What My Mother Needs

"Wow! That's gotta be special treatment!" I exclaimed.

"Miles, this case is completely unique, as far as I can tell. There is no standardized treatment plan to follow. We are going to have to find our way through to restoring your mother, and that requires the best and most complete information available, as well as serious and careful thought and consideration. We do not wish to make a mistake that your mother may have to live with for the rest of her life. Do you understand?"

Oh, shit, he was deadly serious. I shivered. "I don't think... I mean, I understood you, but why couldn't it be undone, changed, if I make a mistake?"

"Her brain and nervous system remain in a state of flux, of change, but some of those changes appear to be permanent. New connections are being made, and they appear to be related to the directions you gave your mother. We do not understand how this is happening, but it is so; we've watched it happening by MRI. We strongly suspect this is being caused, or facilitated by, whatever drugs your grandfather used."

I looked around carefully to make sure Mom wasn't there, and said, with heat, "That evil bastard!" My heart hurt.

"What we would like to try is to build on what you've already started when you told your mother to act as she did before in regard to your father. We'd like to have you tell your mother why she should behave in that manner. Once we see how she responds to that, we can build on it. This is one of the reasons why I'll need to see you once each week. As I said before, this will take time, but it is my hope that your mother's behavior can be returned fully to normal."

"What do I do?"

"Why don't you and I go have a talk in the conference room, just a few doors down, and we can go over what you should say to her tonight, okay? Your Dad can be here for your mother when she returns." Dad nodded.

"I thought you were done already? Where is Mom now?" I asked as I walked toward the door.

"She is on her way up. Transport is short-handed today, so things are running a bit longer than we'd like," Dr. Thompson said as we walked down the hall a few doors for patient rooms on the right to come to a single door on the left. The doctor opened the door and we went into a largish room with a conference table with lots of chairs around it where the nurses had their shift-change meetings.

Dr. Thompson sat down with a grunt, wiped his eyes, and then looked to me as I sat down across from him. He looked like it had been a very long day for him; actually, he looked fairly exhausted. He sighed, and said, "Miles, your mother is in a precarious place. Your grandfather has essentially scrambled parts of your mother's mind, and overwritten others." He paused and looked at me.

"Your grandfather's attempts to control your mother's mind have left a... weakness, shall we call it, allowing the instructions he imposed upon her to be modified, at least to an extent. We know this because your mother is using the instructions you gave her to 'get around' the instructions your grandfather imposed."

"Why would he leave a weakness like that?"

"We don't think, at least the police don't think, and I agree, that your grandfather didn't create what he used on your mother. There is no evidence showing the development, the process of inventing the things he used. I... suspect... that whoever created the setup your grandfather used had to make the results modifiable, so that the person it was used on could be 'customized' to fit the desires of the user."

He looked down, and then looked directly into my eyes at he said, "Your grandfather made your mother very open to incest."

"Sick bastard!" I spat.

Thompson gave a nod, then continued. "It looks like he wanted to make your mother his sex slave, given what I have learned from the police and from your mother. He could have made her do almost anything, given time. The incest appears to be a key part of the programming, from what the Bureau of Investigation has told me. I believe that your grandfather overlooked you as a potential source of competing instructions, and that gives us hope."

"You mean, she..." I broke off, with a wave of nausea as I worked through that to the understanding that my mother has been forced to be willing to have sex with me. It was appalling.

"...needs you to act as an authority for her," the doctor cut in. "You can tell her to modify her behavior, and, I hope, her mental processes to restore some, perhaps all, of her mental integrity. But you will have to be very careful in what you say to her. Especially at first, I would like you to only say things to her that we have discussed and decided might have a positive impact on her. I believe that being careless in talking to her, especially right now, can have very undesirable unintended consequences, okay?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I answered, trying to keep up with a conversation that was turning my world inside out.

"Very well," Dr. Henderson said. "I have some suggestions..." True to his word, he had a fairly short list of suggestions. We spent the next half hour or so discussing his list, trying to see any way in which each suggestion could be misinterpreted or misunderstood, and what the foreseeable consequences of each could be.

