Page 83 of Save the Date

“Do you want to come in with me? We got some new artwork I think you’d like,” Emma fibbed.

“Sure,” Debbie said as Alan unbuckled his seat belt next to her. They all climbed out and followed Emma through the door into the waiting room.

“It’s right through here,” Emma lied again as she directed her parents into her shared office.

Imani looked up from her seat in the therapist chair and smiled.

“Imani, hi,” Debbie exclaimed, always happy to see her daughter’s closest friend. “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“Not at all. I was actually waiting for you.”

Alan and Debbie looked at Emma in confusion. She gestured for them to sit on the couch. They reluctantly obliged.

“What’s going on?” Alan asked. “I thought we were going to Olive Garden.”

“I know you did,” Emma replied as she perched herself on the arm of Imani’s chair. “And I’m sorry for the misdirect but I didn’t know what else to do. I’m really worried about you two.”

“You’re worried aboutus? Why?” Debbie asked, completely lost.

“Because you aren’t prioritizing each other anymore. Ever since Dad retired, your dynamic has been off, but neither one of you wants to properly address it.”

“Oh, honey,” Debbie replied, “I think you’re overreacting. We’ve been married for a very long time. There are always bumps in the road but it’s nothing to worry about. Right, Alan?”

Instead of answering, Alan shrugged.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Debbie demanded, already annoyed and reverting to defensive mode. Alan wasn’t providing the backup she’d expected.

“I don’t know. This feels…different. Like you can’t stand to be around me.”

“Oh my god, just because I don’t want you breathing down my neck all day doesn’t mean I can’t stand to be around you.”

“When you put it like that, I guess I have nothing to worry about,” Alan replied sarcastically.

Debbie opened her mouth to retort but Emma put up a hand to stop her. “Before you keep going, I am going to excuse myself and turn it over to Imani to help facilitate your discussion.”

“What?” Alan and Debbie shouted in unison.

“It’s not ethical for me to run a session with my own parents.”

“It’s also not ethical for me to run a session with my best friend’s parents,” Imani clarified. “So, I need to make it extremely clear that I am not here as a therapist and you are not here as my clients. We are just three people who are going to have a constructive conversation that no one will ever mention to my licensing board.”

“This is ridiculous,” Debbie protested. “I’m sorry Emma roped you into this, Imani, but we are perfectly capable of resolving things by ourselves. Not that there is anything we even need to resolve in the first place.”

“Why don’t we just give it a try, Debbie?” Alan asked gent­ly. “I know you think therapy isn’t for you but how can you know that when you’ve refused to try?”

Emma restrained herself from giving her father a fist bump. She had tried to relay the exact same argument to her mother countless times only to be stonewalled. Debbie loved the idea of therapy—but only for other people.

“Because I know I don’t want to talk about myself with a total stranger,” Debbie countered. “It’s not in my nature to share on command.”

“I’m not going to make you share anything you don’t want to,” Imani said kindly. “I’m just here to be a neutral third party if the two of you get stuck or want another perspective. We can always give it a try and if you don’t feel like it helped, Emma will do your laundry for a month.”

Emma shot Imani a look. It was the first she was hearing of this plan, but she had to admit it was a good one. “I’ll even iron your T-shirts.”

Alan playfully poked his wife in the arm. “You’ve got to admit, that is a good deal.”

Debbie sighed and turned to her husband. “How important is this to you? On a scale of one to ten?”

“Nine-point-five.”

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