The psychologist’s office smelled like old books and peppermint candy. A geranium sat on the windowsill in a cracked pot, and on the wall hung a faded poster of a smiling family. Mother, father, two children.
Everyone smiling. Marina looked at that poster and thought it felt like a joke. Behind the desk sat an older woman with tired eyes and gray hair twisted into a loose bun.
The nameplate read: “Nina Sokolov, PhD, Clinical Psychologist.” Marina suddenly had the sense that those eyes had seen hundreds of stories like this. Maybe thousands.
And oddly enough, that was comforting. Eleanor walked in first without waiting to be invited. She was already in character.
The worried grandmother, worn down with concern for her grandson. She started talking before she even sat down, describing sleepless nights, her fears, all the ways she had tried to help her daughter-in-law only to be pushed away. “I’ll ask the questions, and you’ll answer briefly,” Dr. Sokolov said without looking up from her papers.
Her voice was flat, almost bored. Eleanor stopped mid-sentence and sat down so abruptly it was as if someone had shoved her. Marina told her story without tears and without hysteria.
She had learned that over the last two months. Facts only. Just the facts.
Nothing extra. She played the recordings on her phone, and Dr. Sokolov listened in silence, occasionally nodding, occasionally making notes in a worn notebook. “It’s all staged,” Eleanor cut in.
“She provoked us on purpose so she could record it.” Dr. Sokolov raised one hand, and Eleanor fell silent. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed.
Kyle sat between his mother and his wife, hunched over in his chair. He looked at no one, studying his hands as if he had never seen them before. Mikey slept in his carrier at Marina’s feet, and his soft breathing was the only peaceful sound in the room.
“Mr. Bennett,” the psychologist said to him, “do you believe your wife is capable of caring for your child?” Kyle opened his mouth, then closed it.
His eyes darted to his mother. Quick, almost invisible, but Marina saw it. And Dr. Sokolov saw it too.
“Well, she tries,” he began uncertainly. “But Mom says—” “I’m asking what you think,” the psychologist interrupted.
“Not what your mother thinks. What do you think?” Kyle looked at Eleanor again. She gave the slightest shake of her head.
Dr. Sokolov watched the exchange with the cool interest of a scientist observing something under glass. Then she removed her glasses, wiped them on her sweater, and put them back on. “Mr. Bennett, can you answer my question without looking at Eleanor?”..
