Home Again

She was on her way to a meeting with her daughter’s high school guidance counselor. She did not expect it to go well.

Madelaine sighed, feeling the first telltale pulsings of a migraine headache. Yes, the Tom Grants of the world were the reason she did what she did, why she’d spent years in college, years without sleep or a social life, working herself like a demon to become a cardiologist. But there had been a price. As she got older, it was the truth she’d come to understand. There was always a price.

She was losing her daughter, watching Lina drift further and further away. Madelaine tried to be the perfect mother, just as she tried to be the perfect physician. But being a doctor was a snap compared to being a single parent. No matter how hard she tried, she failed with Lina, and it had gone from bad to worse. Lately their relationship had been hanging by a thread.

Madelaine wanted so badly to do the right thing, be the right thing, but what did she know of motherhood? She’d gotten pregnant as a teenager—much too young. She’d known she had to take care of her daughter, give Lina a good, stable life. Medical school had been a pie-in-the-sky goal at first. Madelaine had never believed she’d actually make it, but she’d kept plugging away, spending the trust fund that was her mother’s legacy. She’d worked her ass off to become the best and brightest of the graduating class, and she’d finished early.

But somewhere along the way, she’d gone wrong. At first it was little things—a missed birthday party, an emergency call on family night, a field trip she couldn’t make. Madelaine had been so consumed by her own ambition, she’d never noticed when her daughter stopped inviting her places, stopped counting on her to be somewhere or do something.

Now she was paying the price.

She pulled into the school parking lot, got out of the car, and strode through the school to the counselor’s office. At the closed door, she knocked sharply.

A muffled “come in” answered her.

Exhaling steadily, Madelaine collected herself, then went inside.

The counselor, a pert brunette named Vicki Owen, smiled broadly and extended her hand. “Hello, Dr. Hillyard. Come in. Sit down.”

Madelaine shook the woman’s hand. “Call me Madeline, please.”

Vicki took a seat behind her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. “I asked for this meeting because Lina is exhibiting some serious behavioral problems. She’s skipping classes, forgetting to turn in homework, mouthing off. Frankly, her teachers are at a loss. She used to be such a wonderful student.”

Madelaine felt every word like a blow. She knew it was true, knew her daughter was in trouble, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

Vicki’s face softened in understanding. “Don’t worry, Madelaine, it’s not just you. Every mother of a sixteen-year-old daughter feels the same way.”

Madelaine wanted to believe the counselor’s words, but she couldn’t allow herself such an easy way out. “Thank you,” she mumbled.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Madelaine gazed steadily into the counselor’s dark eyes. She wanted to share her burden with this young woman, to lay her cards on the table and say Help me, I’m lost, but she didn’t know how to be so open. She’d been taught from earliest memory to buck up and be strong. Showing weakness was incomprehensible to her. “I don’t think talking will solve my problem,” she said evenly.

Vicki paused for a moment longer, waiting, then she went on, “Lina’s teachers tell me that she responds well to discipline. Rules.”

Madelaine flinched at the subtle reproach. “Yes, she does. I just …” She stared at Vicki. I just don’t know how. “I think she needs more time with me.”

“Perhaps,” Vicki answered doubtfully.

“I’ll talk to her.”

Vicki folded her hands on the table. “You know, Madelaine, some things can’t be talked out. Sometimes a teenager needs to feel the wrath of God. Perhaps her father…”

“No,” Madelaine said quickly—too quickly. She tried to force a smile. “I’m a single parent.”

“I see.”

Madelaine couldn’t sit there another minute, couldn’t take what she saw in the counselor’s eyes. Her shame and guilt were overpowering. She lurched to her feet. “I’ll handle this, Vicki. You have my word on it.”

Vicki nodded. “The supermom is a tough row to hoe, Madelaine. There are several outstanding support groups that can help out.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your concern.” With a final nod, Madelaine turned and walked from the office. When the door clicked shut behind her, she closed her eyes for a second.

Perhaps her father…

She groaned. God, she didn’t want to think about Lina’s father. For years she’d pushed him out of her thoughts. And if, sometimes, late at night, the memories came to her, she shoved them away with a cold shower or a run around the block.

It had worked, too. After a while she stopped thinking about him, stopped needing or wanting him. There had been a time when she’d almost forgotten what he looked like.