Daughters - Rebecca Ch. 01

Daughters Of The American Evolution - Rebecca, Ch. 01

Stories from one front of the global war.

"Amy, do you ever have...problems, with Karen? You know, getting in with a bad crowd, or the wrong kind of boyfriend - that kind of thing?" Rebecca picked up her glass of chablis, her hand shaking slightly. She nervously brushed back her short pixie cut black hair from her forehead.

Amy noticed Rebecca's worried expression, and her physical upset. She touched Rebecca's arm sympathetically.

"Is Lauren in trouble?" she asked, her forehead furrowed, blonde bangs bouncing slightly. "She's such a sweet girl, I'd have trouble visualizing that," she said.

"Well....she has a new boyfriend, and frankly, he gives off a bad vibe, at least to me. I've tried talking to her about it, but she won't listen. She's 'in love.' You know how girls are at eighteen." Rebecca's expression had lost none of its worry.

Amy snorted. "Do I ever! I went through something similar last year, when Karen was Lauren's age." She paused. "There are...ways, ways to take her mind off outside influences that you don't approve of - we found one, and we're both really happy with the results. But it takes dedication, it's not a 'black box' solution."

"'Black box'?" Rebecca asked.

"Well, you have to work with your daughter. Today's environment where every individual is isolated from every other - have you heard of groups of kids going out together, and they all sit there texting each other? I mean..."

"Yes!" Rebecca exclaimed. "I've seen Lauren do that with her old set of friends - I thought it was so weird."

"I'll admit we're probably out of it - I'm not telling tales out of school, but I'm 39 and holding, so..."

Rebecca laughed. "Honey, I started 'holding' years ago. So, tell me more about what you and Mike did..."

Amy's face showed no reaction at the mention of her husband. "Mike? Actually, I handled it by myself. I can't reveal the methods, I was asked to sign an agreement. But I CAN tell you where we went, and where we got guidance that I personally believe to be excellent, and that I KNOW solved our interaction problems. And I can guarantee that Karen would agree wholeheartedly. Where before we were going in two different directions, now we do virtually everything together."

"Yes, I want to know! What's the secret? How much does it cost?" Rebecca's face and tone reflected her anxiety.

"Now, see, you're looking for a 'black box,'" Amy pointed out to her life long friend and neighbor.

Their families were nearly identical in makeup, both upper middle class, white suburban Dublin, Ohio families, Rebecca's husband Sam and Amy's husband Mike were in similar lines of work, the families were blessed with a daughter each, and the girls, like the mothers, were about the same ages. Naturally, the two women would often compare how each family was doing, since they were so similar.

"You want to know, 'how much can I pay and get this fixed,'" Amy continued.

"It's more than that...anyway, the group we went to is called 'Family Interactions Therapists', or FIT. I really encourage you to check them out....and if you do, I want to hear ALL about it." She wrote down the web site address for Rebecca, and gave her friend a warm smile, then patted Rebecca's knee.

"Look, I've got to go," Amy concluded. "Karen and I are going shopping - for some 'intimate underthings' for her - can you believe it? Before, she'd never have asked for my help, and frankly, I'd have been too embarrassed to talk about it. But now.....we're at least best friends!" Amy's smile was radiant. Rebecca was impressed.

"I'll check it out," she promised. "Thank you SO much for your help!"

"Think nothing of it," Amy said. "I only hope it can do for you and Lauren, what it did for our family, Karen and I." The two women hugged, and as Amy drove off, Rebecca rushed to the family computer. Entering the URL for FIT that Amy had given her, Rebecca looked the site over.

"Hmm, it doesn't really give many clues to what they do," she mused to herself. "But all the mothers and daughters....they look happy."" She was referring to the numerous pictures of mother and daughter couples, and other groupings of females, what looked like sisters, in all sorts of everyday situations, almost always smiling, but even more importantly, looking at each other, and talking to each other.

Rebecca certainly didn't miss that particular point of the computer presentation. "I miss talking to Lauren," she said out loud, looking around as though someone might have overheard her, and giggling at her action. "Silly me," she said, shaking her head.

