He said she seemed a bit off, like she didn’t quite fit.” Dylan snorted. “He said he found it charming, at least at first. That, and her accent.” Dr. Richards tapped his pen on his notepad a few times. “You seem very determined to talk about your mother.” “What?” Dylan said, alarmed. “No, I’m not.” He had the sinking feeling of being caught in a well-prepared trap.
“And yet you keep coming back to her.”
“Only when it’s relevant.”
“The very fact that you constantly think it’s relevant tells me that you need to talk about her.”
He continued on over Dylan’s protests.
“So let’s talk about her. She had an accent. Where was she from?”
Dylan shook his head.
“Dad never really knew. She was always very vague about her past. He just knew she wasn’t from around here. Not from the States, I mean. Probably would have been a real problem had they ever tried to get married. But Dad was always very clear that she wasn’t just strange in ways that anyone from another country would seem strange; it was more than that. She was . . .
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