It was during this talk that it really came home to me how deeply damaged my mother had been, to require me, her 18-year-old son of all people, to help rebuild who she was. I suddenly realized why Dad looked as he did. He had to be exhausted and hurt in so many different ways, each its own hell. I was tired, but a lot younger than he, so all this had to be weighing on him terribly. That Grandad had tried to destroy the sacred bond that my father had with my mother, and almost succeeded, and now was only held together because his son told her what to do and how to feel -- that is just completely fucked up.

"I want her to love him like she always did," I told Dr. Thompson. "I want it to be real, to be restored, the real thing! I want everything he stole from her given back!"

Dr. Thompson looked at me. "That... is probably not possible. We can't just cut out the new nerves. We are trying to shape her behavior with these statements. Her feelings will take much, much longer to work out, and she cannot be the same, because of both the changes made and the horror at what has been done to her. She may not feel it now, but she will, and it will be a major undertaking to deal with."

Dr. Thompson sighed, and continued, "Do not misunderstand, Miles. We are extremely fortunate in discovering that your mother can listen to you and change her behavior, and this gives us a way to help her recover everything she can! If this wasn't the case, your mother would be forced into behaving only as your grandfather desired. There would be nothing we could do. By interrupting the process as you did, you gave her, and you can continue to give her, the chance to recover."

I nodded just as there was a knock at the door. A guy in scrubs stuck his head in and said, "She's back, doctor."

"Thank you," Dr. Thompson said as he stood, and I followed suit. He glanced at me. "Ready?"

"I guess so."

"Be firm, but kind. Do not show indecision or waver at all. Show approval when she behaves as you've told her to, and stick to the script, okay?"

"Got it," I agreed. "Okay."

We went into Mom's hospital room, where she and Dad were holding hands and talking. Mom was smiling at Dad and talking to him just like she always had, with a lot of love. Dad was returning her look in equal measure, and looked so much less tired than he had seemed earlier.

Mom looked to me and smiled more broadly and proudly as we came into the room. I smiled and nodded encouragingly back at her, taking in the scene of the two of them together again. It was the thing that I most wanted in the world, them to be happy together again, showing their love for each other. Weird how something that used to be so embarrassing to a person could be what they most desire when it's gone, isn't it?

"Well, Andy, I think you and I should go for a walk, and let Miles and Melina have their talk, now. OK?" suggested Dr. Thompson.

Dad nodded, kissed Mom on the cheek, and said, "We'll be back soon, love."

Mom smiled at him in acknowledgment and kissed him back, then said, "We'll be here!" Just like old times.

The two of them left, closing the door behind them.

"I'm to tell you some things that are supposed to help you get back to normal, Mom. Are you ready?"

Mom gathered herself, and then nodded.

"Mom, you love Andy."

Mom tensed, then took a breath, relaxed, and nodded to me.

"Any negative feelings about Andy are not really yours, and you will not communicate them to Andy in any way. You will reject those negative feelings as not being your true feelings for Andy."

Mom tensed, and stayed tense for a longer time, and she took another deep breath and tried to relax, wasn't able to do so, and was only able to relax after trying several times. Finally, she nodded again.

"That... is difficult, Miles. I know those feelings aren't real, and aren't really mine, but I'm still feeling them."

"Hmm. Perhaps you should talk with Dr. Thompson about your feelings. Perhaps he can help. He did say it was going to take time and a lot of hard work and therapy."

Mom stiffened again, then took another deep breath and relaxed, then said "I will talk to Dr. Thompson about my feelings."

I was confused. I had intended that she consider the matter with the doctor, but she acted like the suggestion had done something inside her head like the statement I'd been told to make. Was something being rewritten inside her mind every time I said anything? Holy shit! I'd better stick with the script! No wonder Dr. Thompson said I had to be careful!

"The doctor told me that all the negative things you feel about Dad came from what Grandad did to you, that what you feel for Dad is what you should feel about Grandad and what he did."

"I know, Miles. Andy is completely innocent. I do know. I'm trying. It's already easier to be with him, so maybe this is working? We have to keep trying," Mom assured me.

"Okay, Mom," I said, "Next is: you love your home and family."

