“I just feel like… I don’t want to talk to anybody, but I need to talk. You know what I mean?”

Clients always begged Pessie to come down to their houses, but Pessie refused. She had the right equipment in her house, a good space, a familiar environment. She didn’t like working elsewhere.

But sometimes she made exceptions.

Like when the client was her mother.

Yitty Hartstein was on the phone when Pessie arrived for their weekly session. Pessie’s stomach churned as she parked Motti’s stroller in the foyer. She was tempted to wake him up so it wouldn’t be just her and her mother. Stilted conversations on the phone were bad enough. Face-to-face awkwardness would be torture.

Her mother waved breezily, motioning her to wait a minute. When she hung up, Pessie followed her to the living room. Her mother slipped on her sneakers and powered the speaker on. A regular day, a regular session.

They continued playing regular for a good ten minutes, until they were halfway through the bicycle crunches. Then Pessie’s mother started talking, as though they were in middle of a conversation. “So it’s official? April 15 and goodbye?”

Pessie kept her eyes on the ceiling. “He was going to leave sooner, but he didn’t want to leave any clients high and dry.”

Her mother lifted her shoulder blades off the ground. “Considerate.”

That’s when Pessie had it. She sat up abruptly. “Ma.”

“Yes?”

Her mother was going strong. Lift, extend, lift, bend.

“Ma, could you please stop for a minute?”

Casting a swift glance at Pessie, her mother finally sat up. “Okay.”

Pessie dug her palms into the ground so that her shoulders leaned in and stiffened. “I don’t want Yochi to leave the firm.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“So then, why is he leaving?”

“Because he wants to.”

Her mother’s forehead creased. Pessie waited for her to say something, but her mother just sat there, drumming her fingers. The music played in the background, an incongruously upbeat presence in the living room.