On Monday afternoon, I was finishing up the paperwork on my three o’clock appointment when the buzzer from the front desk rang, letting me know that my next patient had arrived. I hurried out to the reception area eager to see Maya. I felt a sense of relief when I saw her standing in the reception area waiting for me. She was wearing a pair of faded blue-jeans with holes in the knees that reminded me of when I was a teenager.
“Hi, Ms. Martínez,” Maya said. “I bet you thought I wouldn’t come.”
“Oh, I knew you wouldn’t be able to pass up seeing what a shrink’s office looks like,” I said, smiling.
Maya’s face broke out in a smile.
“Follow me to my think tank,” I ordered.
As soon as we were inside my office, Maya proceeded to lie down on the leather couch, stretching out her lanky body. “Okay, doc,” she teased. “I’m ready.”
I started to laugh. No wonder Juanita admired Maya as much as she did. Maya was one of a kind.
“So this is what a shrink’s office looks like,” Maya exclaimed, sitting back up.
“Quite an exciting place,” I replied, feeling amused by Maya’s forceful personality. She was a lot like Sonia, even though neither would ever admit it.
“What you need are some cool posters,” Maya advised me. “Like one of Onyx or maybe Lighter Shade of Brown.”
“You’re probably right, Maya. That would certainly add some color to the dull walls. Maybe sometime you can help me pick some out.”
“That would be cool,” Maya said, crossing her skinny legs.
The room suddenly filled with silence. I started to feel a slight tension forming between Maya and myself. Finally, Maya spoke up. “My mom and I made up after you left.”
“That’s great, Maya.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We talked about the divorce, too.” A sad look appeared on Maya’s face. “I guess I just don’t understand why it had to happen to us. When I went to school in the Bay Area, I was always so proud because I was the only one whose parents weren’t divorced.”
“Divorce can happen to anyone, Maya. It’s not something that’s planned,” I said in a gentle voice.
“My grandma said only gringos got divorced,” Maya blurted out.
I had to smile at her. “Of course not. It even happens to people like me.”
Maya’s eyes widened and she looked at me in disbelief. “You were divorced, Ms. Martínez?”
“Yes, Maya. A long, long time ago.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. My mom never told me.”
“I was very young like your mom when I married for the first time, and, to make a long story short, it didn’t work out.” I hoped that I wasn’t sounding too flippant about the whole thing.
Maya was gazing out the window now. “I really miss my dad,” she whispered. “It’s so lonely without him.” A few tears started to roll down her cheeks, but she quickly brushed them away with the back of her hand.
“I know how much you must miss your dad. Has he come to visit you yet?”
“No, he hasn’t. And every time I call him, he says he’s very busy and doesn’t know when he can come see me. Sometimes I think he’s just making excuses, that he really doesn’t want to see me.”
Now the tears were streaming down Maya’s face. I reached over and handed her a Kleenex. “I’m sure your dad loves you, Maya. Divorce is a painful thing for everyone, and sometimes men have a more difficult time adjusting.”
“I don’t blame my dad,” Maya continued in a sad voice. “It’s all my mom’s fault anyway. Grandma thinks so, too.”
“And why do you feel it’s all your mom’s fault?” I asked, remembering my own mother’s reaction when I had finally left Raúl.
“Mom’s the one who kicked him out. She’s the one who told him to leave. I heard her tell him that night.”
“I see. Have you asked your mom about this? Have you asked her to explain why she asked him to leave?”
“No, I guess not,” Maya answered, frowning. “We talked about the divorce a little, but not about why she told him to leave. But Grandma said it was Mom’s fault. She said if my mom hadn’t been so busy getting an education, she wouldn’t have ignored my dad and maybe he wouldn’t have left.”
This all sounded so familiar. I felt as if I were hearing my mother’s own voice from years back: “Sandra, why do you have to get a Ph.D.? Why can’t you just be satisfied with being married and having kids?” Poor Sonia. I knew exactly how she was feeling. All that guilt. Why was it that women in Mexican and Chicano cultures were not supposed to have a profession? I only hoped Maya was smart enough to reject all these old-fashioned beliefs.
Maya was staring at me, waiting for my response. “Maya,” I began slowly. “Don’t you think you need to give your mom a chance to explain? After all, it takes two people to make or break a relationship. Aren’t you proud of your mom for getting an education?“
“Yeah, I guess so. I just feel so confused that I don’t know what to think anymore.” Maya’s eyes were filling with tears again, and I reached over and patted her hand. “But last night we talked. I told her how lonely I’ve felt ever since Dad left, how I hate coming home.”
“And what did your mom say?”
“She told me she felt lonely, too. That surprised me a lot. I thought she was happy Dad left.”
“I think your mom is probably just as broken up inside as you are, Maya,” I said reassuringly.
“That’s exactly how I feel, Ms. Martínez. All broken up into little pieces.”
Maya was crying again. I handed her some more Kleenex and waited for her to calm down. After a few minutes, I spoke to her. “Things will get better, Maya. Trust me. The important thing is that you’ve taken the first step and you’re talking about your feelings and not keeping them all bottled up inside.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Maya said, revealing a faint smile. “I already feel better just talking to you, Ms. Martínez.”
“I’m glad. And I know there are many people around you who love you and care about you-Juanita, your mom. And give your dad some time to adjust. He’ll come around. Don’t close the door on him. Keep calling him, and before long he’ll be able to talk with you about everything.”
There was a glimmer of hope in Maya’s eyes. “You really think so, Ms. Martínez?”
“Yes, I do. Just be patient. And now it’s time for my next appointment. How about if we meet at this same time next week?”
“Sure, Ms. Martínez. I’d really like that,” Maya answered hopefully.
When I said goodbye to Maya at the door, I noticed that her eyes were shining again and she seemed more at ease. I couldn’t help but feel pleased with myself. It would take some time and hard work, but Maya would survive. So would Sonia. After all, weren’t women of color the greatest survivors?