Mom didn't seem to have trouble with that one at all. Hmm.

"Andy and I are your only family, now."

Mom gasped and locked up in complete rigidity, every muscle tensed, except her mouth, which was hanging open like she'd lost all feedback from her jaw and face. Tears flowed down her face, which was screwed up into a rictus of emotional pain. Holy shit holy shit, holy shit!

"Stop! Listen to me and focus on my voice, Mom. Calm down. Relax. You are safe," I cried in alarm, then moderated my voice. "I love you, Mom. Your husband Andy and I are your only family, now."

Again, Mom stiffened and grimaced, and tears flowed again, but it wasn't as strong a reaction as before.

"Good, Mom! Breathe, relax, and accept it. I know it's upsetting, but it is true. Just breathe, relax, and let it be. Good, Mom, you are doing so well! Let's try again. Your husband Andy and I are your only family now."

Mom didn't stiffen or grimace, but a few tears did slide down her cheek. She nodded to me to go on, so I did.

"You are doing so well, Mom!" I encouraged, then looked down at the list again. "You remember all the ways in which you acted and behaved in the last two years, and you will use those memories as a guide for your behavior in appropriate situations now and in the future." Whew! That was a mouthful!

Mom nodded and smiled. "That one was easy! I guess what you said yesterday made it that way?" she said, thoughtfully, her voice ending in a question.

"Um, Dr. Thompson said I should be careful in what I say to you right now, so I'm supposed to stick to the list. I can say 'I love you,' and 'I'm proud of you,' though."

Mom blushed, and looked down. "Thank you, Miles. That means so very much to me. I feel like such a burden, and I'm so sorry that I am!"

"Mom, Da... er, Andy and I love you. We all go through things, and it's important that we support each other through then. So, I mean, we can't begrudge people their being human and having to adapt to life's challenges, can we? I mean, we can support their choices and actions if they aren't harmful! If they are, well..." Crap! I should have stuck with the list! I was thinking of Mom and how her behavior had hurt Dad. "... sometimes a person may have reasons others may not be aware of, so we try to be understanding. We cannot approve of the actions, but can forgive them once we understand why. Does that make sense?"

Mom nodded. "You're talking about me, and what I did, right?"

"Yes, but more than that. People are people. No one is perfect. We just have to get along together," I answered. "Things getting back to normal is part of that. It's how we, our family, get along together best." Whew! I had managed to bring the wandering statement to a logical conclusion that felt right. God, I hoped I hadn't screwed anything up by going off-script! I resisted the urge to hit my head for being stupid.

Mom nodded, and said, gravely, "I know. Thank you, son. I really appreciate your being willing to help. This whole thing has been terrifying, and you have... sheltered me, kept me safe and, I think, sane. You saved me. You are my hero, Miles."

"Aw, Mom, of course! I'd do anything for you! You're my Mom!"

Mom seemed to shiver a bit, then smiled at me, then got up and ruffled my hair like she had millions of times before. "Shall we let the gentlemen come back in?"

I smiled back and nodded, "Let's." I opened the door and glanced out. Dad and Dr. Thompson were standing down the hall by the door to the conference room, and they turned at the sound of Mom's door opening. When I smiled, they headed down the hall, smiling back, looking more relaxed.

"Looks like there weren't any difficulties," Dr. Thompson said as he came in the room.

"No, everything seemed to go really well," I told him. "She seemed to have the most trouble with the one about Dad and me being her 'only family' like you thought she might, but she relaxed and breathed through it."

"Excellent!" said the doctor. "No other issues?"

"No. Mom thanked me for saving her, though."

"Did you?" Dr. Thompson asked, pleased, turning to Mom. "Why?"

Mom shrugged. "He saved me, but now I feel like a burden," she said, simply.

"And what did you tell her, Miles?" he asked, turning to me. I gave him a summary of what I'd said, and he asked, "And how did she react?"

"Perfectly fine," I answered. "She said what I'd said earlier must have made it easier."

"I thought it might. That is why you must be extremely careful in what you tell her. We are helping her to rebuild herself when you... tell her how to behave. And you are finding all this easier, now?" he asked as he turned to Mom.

