Page 92 of For Butter or Worse
“I am,” he said. Though he wasn’t sure he was.
“Hello,” Donna said as she came in the room. “This is all very strange for me. I hope you understand?”
“Of course.” Meredith motioned for Donna to sit. “Is this your first time speaking to a therapist?”
“Yes, unless you count Leonardo.” Donna smiled at him.
He smiled back. He was nervous that in being honest with his mother, he might accidentally hurt her—something he actively tried to avoid.
“Where would you like to start?” Meredith asked him.
But before he could answer, Donna piped up. “What is it? Just tell me. Are you dying?”
“No, Ma—” He tried to assuage her.
“Do you have a secret love child?” He sensed the dread in her voice. Not that he’d have a child, but that he was hiding something from her. Which, he was.
“No.” He laughed a bit, he couldn’t help it.
“What is it? Tell me what’s so wrong that you’d bring me here to this room with a stranger.”
“Leo, are you ready to tell your mom why you wanted her to come?” Meredith asked, trying to guide him.
He blinked. He’d brought Donna here, and he owed her an explanation. “Ma, I asked you to come here so we could talk about my anxiety.”
“The panic attacks, yes?”
“Yes, those, and more,” he hedged.
“I’m listening.” She sat forward, elbows on her knees, and looked at him so intensely he felt as if he was half his height and in a time-out chair.
He’d avoided the subject of his mental health to spare his mom’s feelings. But in doing so, he may have hurt her more by keeping this from her. He just hoped she’d understand.
“When Dad died, I felt like I had to take over for him.” Leo exhaled. This wasn’t going to be an easy discussion. “Not just handling the business, but being the glue holding all of us together. Dad was our rock. And he’d always told me that since I was the oldest, I had to take care of Gavin. And I’ve done that. But I stopped making time to take care of myself. And I decided that to be like him, I had to do as much as possible. I tried to stay busy so I wouldn’t have to think about losing Dad. Or how sad you seemed.”
“We were all sad, Leonardo.”
“Of course,” he said. “I know that.”
“We all had to take care of each other,” his mom added.
“Let’s try to remember that Leo is here to talk about the present,” Meredith reminded them.
“Come ti pare,” Donna said, sounding irritated.
But Leo had to keep pushing through the conversation if he ever wanted to change things. So he did. “Ma, the thing is that I tried not to show how sad I was about Dad. I buried myself in work to try to hide my emotions. And because of that, I’ve had a lot of anxiety just building up.”
“And that is why you have the panic attacks?” his mom asked, genuinely curious.
“That’s part of what causes them. And I’ve been taking on too much at work—trying to save the business we’ve built.”
Donna leaned back into her chair. She crossed her legs and smoothed out the skirt of her dress. “When you were little, your dad always called you The Thinker,” she said. “You’d watch a movie, or read a book with a sad ending, and you would be thinking about it for weeks. Sometimes months, in the case ofBambi.”
“His mom died, right in front of him,” Leo said defensively. “How could they do that?”
“You have always felt deeply and with your whole heart,” she continued. “I’m so sorry you’ve been grieving your father’s loss alone. I should’ve checked in with you more.”
“You were handling your own grief, Donna,” Meredith offered. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was to process your husband’s death and remain strong for your sons.”
