21
|NICOLE |
I recoil, cut to the bone by his assessment of the situation.
But I don’t back down. “Logan, as I told you months ago, I’m not reckless. Every decision I make is in my clients’ best interests.”
“Is that how you see Hannah? As just one your clients?”
No. No, I don’t. But that’s a different discussion altogether. “It’s important that she take these calculated risks.”
“Operative word being ‘risk.’ She’s too young to make decisions involving risk, and clearly, you’re not the right person to be making any such decisions for her either. She is not going up again.” Logan sounds as angry as I’ve ever heard him.
Hannah looks devastated. “But Daddy, it’s not her fault. And I really do want to—”
“I said no.”
Tears flooding her eyes, Hannah stares up at him for a beat in utter disbelief, before she turns and rushes off the floor to the women’s restroom.
Logan follows her, looking equally devastated. And ready to break down the door.
“You’re not listening to her,” I say quietly, as gently as I can.
He ignores me and makes his way to his office.
I slip in before he can shut me out. “Logan—”
“Look, Nicole, I get that your intentions are good, but you’re not a parent, so you don’t know anything about having to say no to your child. Do you think this is easy for me?”
He’s not yelling. And that makes the words hit me harder than a shout would have. “With all due respect, you don’t get to tell me how to feel or how to decide what’s best for my kid. You’ve never had to make the tough decisions a parent does. You’ve never had to wonder if this time, she’s sick enough to go to the E.R. or if the day after one of her friends makes her cry her eyes out, she’s not better off staying at home where you can shield her from undue pain. You’ve never had to worry about your kid trick or treating after confirmed cases of razor blades and needles in candy, or predators living nearby, or cyber bullying, or the countless other terrifying things out there for us to be outright terrified over.”
It’s not frustration I hear in his voice, it’s something else, something like disappointment. And that’s perhaps the toughest thing for me to hear right now.
“You’re a great therapist,” he says in a matter-of-fact way that sounds both admiring, and flatly final. “But you’re not a parent. You’re crossing a line right now and if you don’t back off, we won’t be able to come back from this.”
For the first time in my career, I’m starting to question my ability to see that line he’s referring to.
Logan sighs. “Until now, you’ve only had other people’s kids to guide. Guide, Nicole, not raise. There’s a big difference.”
He has a point, an excellent one. I know it. But I have one, too.
“Maybe I am overstepping here,” I concede. “You’re right. I’m not a parent. I don’t know how to be a parent. But you’re wrong in thinking that I’m trying to stop or influence your parenting. We each have very different roles. For you as a parent, when your child falls, it’s your job to hold her for as long as she needs, to kiss her injuries and make her feel better, make her feel loved and happy in the way that only you can. For me as a therapist, when a child falls, it’s my job to help her cope, help her discover and reconcile her thoughts and emotions, help her move past that fall…with none of the same amazing things you have at your disposal.”
I feel an ache in my heart I’ve never felt before as I tell him plainly, “We don’t get to be their favorite person in the world, the one who can make them feel better with a hug, the one whose love holds more power than we’ll ever have.”
He’s calmer now, almost thoughtful.
“When she fell off her bike when she was first learning to ride, what did you do?” I ask then.
He glares at me, all calmness back off the table. “Not the same thing.”
“No, it’s not,” I agree. “This is a heck of a lot harder, I know. For both of you. Which means it’s going to take more strength from both of you. I know you think I’m in the wrong here, and again, maybe I am. But isn’t it possible that I’m also right about this?”
His arms cross his chest as another barrier, even as the anger in his eyes begins to thaw.
“I know I’m not Hannah’s parent, and I get that you love your daughter more than any other human being on this planet. But you know the rest of us who’ve grown to know and care about her love her fiercely as well, right?”
I point out his window to his concerned workers on the floor shooting worried glances our way. “That’s why they all told me about Hannah’s school troubles to begin with. That’s why they’ve each taken turns teaching Hannah their own personal tips and tricks on the wall. We all love that little girl. None of us would ever put her in harm’s way. You believe that, right?” I ask. “That none of us would do anything that wasn’t in her best interest. That I wouldn’t be standing here trying to convince you to let her go up if I thought in any way that it would be more detrimental than beneficial for her? Do you believe I care about her enough to do right by her in this situation?”
He takes another deep breath.
Before he can answer, Hannah pushes the door open and comes in.
“Dad.” She meets his gaze dead-on. “I want to go up again. I know you’re scared for me, and I’m scared, too. But, I need you to let me try again.” Her voice grows stronger with each word. “And if I fall again, I need you to let me try again after that.”
My heart is just about bursting at the seams. A few months ago, she’d never have been able to do this. God, she’s come such a long way.
Logan clenches the edge of his desk until his knuckles turn white. “Honey, I want to say yes, but you don’t know what fear can do to you up there. I do. I’ve had the scariest things in my life happen to me. I’ve lost things I can’t ever get back. If you got injured up there, I’d never recover. I’d never forgive myself.”
Me, too.
“Please, daddy. Just let me try.”
I look over at Logan and see he’s wrestling with himself.
“There is a way we can reduce the fear factor a little for her,” I say, hoping I’m doing the right thing.
Hannah looks over at me. “Really? How?”
I can feel Logan’s disapproval over me butting in again, but despite what he thinks, I’m not here to railroad over his feelings, or his role in his daughter’s life and choices. So, I turn to him and simply give him as much info as I can to help him make this difficult decision.
“There have been studies showing how climbing blindfolded focuses the mind and body on the climber’s sense of touch over the climber’s surroundings. It proved remarkably successful for people who had a fear of heights, which is why I believe it can work here.”
He’s still looking at me like I’m nuts, but, I forge on. “Relying only on her sense of touch could help Hannah tune into her body while she’s climbing, and offer her brain a constant security that would not be there if she could see her environment. Not just that, but follow-up studies have shown that in females in particular, the blindfold doesn’t just dramatically reduce fear, but it also effectively boosts the climber’s self-confidence and strengthens their belief in their ability to accomplish the task at hand.”
I look back at Hannah. “Now sweetie, putting all the studies and therapy research aside, I want you to understand something very important. You have something I’ve never had in my life. You have someone who loves you so much that no matter how high you climb, how far you go, he is right there with you. Your fears are his fears.”
As Hannah looks over at Logan, I truly do put aside all the psychological stuff then, and instead, speak from my heart, “I never had a parent love me the way your dad loves you. So, you need to understand that as frustrating as it may feel to have someone so connected to you, even when you’re up there trying to do this on your own, trust me when I say that not having that connection, that tether, makes the climb so much lonelier than it has to be. And so much scarier.”
My eyes are still on Hannah, but my words are being aimed at Logan as well. “If I were lucky enough to have a connection like that with any human being, I’d never do anything dangerous or reckless to sever it. Because I can guarantee you that I’d spend the rest of my life wishing I never lost it.”
Logan stares at me in stunned silence.
“I’ll leave you two alone to discuss this,” I say. “It’s a family decision. I’ll be right outside, ready to help whatever you decide.”
“No. Stay, Nicole.” Logan exhales heavily. “Please. I’m asking you to stay.”
I think that’s the first time he’s truly asked and not demanded.
Of course, I stay.