2006- Exposure

"Beverly, you've spoken about being exposed to violence and abuse in your childhood..."

Beverly stares her down, she's not paying $200 an hour for ellipses.

"But," Dr. Allens-Ferrin belatedly continues, "you've never spoken about your personal... experiences."

Watching the woman falter fills Beverly with disgust. Allens-Ferrin has lasted longer than any of her previous therapists, but she's on shaky ground at the moment.

"Beverly," the woman begins, leaning forward in her seat, "were you abused as child? As a young woman?"

The use of her first name, the body language, the way Allens-Ferrin looks over the rim of her glasses; it's meant to create a feeling of intimacy and Beverly has to fight her instinct to cross her arms and create a physical barrier between herself and her therapist. She suddenly feels physically drained from the effort of not being a cliché.

"I was perhaps disciplined in a way that would be considered abusive by modern standards but was well within the norm of the time."

"I think you know that isn't what I mean."

"Perhaps you should speak more clearly, then."

The hostility hangs in the air between them but, to her credit, the therapist presses on.

"Were you ever abused by either your parents or one of your mother's 'friends'?"

"I have no memory of abuse."

"But you were always afraid..."

"I suppose you could view the environment as having an element of psychological abuse in that I..."

"Do you think you may have repressed memories of..."

"Does it matter?" Beverly's voice sounds disproportionately loud. She takes a deep breath before continuing is a more measured tone, "If I don't remember it, why does it matter? The sudden popularity of so-called repressed memories is a scourge on our field. Therapists all over the world are convincing their patients they've been subjected to elaborate satanic rituals and horrific sexual abuse..."

"It does matter if someone harmed you, Beverly. It matters because you are person with feelings. You have value," Allens-Ferrin has moved out of her paint-by-numbers professional style and Beverly is caught off guard. This woman is really good. Beverly files the interaction away to use in her own sessions in order to shock a patient out of a pre-established narrative...

"Beverly, it isn't a weakness to have feelings."

Beverly feels soothed by the return to cliché. She isn't in therapy because she wants to dredge through the swamp of her past and find long buried bodies best forgotten. She's in therapy so her children will stop having a collective nervous breakdown every time she publishes a paper.

She managed to cobble together a manuscript that all three of her children found upsetting but not horrifying. She has found therapy helpful throughout the process. Beverly has never been interested in resolving her internal conflicts, she simply needs someone to listen without judgment. Her sense of self has been subtly altered through these interactions. She has come to realize, there are parts of herself to which she prefers to remain estranged. She does not want to dig through her psyche and she is not looking for any kind of grand answers about the meaning of life.

2011- Acumen

Beverly agrees to attend yet another fund raiser for the university. Her reputation brings more money into the department than any other resource. She is not a fan of shaking hands but she does enjoy discussing her work with neophytes. Breaking the information down so as to be clear to someone who just managed to graduate with the help of someone else's money gave her a chance to reflect on her work from another angle.

The first donor delivered to Beverly's corner, like a parade float awaiting judgment, is a woman by the name of Lathum. Beverly knows the type. They have a name for these women now, cougars. Beverly was raised by a cougar.

Right away, Mrs. Lathum makes it clear she is asserting her dominance by bullying the young and easily intimidated while sizing up every young man in the room.

She follows Lathum's eyes to a man who couldn't be more than thirty. He's probably younger than the woman with whom Edwin had his affair. He is handsome and his work is well-reasoned if uninspired. Beverly tries to imagine him as a bus boy. Perhaps Mrs. Lathum is on to something.

"Hofstadter... Where have I heard that name before?" Mrs. Lathum is snapping her fingers as though to jog her memory. The obvious answer would be Mrs. Lathum knows the name because Beverly is extremely well-known. She has been published in fifty-two languages and she has been profiled in numerous mainstream magazines such as Life and People.

She was even on Oprah.

Perhaps Lathum is thinking of Edwin Hofstadter, he has been on the Discovery Channel.

