He paid no attention to my request. "Tell me about how he died, Sarah Jeanne."
"A cop came to my door and said Doug ran off the road and hit a tree. He asked me if I might know the young lady who was killed with him. She carried no identification. I suggested if he show her picture in all the whore houses around town someone would probably recognize her."
"Ah, hostility. I detect a lot of hatred, Sarah Jeanne."
"No, Doctor. Hate is an emotion and I'll not grant the bastard that much passion. I've totally dismissed him from my mind. I have far more important matters to concentrate on than Doug Jacobson." My tone was enough for him to back off.
Our session was nearing an end when Dr. Mason asked me about my father's death. His question surprised me but I found myself wanting to discuss the event I'd tried to keep from my memory all the years since his passing.
"It was the worst day of my life," I answered.
He raised an eyebrow. "Even worse than when your husband died?"
Didn't he listen when I told him about Doug's death? "Not even close," I answered instead.
"Why was your father's death so traumatic?"
I answered without hesitation. "Because of the changes it wrought in my life."
I caught him glancing at his watch, much to my annoyance. "Your husband being killed suddenly must have been devastating."
"Let's stay on track here. You asked about my father's death, not Doug's."
He smiled at my snippiness. "Ah ha. Very well. But I'm afraid it will have to wait until next time. I sense that there's ammunition here and you're willing to discuss the subject. We'll put your father's death on hold for a later topic but maybe we'll add the matter of your husband's death as well."
"Doug's death has nothing to do with my feelings about my mother and if you remember, that's why I'm here. I don't want to spend good money discussing my dead bastard husband Doug. And don't 'ah-ha' me, I mean it."
The good doctor rose, signaling the end of our session. "So be it, but I do detect a hint of an animosity in your tone, but you're the boss."
I gave Dr. Mason my best smile. "You better believe it. Not on my dime. Case closed, and buried, six feet under the Alaska snow."
Over the next week I thought a lot about that day my father left this earth and my world came crashing down on my teenage head. I didn't need a degree in psychiatry to know it was the beginning of my problems and the initial reason for my estrangement from my mother. However, I was far from ready to address the incident.