She clicked on the 'Contact Us for Further Information' button, submitting her email address. Then a thought occurred to her. "Google!" she said. "I'd better google them to see if there's any complaints." She did the search, entering the group's name. Only a few links came up, and none of them seemed to actually be concerned with this particular group, other than the link that Amy had given to her. That seemed odd, but Rebecca dismissed any concerns.

She went to finish up the breakfast dishes, putting them in the dishwasher, then came back and checked her email, and found a reply from the group, with a phone number and an address in Columbus, near her town of Dublin. She called the number, and it was answered by a pleasant-sounding female voice.

The woman informed her that there would be an initial interview, and that it might require all day. The woman then asked for some basic information, ie, name address, and other 'non-confidential' data.

"Do you want me to bring my daughter?" Rebecca asked. "I mean, it's about us, not just me," she said, uncertain now that she was making the correct choice. Still, Amy had been high on the group....

"You are absolutely correct that the process is about 'us,' and not just 'you' or 'her,' the woman smoothly assured her. "But in order for our system to be successful, the mother must buy into it one hundred percent first. While I hope that you will certainly be evaluating us, we will also be evaluating you, as to whether we are willing to accept you as a client."

"Oh," Rebecca said, nonplussed. "Well, that makes pretty good sense," she thought. After thinking about it a minute, she decided to go ahead with an appointment.

A week later she found herself at the door of a small, beautifully restored twostory house in the German Village section of Columbus. The door was an arched design of spanish cedar, with a top three quarters of clear glass, with an etched design that looked like silhouettes of women at play and at rest, and side lights wider than any she'd ever seen before. The net effect was of an open, airy and light entrance to the house, with a beautifully wrought door floating ethereally in its center.

"Can this be right?" she thought to herself, then saw the small brass plaque by the door, advertising it as 'Family Interactions Therapists, Inc.'' She rang the button, tuned, musical bells signaling her presence to those inside. In a moment, a young woman of about twenty opened the door, smiling at Rebecca as she did so.

"You must be Mrs. Harrison," she said. "Please, come in." She stood aside as Rebecca entered. Rebecca was immediately impressed by the interior. A limestone entryway gave way after five feet, to a warmly finished and gleaming oak floor, with small, exquisite throw rugs artfully placed. Themed art hung on the wall of the wide entry, and on into the building, showing works of classical art featuring women and girls, alone and in couples.

"My name is Julia, I'm the receptionist here. Oh, and welcome to FIT!"" The girl's youthful enthusiasm seemed a sweet counter point to the elegance of the offices.

"Thank you. This is so beautiful," Rebecca breathed. "But your services MUST be very expensive..." she said, doubt creeping in. She would do anything to restore her relationship with Lauren, but there were limits to how much she could spend, even if the Harrisons were relatively affluent.

Julia laughed, a musical tinkle, charming and soft. "Oh, you may be surprised. I shouldn't tell you, but FIT has quite a large charitable foundation behind it." She led Rebecca upstairs, up a (naturally) beautiful staircase, and showed her into a small office on the second floor.

Surprisingly, there were no bookcases, file cabinets or other big pieces of office furniture, only a Louis XV bureau desk in the center of the room, and two chairs. The walls consisted of raised panel, lightly stained wainscoting, and six blank wall panels about two feet high by three feet wide. They were placed two per wall other than the entrance wall, set just above the wainscoting, slightly above her seated eye height, and alternating with more classical art on the same theme as those pictures downstairs.

"Mrs. Livingston will be right with you," she said, leading Rebecca to one of the two light colored Hancock & Moore leather chairs, opposite the bare desk.

"Would you like some wine, or juice, or flavored water?" Julia asked.

"Ohh, wine would be SO lovely, but I have to drive back through town, so perhaps some water?"

Julia nodded, then brought her a glass in a matter of seconds - apparently they had a galley kitchen on the second floor. Rebecca sat alone, sipping the pomegranate-tangerine infused water, barely noticing the softly piped in chamber music, but more noticeably, the blank wall panels slowly and subtly morphing into high definition videos of modern female couples, some apparently mothers and daughters, or at least older women with younger, and some of what appeared to be sisters, or at least women who greatly resembled each other.