"Leonard Hofstadter! A beautiful young genius. So eager to please, if you know what I mean."

Mrs. Lathum elbows Beverly as if to affirm their status as sister cougars.

"Am I to understand the two of you engaged in sexual intercourse?"

For someone who claims to have no luck with women, Leonard certainly seems to get around. She's had similar discussions with a brilliant physicist at Princeton and Cassandra's colleague at John Hopkins.

The woman tossed her head back as she laughed. Beverly could see a vague physical similarity between herself and this woman and they aren't far apart in age. Leonard never seemed to go through an Oedipal stage, perhaps he was having a delayed crisis.

"Tell me, how did his penis turn out?"

Beverly felt a moment of smugness as Mrs. Lathum, the wealthiest widow in Upstate New York, stammered and flushed.

The woman regains her composure and looks Beverly in the eye.

"Magnificent. I'm definitely going to donate to your department, Dr. Hofstadter. There's no questioning your contribution to society."

Beverly grudgingly clinks her water glass to Lathum's champagne flute. After all these years, it's nice to have a straight answer. A mother worries.

Also in attendance at the fund raiser is one Dr. Julian Smith-Huntley, author of possibly the most comprehensive book on Jungian theory to date. Beverly is hardly a Jungian but she was impressed by the thorough and well-written tome and takes a moment to acknowledge his work. He greets her impassive compliment with a broad grin that causes his eyes to crinkle in a manner she finds... charming. His face is youthful and boyish but his crow's feet suggest he's in his forties.

"Dr. Beverly Hofstadter! I've read every paper you've ever published! You are a genius."

She doesn't care for shaking hands but she allows him to shake her's vigorously.

"I strive to serve my field," is her standard reply. She refuses to engage in false modesty but has found honesty too often confused with arrogance.

"I'd love to discuss your work with trauma victims. I'm in town for a few more days... Can I buy you dinner and we can talk?"

Beverly hasn't been on a date in over forty years and she's tempted but, ultimately, she only agrees to corresponding by e-mail.

Julian proves to be persistent. He contacts her frequently and the next time he is in town, she agrees to lunch but puts a halt to any non-professional discussions. The man is nearly twenty years her junior and she is still technically a married woman.

1982-Guilt

At 20 months, Leonard constantly clings to her. While she tries to write her notes he is ever at her side yelling, "Mommy, mommy, mommy," and "uppy, uppy, uppy" while gesturing to be held. No amount of quality time can quench his need for quantity time. Beverly is exhausted. Michael is just learning to sit when propped up and can stay at her feet quietly for hours at a time. Michael enjoys watching Leonard's antics but Leonard is not impressed by Michael. When they go to the park, Leonard is fascinated by babies and will yell, "hi, baby," in an infant's face over and over until pulled away by force but he is indifferent to his little brother.

He is in no way indifferent to Beverly. From the moment he wakes up, he wants to be in Beverly's arms, playing with her hair and her teeth. He tells her endless babbling stories and becomes irate if she tries to multitask. When she looks at her notebooks or typewriter, Leonard physically turns her face towards him. On the rare occasion that Leonard finds a way to entertain himself, she gets as much work done as possible.

She doesn't look a gift horse in a mouth, Michael is asleep in his swing, Leonard is being quiet and she is able to finish editing a paper for publication and finish her case notes for the day. Beverly knows that 'mother's intuition' is simply an unconscious series of observations and she would never know what sends the chill up her spine but she is on her feet and running. Leonard is lying quietly on the bathroom floor surrounded by a colorful array of pills and he isn't breathing.

While she performs CPR and waits for the ambulance to arrive, she surveys the scene. He must have climbed to the medicine cabinet, pulled out the soft travel bag full of pills and dropped them to the floor. (They kept the pill bottles in the travel bag to keep the tempting bottles out of sight, instead the bag muffled the noise of the bottles hitting the ground. The road to hell is paved with good intentions, indeed.) Once he was back on the ground he had opened all eight child-proof bottles. It was impossible to guess how many pills he had eaten. Ibuprofen, acetaminophen, birth control, muscle relaxers, benzodiazepine...

