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I exhale, changing the subject, “Wanna help me do some work on the farm?"
Jonny nods. "What's a narcissist?"
Frozen, I try to think of how to answer that question. I don’t want to badmouth his mother to him, but he’s gotta know the truth, too. I want him to make his own decisions about her as he grows up. His experience with Shelby will be very different from mine. Still, should I arm him with knowledge? How do I do that, delicately? All of this is spinning through my head until I settle on the truth: “I’m just learning that myself."
With the tentativeness of someone who knows they overheard a conversation they weren't meant to, Jonny confesses, “You called Mom a narcissist when you were arguing."
That was a couple of weeks ago and he's held onto it for this long. After a few moments, I explain, "A narcissist is someone who has an unhealthy viewpoint of their importance in the world."
"Isn't everyone important?"
The innocence of the question, the kindness of it, hits me. One thing our son always is, is kind. He was born that way. He's so conscientious of living things he even take spiders outside rather than killing them. No matter how dangerous they may look, he always calls them Little Buddy and transports them by way of his hands or something safer, like Tupperware, depending on the arachnid. I don't want him to ever lose that innocence, so I affirm, “Everybody is important. Very important. That’s the problem. A narcissist tends to think they are the most important, even at the detriment of the needs of others."
Jonny thinks about it. "Is Mom a narcissist?"
"I can't diagnose her."
"Diagnose?"
"It can be considered a mental illness. Personally, I believe it's a learned habit. But I’m not a doctor. When you live without considering the needs of others for long enough, you harden. You don’t think about other people anymore. It’s all about you. But Jonny, the more energy you put into something, the more it grows. Even the bad stuff. Even selfishness."
"Do you think Mom is selfish?"
I think she is the most selfish person I have ever met in my entire life. "I think she could do more for others."
With a kid’s distracted stare he nods. "Like waking up to take me to school?"
"That really bother you?”
He shrugs. "A little."
Relieved he's talking to me about this and not holding it inside, I ask, “What is it about it that bothers you? You want to spend more time with her?"
"It feels like she doesn't care." He meets my eyes.
I don't know if she does, but I tell him for his own self-confidence, “She does care about you.”
“It doesn't feel like she does, Dad. I looked up narcissist and it seems like Mom might be one. And I don't know what to do about that. I want to help her."
I have been holding my fork like in a vice, I realize now, as I set it down. "How would you feel about talking to somebody who knows about these things?"
"A therapist?"
"Yeah. I was thinking maybe…well…how would you feel about that?"
"What are we gonna do on the farm today?"
My jaw clenches, mind racing to figure out a way to keep this conversation open. Having no tools I come right out with it. "I was thinking about making you an appointment. I would go with you, but I wouldn't go in the room.”
“Why don’t you want to go in?”
“I’d want you to have a safe place to talk about anything you want to.”
“I wouldn’t be talking about you, Dad.”
Walking around the island, I pull him into my arms, and kiss his head. He hugs me as I say, “I love you, Jonny. I wish this was easier on you. I wish I knew how to make it easier.”
“Do you want me to go?”