Intrigued, Rebecca watched as a picture of a forty-something woman and a girl of perhaps twenty appeared, subtly forming over ten seconds or so from the blank white of the panel. The two attractive women were seated on a picnic blanket, garbed in spring dresses, on the bank of a slowly streaming river or creek, spring flowers vivid on the opposite bank. The two were smiling at each other, one, the younger, clearly speaking, the other nodding, as the younger woman's hand came up as though to touch the other's cheek, but the picture faded out to a blank white screen before they touched.

Clearly, the panels were showing short video clips, maybe thirty to forty seconds in length, not pictures. Rebecca thought that they must be extremely high quality monitors to so closely resemble blank white canvases, and from there to display such lifelike scenes, but obviously these people had resources!

The display that took its place, showed two women, both about twenty five, concluding a tennis match, both very feminine in appearance, with one wearing a classic tennis outfit of white cotton blouse with skirt, the other in a more boyish outfit of light blue knit shirt and shorts, approaching each other at the net, their faces coming together as if to kiss....but again, the picture faded out. Rebecca felt a shock, then a tingling in her stomach at the second video.

The videos continued, all showing women of various ages together in couples, all of them apparently happy, and most very attractive and sensual. It was occurring to Rebecca that this organization might not be as straightforward as she had expected. But, Amy had recommended them, and she trusted Amy. She'd known her since third grade, after all. And they had double dated often throughout high school.

One video showed two girls in bed, apparently just waking up. The two looked like sisters, one brown-haired, the other a dirty blonde, and they couldn't have been older than nineteen. The blonde gently touched her still sleeping sister, and as the dark haired girl opened her eyes, she smiled, and the blonde leaned over and kissed her, on the mouth! The dark haired girl returned the kiss, the two girls embracing, then the video faded out.

Rebecca found her heart beating rapidly at this clearly sensual depiction, and frankly, was considering getting up and leaving, when a door in the side of the room entered, and a well dressed woman of about fifty entered. "Mrs. Harrison, welcome to Family Interactions Therapists. I'm Sylvia Livingston, the director." She extended her hand, and Rebecca found her grip warm, but not overly familiar.

Glancing at a panel, Sylvia smile ruefully. "I see you've been watching our client display," she said.

"Ohh....I'd hardly noticed," Rebecca said, embarrassed.

"People sometimes find these short videos....well, perhaps exuberant, might be a good word. But it's only because our clients are really THAT happy. You see, what we do here at Family Interactions Therapists, or FIT, is to repair strained relationships between females in families."

"Our founder discovered long ago, that women care about their families - I know that's not news to you, every woman instinctively knows that - but the difference at FIT, is that we believe that ONLY women really care about their families. Effort directed toward the male in a family is wasted effort. So...we believe that repairing relationships between female members will be the most productive means of bringing ultimate happiness." She paused, smiled and looked at Rebecca.

"Oh my goodness, HOW can you say that?" Rebecca responded, indignant. ""Men care about their families!" She thought about her husband, Sam, who was in California that week on business.

"Well, think back to conflicts in families that you know about. Who created them, and who resolved them? I wouldn't say that men don't care, per se, but more often than not, they add little to a conflict's resolution, and quite a lot to its creation," Sylvia responded, her hands held up as if to say, 'it's a fact.'

"Perhaps we can agree to disagree," Rebecca said, not at all convinced. "But tell me how FIT brings women together." She was beginning to relax, and had forgotten her earlier qualms.

"Ahh, yes,"Sylvia smiled. "The rewarding means by which family problems become resolved!"

She directed Rebecca to one of the screens in particular. Rebecca didn't see Sylvia touch any controls, but unlike the pleasant scenes she had seen before, this one showed a group of three, a middle aged man and woman, and a teenaged girl, all arguing. The scene then morphed into one in which the woman and girl were seated, talking, each speaking in turn, the other listening. There was no sound, just the chamber music that had been playing all along, but which coincidentally seemed to reflect the mood of each scene as it appeared. At first, with the threesome pictured, it was stormy and angry.

Following videos showed the two women helping each other in their kitchen, then elsewhere in the house, even doing repair work together, almost always smiling as they worked cooperatively, helping each other. There was something that Rebecca couldn't quite place her finger on about the whole series of videos, but she dismissed the thought as the scenes progressed. Finally, the video showed the woman standing over the girl as she slept, leaning down and kissing her cheek, then beginning to disrobe. The music at this point was almost romantic, Rebecca thought.