Tears are streaming down her cheeks but she feels no identifiable emotion. She simply thinks over and over, "I did this." She had been so determined to be a better mother than her own, to put her children first and shield them from harm. She can't think of a word terrible enough to describe herself.

Cassandra was not wrong when she told people, "My little brother died but he got better." Leonard had died several times, his tiny organs shutting down at the onslaught of foreign chemicals. Beverly sat frozen and mentally prepared herself for the inevitable.

Obviously, Leonard survived. No one ever blamed Beverly for her neglect. Edwin held her and said how glad he was it was her and not him because of her medical training and her imperturbability. The doctors assured her that Leonard was a lucky little boy to have such a cool-headed mother. No one tried to arrest her. No one spit in her face. In desperation, she even went to confession. She told her story to a priest who refused to judge her and instead told her she had been blessed with a second chance so she could return to the church and raise her children right. He offered her penance for failing to attend church but he refused to blame her for the near death of her child. That had simply been an unfortunate accident.

2011- Revelation

"Your father tells me you have not been returning his calls or e-mails. He believes you are angry with him because of our impending divorce," Beverly doesn't bother beating around the bush. "I don't see how my husband's infidelity affects you. It is irrelevant to your relationship with your father."

"Irrelevant? You think it's irrelevant to me?"

"He didn't 'cheat on' you, Leonard."

"No, he cheated on my mother. He..." Leonard trails off as his eyes become watery. Beverly's chest tightens with a rush of anxiety. If Leonard starts crying, she's going to have to leave. She can't handle it. He can just add it to the list of her maternal failures. The list was surely long enough that one more entry was hardly worth noting.

Fortunately, her son quickly composes himself and continues is a calm voice, "My understanding of male/female relationships was, in large part, derived from my observation of your marriage during my formative years."

Beverly nods, silently encouraging him to continue in this analytical vein.

"What I learned..." he closes his eyes and collects himself, "What I learned is that if a man loves a woman, he does anything he can to keep her. He gives up on affection and birthdays and friendships and he neglects his childrens' emotional needs... And after thirty some years of giving up on everything that means anything to him just to hang on to a women he still thinks is too good for him... he fucks some waitress from the cafeteria? I couldn't have a birthday party but he gets to screw around?"

"I don't believe the two events are directly connected..."

"I thought we had to live the way we lived because Father loved you so much he couldn't argue with you."

"Your father and I agreed to raise our children..."

"However you wanted to raise them. He never took a stand on anything. He let you ridicule his work, undermine his authority..."

"What I hear you saying is..."

"Please let me finish saying it before you tell me what you hear. I always thought there was something admirable about the way Father was so committed to you and your crazy parenting techniques..."

"My parenting techniques were based on years of research and careful..."

"Please let me finish!" Leonard is tugging at his hair. She hasn't seen him engage in that particular nervous tic in over a decade. "If he just sat back and let us feel unloved and unlovable to preserve a marriage that he then threw away..."

Leonard's eyes are getting watery again and Beverly is overwhelmed by as urge to flee. She is used to the harsh judgments regarding her parenting (though they usually come from Cassandra) but she has always been certain that her children would one day appreciate her efforts.

"Was there ever a time you felt physically threatened in your own home? Where you ever afraid to fall asleep and leave yourself vulnerable to an attack? Did you ever wonder whether or not you would be fed?" tears are blurring her vision and her voice is beginning to crack but she is determined to make her point, "Your father and I never lied to you. We never offered false promises or false hopes."

"You could have been a little kinder with the truth," Leonard replies quietly. Beverly can't quite pin down what's going on behind his darting eyes.

"I would rather err on the side of being too frank than leave you unprepared for the harsh realities of life. You claim to resent the rigidity of your childhood and yet, here you are, a grown man still living with a roommate, letting Sheldon tell you what to do and when to do it. You crave structure and consistency and the safety it provides. You've never lived in chaos and yet you know..."

