Reviving Ophelia - Mary Bray Pipher [66]
That’s what we worked on. Dale had been distant because of his own unprocessed pain and because of a lack of relationship skills. Indeed, this same lack of skills had probably cost him his marriage. Holly had been distant because she was abandoned. Her dad made it easy to stay distant. Prince was the perfect love object since he was a thousand miles away and totally inaccessible. She could love him without taking any risks.
Gradually Holly and Dale formed a caring relationship. They talked more about personal topics. For example, Holly asked about Dale’s friends at work and he said he avoided them. He told her they read Playboy and talked about women in a way that made him uncomfortable. Holly told him about the way boys teased her at school and about her discomfort when boys touched her in the halls. That led them into a philosophical discussion of the relations between the sexes. They both had things to learn and teach.
Dale became a more involved parent. He limited himself to an hour of television a night and spent the rest of his time talking to Holly, looking at her homework or working on a hobby. He asked to see Holly’s school papers and wanted reports on her day. Most teenagers would fight involvement at this late stage, but Holly was so lonely that she welcomed his attention. He wasn’t a harsh critic and she learned to trust her dad with her failures as well as her successes. He turned out to be always on her side, supportive of whatever she did.
They went to a rock-and-roll concert at the city auditorium. Holly shared her songs with Dale and he offered to pay for guitar lessons. Her mother had a good voice and he hoped Holly had inherited that from her. Holly set her songs to music and began sharing them with a local band called Power Peach.
KLARA (15) AND KURT
The school counselor called me about Klara, who was flunking math. She said, “Klara has been falling through the cracks in our system for years. She’s the kind of kid we tend to miss—well behaved, quiet and depressed. I noticed how thin she was last week when she came in with a truancy slip. I asked about her health and heard she hadn’t been to a doctor in years. That’s when I decided that she needed attention. She’s not in a crisis, just a slow slide down. If we don’t stop it, she’ll drop out of school next year when she turns sixteen.”
Klara came in with her father, Kurt. She was as the counselor had described—passive and demure. Kurt, a large bald man dressed in his work uniform, was an outspoken critic of psychotherapy. Since his wife died of cancer, he hated doctors. As he put it, “They take all your money and leave you with shit.” Besides, he didn’t think Klara needed help. “Hell, she keeps the house up fine. She does what she’s told. She’s not mouthy.”
We talked about Klara’s mother’s death, when Klara was four. Klara could hardly remember her. She had a few of her things: her mother’s wedding ring, her Bible and a fur cape that Kurt had given his wife as a fifth-year anniversary gift. She kept her picture on her dresser and had a letter her mother wrote to her that was to be read on her wedding day. In spite of being tempted, Klara hadn’t read it yet.
On the topic of his wife’s death, Kurt was originally gruff, but soon softened. His wife had been a “beautiful lady” who loved him and Klara “one hundred percent.” He visited her grave regularly. He had no interest in dating other women as there was no one like her. As Kurt talked, his eyes grew moist, but he stopped himself from crying. He balled up his fists and got mad instead. “Why are we talking about this? Isn’t school the issue today?”
I sensed that if Kurt cried in front of me he would be so humiliated that