The videos faded out, and the random selection of videos re-appeared.

"Now, Mrs. Harrison, I would like to put you in the hands of Emily, one of our counselors. She can show you some of the techniques we use to bring women family members together. Hopefully, you'll be impressed enough to sign up with us."

"Oh, that reminds me," Rebecca said. "Are your services expensive? Do you take insurance?" Her worry returned.

Sylvia smiled reassuringly. "Please don't worry yourself about that. We only take donations from our clients, there IS no charge. And so, obviously, you needn't worry about insurance. After your family relationship has been repaired, we'll ask you to donate what you believe our services to be worth. As Julia probably blurted out, we have a great deal of money that has been bequeathed to us."

Rebecca smiled. "Yes, she did say something about that." Sylvia shrugged, and smiled, then nodded.

"Julia is a very good associate. Very warm and giving. I've been working with her personally - she came from a bad family situation herself, which, thankfully, has been repaired. As a matter of fact, everyone working here has been a client first." Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, it's true," Sylvia laughed. "It certainly helps to keep salaries low!" She paused, then there came a soft knock on the door.

"Now, if you don't mind, I believe that will be Emily. She will, as I said, introduce you to some of our techniques, and she can certainly answer many questions as well as I can." Rebecca found herself without any questions, and shrugged to herself.

"I guess I can always ask later," she thought.

The door opened, and in walked a young girl of about eighteen. Rebecca was shocked, and almost blurted out, "Lauren?" The young girl looked very much like her daughter Lauren - same height, a coltish 5' 8", and slim; long, straight brown hair, small breasts, moderately full hips. But it was facially where Emily resembled Lauren even more strikingly..

Deep blue eyes, wide and innocent, small, perfectly formed nose, full, pink lips, even, white teeth. She even wore her hair at her face as Lauren did. The only difference Rebecca could see, was that this girl had a flawless complexion, where Lauren was lightly freckled over the bridge of her nose, and Lauren had a front incisor that was slightly chipped, a memento from a field hockey match, that Rebecca had been urging Lauren to get capped.

Lauren had resisted. "Mom, it makes me unique, not like all the barbie dolls at school." It had led to a few arguments, none serious.

Rebecca's attention returned to the girl in front of her.

"Hi, Mrs. Harrison - may I call you Rebecca? - I'm Emily." She held her hand out, and Rebecca shook it, finding the young girl's touch, well, oddly exciting. Rebecca barely noticed Sylvia leaving out the door through which Emily had entered.

Rebecca''s attention was almost completely taken up by the girl standing in front of her.

"That's odd," Rebecca thought vaguely. "I felt something electrical from your touch," she said to the appealing girl.

"The FIT program is partially based on touch," Emily said, smiling, her perfect teeth capturing the pink tip of her small tongue for a brief moment. "You know, when a mother and daughter, or two sisters - or really, almost any two females with a relationship - can get close enough to touch, they can get close enough to feel what the other is feeling. It's a very physical thing, leading to emotional. I don't know the science behind it, I'm just a 'toucher,' so to speak..."

Emily''s words were starting to turn into a pleasant drone for Rebecca. "I didn't realize I was this tired," she thought to herself, absently.

"Just sit back and watch this screen, okay Rebecca?" Emily said, her voice soft and soothing.

Rebecca obediently did as she was told, feeling a sense of impending excitement - where it was coming from, she had no idea. She watched the scenes unfolding on the screen, pastoral and softly lit scenes about thirty to forty seconds seconds long, like before, showing a miscellany of female couples - from middle age women, to young, teenaged girls, and everywhere in between, twenty-somethings, thirty-somethings, probably twenty women in all, in ten couples.

Emily stood behind Rebecca, and began lightly massaging her neck and shoulders. She was saying something about tension inhibiting their 'conversation', but Rebecca was only catching every other word, as she became absorbed in the videos and the massage.

At first, the women in the videos were talking to each other, reasonably, agreeably, often smiling - of course, Rebecca had no idea what they were talking about, as there was no sound to the videos, only the ever present soft chamber music wafting through the room.