little too often, I don’t binge drink, I don’t get hammered – well not usually. I don’t start and then am unable to stop. I’m not my mother. You of all people know that.”
Lisa accepted the cup of tea. “Milk?”
“Fridge,” Jessie instructed. “Did you ever think maybe she’s just trying to find a reason to smother me, to try to do some of the child rearing she should have been doing when she was in her late teens? It’s not always as simple with her as ‘my daughter has a problem.’ Mom is a survivor, but as a result she’s always got some angle she’s working.”
Lisa put the milk away, and they went into the living room to sit down. “Okay, so maybe she’s overreacting. But you said it yourself: you drink too often. The last three times we’ve been out, you’ve gone home with some random dude…”
“Hey! It’s not like we go out that often, sweetie. I’m a woman, I have needs like anyone. Geez…”
Lisa held up both hands. “I’m just saying. And you admitted when we were in law school that you had trouble relaxing, letting work go. You haven’t been at the gym in I can’t remember how long. And with the job you’ve got now…?” She played it carefully; Jessie could be volatile about the drinking issue, but her friends all agreed she lacked awareness of her own limitations, too. That wasn’t the most optimistic sign.
Jess knew it came from the right place, annoying as the attention could be. “Okay, I get it. Damn! You’re acting like I slip a flask into my inside pocket every morning after I kick my latest conquest to the curb…”
“Maybe the problem is you’re behaving like you did in college, where the work was everything, and you didn’t know how to relax and find other things to do.”
She hated to admit it, but Lisa was probably right. When was the last time she’d gone out and done something new, on her own or just with a girlfriend or two? She couldn’t remember. She worked late, and evening stuff added fatigue to an already tiring typical day. It was easier just to have a couple of quick ones. There were so many cases, so many people who wanted her help. Weekends were burnout zones, sleeping in late, wandering over to Ninety-seventh Street for brunch or dim sum, hanging out and watching crime shows…
“Holy crap,” Jessie said. “I think you might have something there. I really need a hobby that doesn’t involve wine, or the law, or random bad boys.”
“I hate to bear the bad news.”
“I know.” She knew one other thing: Lisa was always there to help her through it. She had been since high school.
“So what are you going to do? You could always try counselling or…”
“Like I said, it’s not that bad. It’s… okay, maybe it’s something to consider. But I’m not so far gone that…”
“It’s not a weakness to ask for help. It’s just smart.”
Jessie didn’t really want to hear that. “I can deal with my own issues, thank you.” She’d made an art of it, if she was being totally honest, and liked to think it came from having family who couldn’t handle their own baggage, let alone introspection.
“Fine.” Lisa gave it some thought. “So you’re sure you recognize there’s actually an issue.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“You’re being obtuse,” Lisa said. “Tell me: why do you think you drink so much?”
“I drink…” She pondered the possibilities for a moment. “I drink because I feel like what I do for a living is ultimately pointless. That no matter how many people I help, tomorrow I’ll go to the clinic and there will be just another person with another problem, someone whose life has gone all wrong and who needs me. And it never gets fixed. The lineup never ends.”
“Okay.” If Jessie wanted a suggestion, she would ask for one, Lisa knew.
“I don’t like admitting it, but… when I even try to think about relaxing, it actually feels like I’m taking on something else, you know? Having a
Lisa accepted the cup of tea. “Milk?”
“Fridge,” Jessie instructed. “Did you ever think maybe she’s just trying to find a reason to smother me, to try to do some of the child rearing she should have been doing when she was in her late teens? It’s not always as simple with her as ‘my daughter has a problem.’ Mom is a survivor, but as a result she’s always got some angle she’s working.”
Lisa put the milk away, and they went into the living room to sit down. “Okay, so maybe she’s overreacting. But you said it yourself: you drink too often. The last three times we’ve been out, you’ve gone home with some random dude…”
“Hey! It’s not like we go out that often, sweetie. I’m a woman, I have needs like anyone. Geez…”
Lisa held up both hands. “I’m just saying. And you admitted when we were in law school that you had trouble relaxing, letting work go. You haven’t been at the gym in I can’t remember how long. And with the job you’ve got now…?” She played it carefully; Jessie could be volatile about the drinking issue, but her friends all agreed she lacked awareness of her own limitations, too. That wasn’t the most optimistic sign.
Jess knew it came from the right place, annoying as the attention could be. “Okay, I get it. Damn! You’re acting like I slip a flask into my inside pocket every morning after I kick my latest conquest to the curb…”
“Maybe the problem is you’re behaving like you did in college, where the work was everything, and you didn’t know how to relax and find other things to do.”
She hated to admit it, but Lisa was probably right. When was the last time she’d gone out and done something new, on her own or just with a girlfriend or two? She couldn’t remember. She worked late, and evening stuff added fatigue to an already tiring typical day. It was easier just to have a couple of quick ones. There were so many cases, so many people who wanted her help. Weekends were burnout zones, sleeping in late, wandering over to Ninety-seventh Street for brunch or dim sum, hanging out and watching crime shows…
“Holy crap,” Jessie said. “I think you might have something there. I really need a hobby that doesn’t involve wine, or the law, or random bad boys.”
“I hate to bear the bad news.”
“I know.” She knew one other thing: Lisa was always there to help her through it. She had been since high school.
“So what are you going to do? You could always try counselling or…”
“Like I said, it’s not that bad. It’s… okay, maybe it’s something to consider. But I’m not so far gone that…”
“It’s not a weakness to ask for help. It’s just smart.”
Jessie didn’t really want to hear that. “I can deal with my own issues, thank you.” She’d made an art of it, if she was being totally honest, and liked to think it came from having family who couldn’t handle their own baggage, let alone introspection.
“Fine.” Lisa gave it some thought. “So you’re sure you recognize there’s actually an issue.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“You’re being obtuse,” Lisa said. “Tell me: why do you think you drink so much?”
“I drink…” She pondered the possibilities for a moment. “I drink because I feel like what I do for a living is ultimately pointless. That no matter how many people I help, tomorrow I’ll go to the clinic and there will be just another person with another problem, someone whose life has gone all wrong and who needs me. And it never gets fixed. The lineup never ends.”
“Okay.” If Jessie wanted a suggestion, she would ask for one, Lisa knew.
“I don’t like admitting it, but… when I even try to think about relaxing, it actually feels like I’m taking on something else, you know? Having a
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