“Oh yes, it is,” she said. “I’m sorry, but it’s just one of the laws of nature or physics or whatever. You’ve got gravity, that’s one, then you have the one about objects in motion, and lastly, you’ve got the fact that all parents will inevitably mess up their kids in one way or another.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I simply do not accept that premise.”
She laughed. Loudly, and right in my face. “Are you suggesting that your parents didn’t mess you up in some way?”
“Of course they did,” I said. “My dad did a number on me and all my brothers. And my mom—well, she didn’t do anything actively to mess us up, so there you go, she’s the exception to the rule.”
“There’s not one choice she made that you didn’t agree with? One thing she said or didn’t say that still haunts you to this day?”
I took a deep breath in and truly thought about the answer to her question. Then I sighed. “I guess I can think of something. There was this one time when I was maybe a little older than Will, when my dad was being so obviously unfair. He was throwing one of his famous David Becker tantrums and I was caught in the crosshairs that day. I went to my mom and I told her how I felt like he was being a real jerk, and all I wanted was for her to take my side for once.”
“But what did she do instead?”
I looked away. “She said what she always did when I complained about my dad. She told me that he was doing all he could to take care of this family and that I would understand the pressures of being a parent when I was older.”
“And now that you are a parent,” she said. “You understand that just because there’s a lot of pressure, it didn’t give your dad an excuse to be a… well, it sounds like he was a real asshole.”
I grinned so hard when she said that, my cheeks actually started to hurt. “He is still an asshole. And yeah, I guess that’s the gist of it.”
“I’m sorry your mom didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear,” Stephanie said. “But I’m sure she thought she was doing what was best for you. And that’s all you can ask for from your parents. A good parent is someone who is always trying to do the right thing, but there is no such thing as a parent who never makes mistakes.”
I smirked. “So what you’re saying is that I should just let Will watchJurassic Park.”
“No,” she said. “I’m just saying that your fear of messing up is what’s dividing your emotional brain from your logical brain. Of course you can’t listen to reason if your heart is screaming at you about all the ways Will could be hurt by you making the wrong choice. But if you keep letting those fears have such a loud voice in your head, you’re only going to be pushed into making decisions that are less and less logical. Soon, you’ll be a grade-a helicopter mom.”
“Ha!” I said. “That’s my worst nightmare.”
“It’s every parent’s worst nightmare.”
I leaned back into the couch and ran a hand through my hair. “Do you moonlight as a therapist or something?”
She laughed. “No. I’ve just read a lot of books on parenting. And I have a degree in child psychology. And I have spent many late nights talking with parents about how they worry they’ve messed up their kids for good. For some reason, they always come to the nanny to lament.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve just got one of those personalities, you know?”
“What kind of personality?”
“The kind that makes people feel comfortable opening up to you.” I couldn’t help but smile a little. “You would make a really good bartender.”
“I guess I’ll add that to my list of back-up plans.”
We both chuckled and then I remembered something. The memory came from a dusty part of my subconscious, one that had remained untouched for some time. I laughed some more and she raised her eyebrows at me. “I just remembered that I used that line on another woman once upon a time.”
She drew back in her chair. “I hadn’t realized you were using a line on me.”
I put my hands up to stop her train of thought right there. “Oh, I wasn’t! Not with you. I really meant it, that you’re someone people want to open up to. But when I said that, it made me think of another time I told a woman the very same thing, and that time I was using it as a line.” I winced. “Don’t judge me.”
She smirked. “Did it work?”
“The line? I mean, you tell me.” I motioned with my head towards the staircase leading to the second level where Will was probably halfway through his new book already. “Ten months after I met her, Will came to town.”
“Will’s mom? You used that line on Will’s mom?”
“I did indeed. We met at a bar, and for some reason I started spilling my guts to this woman—I guess because I was drunk and my whole life had just been thrown for a major loop—and she sat there and listened to me without interruption.”
“Sounds like a nice girl.”
“Nah,” I said. “She only stuck around because I had let her put her and her friend’s drinks on my tab.”