"Yes, definitely," Mom answered. She smiled at Dad lovingly, and then with a "See?" expression at the doctor, who nodded.

"Excellent! I was concerned that we would not be this far along at this point!" Dr. Thompson said. "When does Miles return to college?"

"His classes start next week," Dad said, and I nodded.

"I have a fair number of Monday/Wednesday/Friday classed, but just one Tuesday/Thursday class from 10:00 to 11:00 AM."

"Good. Perhaps we can schedule your appointments on Thursday afternoons, so that we can fine-tune things with your mother, as we discover the need. What do you think?"

"I can usually get Thursday afternoons off from work, I think," Dad said, agreeing.

"Sounds good to me!" I smiled and nodded.

"Good! We want to run the same series of tests that we ran today again in a day or so, to see what has changed. We'd like to keep Melina for another few days to continue our observation, but after running the tests again I think she can go home. This development is quite promising!"

He looked at me carefully again and said, "Miles, you must be very careful about everything you say to your mother. I can't tell you this too often, okay? It could be very easy to say the wrong thing accidentally and cause irreparable harm to her. Do you understand?"

"I do. Should I stay home tomorrow so I don't make such a mistake?" I replied, not mentioning I'd already mucked that up. I resolved not to do it again, hoping I hadn't done any damage.

"That might be a good idea," Dr. Thompson answered, and Dad nodded agreement more slowly. Mom looked sad, but nodded reluctantly as well.

"Just as well. I've got so much stuff to do to get ready to go back," I said. We all spent the rest of the conversation telling Mom how well she was doing. Dr. Thompson gave some good specifics of how she had improved and made good choices that might have turned out much worse. Dad and I told her we love her and wanted the best for her, at which point she teared up, and told us she loved us, too.

When Dad and I left that evening, it was in a much better mood, and we were both more hopeful than fearful of how everything would turn out. The next day I spent packing and registering my class schedule. In talking with a classmate by text message, I discovered that my desired-for love-interest, Belinda, would not be returning next semester, but the classmate didn't know why. I sighed. I just hadn't moved fast enough, I guess.

After that, I worked on cleaning the house, the condition of which had slipped a bit with all the excitement. When Dad came home, he seemed to be more relaxed and happy than I had seen him in the last few weeks. Things were going well!

"Your mother kissed me after you left," Dad beamed, radiating a deep joy. "Not just a peck on the cheek or even just a chaste kiss on the lips, but a real kiss, like she hasn't kissed me in... longer than I care to remember. Miles, she's in there, tonight, when I looked in her eyes, I saw her, smiling at me like always... before. She isn't lost. She's coming back!"

Something got in my eyes just then. It couldn't have been that my heart was bursting with joy and happiness and love for my parents. Dad hugged me, and I hugged him back. We stood like that for a minute, just sharing in the good fortune and relief from fear.

"Anything I can do to help, Dad."

"Thank you, Miles."

"And Dad... I've been really, truly, and deeply angry with Grandad. I mean, to the level of hatred and rage. I don't know what to do with it. I mean, he's dead, I killed him, and it isn't enough for what he did to Mom, and what he almost did to her is so much worse!"

Dad sighed. "I know, son. I am as well, and I know exactly how you feel. That is one of the things that Dr. Thompson is going to help all of us with, I hope! That's part of the plan anyway. We just can't talk about your grandfather where your mother can hear or see, got it? Something about what he did has made that very painful for her. It's like stabbing her in the heart when we say anything at all negative about him."

"You said something about that earlier. Mom actually tried to attack you?" I probed.

"She did. It took twenty minutes or so to calm her down when I told her I wanted to kill her father myself for what he'd done to her. She... had to be restrained by Dr. Thompson, whom she did not attack even as he prevented her from scratching my eyes out. She flew at me with such hatred!"

"Jesus, Dad! No wonder you're worried about saying anything about Grandad!" I paused. "But she seems much better, now."

"Dr. Thompson thinks she has been hardwired to attack anyone who showed signs of danger to her father. He says that some of the older 'new' neural tracts appear to bypass even her sense of self, but cause a violent response to any percieved threat against her father, and probably more."