someone in her life during that time frame.
“You’re doing so well. Remember, you don’t have to know the exact answer as long as you’re answering truthfully, and I believe you are.” I waited as she nodded and relaxed a little. “Children, especially nine- or ten-year-olds, are very seldom bad, and even if they are, they don’t deserve death. Even if they are a psychopath, which Mischa wasn’t, she didn’t deserve death. She didn’t drive the car. She didn’t use her physical hands to kill her parents and unborn sister.”
Her mind worked to process my words, struggling to believe them. The poor child must have been forced to believe those lies. It was the only thing that made sense. Even if she was cognizant that they were there because of her, so much of the story made little sense. Some cruel person had put those thoughts into her head. Why?
“Children’s minds are still developing and maturing. In fact, yours isn’t fully matured yet. Our minds don’t come to full maturity until we’re twenty-five. That means mistakes happen, and poor decision-making, such as not listening, forgetting things, not following rules, and being selfish, are all a part of maturing and growing up.”
She gulped, struggling to come to terms with what I was saying.
“To hold a small child to that level of expectation of perfection is just not realistic. I personally am sorry that someone did that to Mischa.”
“But…but.”
“Ms. Taylor, I’m telling you, not asking you, to please give Mischa some grace. She was a small child, incapable of being labeled bad. She never got a real chance. And that’s heartbreaking. I think it’s time that you forgive her.”
The realization came, breaking her into thousands of pieces. She fell apart in front of my eyes. She cried for a solid ten minutes straight. Once her gut-wrenching sobs subsided, she blew her nose. Then she hiccuped like a small child. I never wanted to hug a patient more. Thankfully, she had three very willing men who would.
“I have some homework for you.”
“Ye-yes, Sir.” She continued to hiccup.
“I want you to find a song that you could sing in her honor. Then I want you to come to our next session ready to sing it for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said obediently. “I can do that.”
“Who are you sleeping with tonight?” I always ended the session with this question.
“Nik, Sir,” she said, blushing.
“Is there anything you think he should know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Very well, then. I suggest you take it easy for the rest of the day.”