She can't finish the sentence, instead she straightens her back, closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing. She's not about to break down now.

"What do I know?" Leonard's voice and eyes are gentle. He looks so much like Edwin in that moment that her heart clenches.

"You know that there is safety in structure and stability," Beverly struggles to keep her tone even but her mind is swirling with unpleasant memories.

"Nana..." Leonard begins before apparently changing his mind and falling silent.

Beverly wants to let it go, the last thing she wants to do is discuss her mother. She forces a forkful of food into her mouth but tastes nothing, She jumps when a hand touches her arm. It's Leonard's hand. Of course, it's Leonard's hand. Who else would it be?

"When Nana came to visit me, she was already pretty confused," her son begins, clearly choosing his words with care, "and, in addition to carving the turkey naked, she said a lot of things that I didn't understand."

Beverly can't begin to guess what Adele Martin said in her state of confusion. Before the Alzheimer's took hold, it was already difficult to separate fact from fiction in her tales.

It isn't a topic she wants to discuss and while she will not refuse to answer her son's questions, she will not facilitate the inquisition. If Leonard wants to open this particular can of worms, he'll have to do it alone.

Leonard is pushing his food into small and even piles on his plate, "Nana talked about different men..."

Beverly lets out a derisive snort and Leonard's first question is answered.

"She also talked about Pappy being jealous..."

Beverly has nothing to say so she remains silent.

"Did Pappy shoot someone?"

Beverly chokes on her glass of water.

"Mother, is that a yes or a no?"

"I have no idea, Leonard," Beverly answers, in all honesty, "There were rumors in town. I don't think anything was ever proven."

Leonard's eyes widen behind his thick glasses, "Do you think he shot someone?"

Beverly shrugs dismissively as she has for years, "I don't know the facts of the situation. I know my mother frequently entertained strange men at our house while father was away and I know father had a temper and a gun. It isn't outside the realm of possibility but I've no reason to believe it is a fact."

"Nana kept getting confused about who I was. She was calling me Leonard but..."

"Whatever Nana may have said about Leonard was wrong," she says it with more force and volume than she'd intended.

"Who was Leonard? Was I named after him?"

It's a fair question and Beverly does her best to be honest.

"Leonard was a significant figure in my youth and while I didn't name you after him, per se, my fondness for the name likely stems from my fond memories of him."

"Oh, no," Leonard looks very concerned, "Am I named after one of your old boyfriends? That can't be healthy."

"No, he wasn't my boyfriend. I barely knew the man."

"Then why was he so significant?"

It's a fair question but Beverly changes the subject. The lessons she learned from her acquaintanceship with Leonard Silverman have continued to elude Leonard Hofstadter and she is happy enough to let things remain that way.

"She also asked me about Aunt Betty and I didn't know what to say. I don't even know if anyone has tried to find her or figured out why she left..." Leonard trails off, clearly expecting Beverly to respond but she remains silent.

"Don't you wonder what happened to her? Aren't you curious? There must be a way to learn more with today's technology."

"The police did their investigation at the time and deemed her to be a runaway. As for why she left, there could be any number of reasons. I ran away to college."

"But why would she say good-bye?"

"Leonard, you're trying to understand the internal motivations of another individual. It's an impossible task."

"That's an odd thing for a psychiatrist to say."

Beverly smiles, "I help people to understand their own feelings and motivations. I can make my inferences and predictions but, ultimately, the human mind is too complex to be understood in simple terms. Each decision is the result of a lifetime of experience. From prenatal care to what you eat for breakfast affects your thoughts, your perceptions, your understanding of each situation. You will never truly understand another person, Leonard. Never."

"That's really depressing."

"Life's complexity is not depressing, it is magnificent."

"Wouldn't it be nice to have an answer, though? Wouldn't you like to know what happened?"

"It would be nice, much like it would be nice to have a pet unicorn."

"Sheldon is convinced he can make a gryphon in a test tube. If he ever does, I need to find a new best friend."