The Davidson Method
“I regret to inform you that your son is incompatible.” Alison Ventham let the announcement hang in the air, giving it the weight it deserved and inviting the inevitable follow-up. It was always best, in her experience, to let the clients lead. People felt better when they felt in control.
“Incompatible? What does that mean, exactly?” asked Susan, the mother. Alison favored her with a reassuring smile, noting the not-so-subtle differences in each parent’s reaction to the news. Susan hadn’t been able to hide her disappointment, but her soon-to-be-ex-husband Richard didn’t seem quite so crestfallen. Perhaps he was simply putting on a brave face. Or perhaps he still harbored some hope of reconciliation between the two of them, and this setback represented an opportunity to change course. Alternatively…
“It means we won’t have to spend what’s left of Tommy’s college fund solving a problem we should be able to solve ourselves,” said Richard, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as though he’d meant that for an internal monologue.
“We are solving it ourselves,” Susan bristled. Alison had the sense that she was watching a repeat performance of an argument that had played out many times before. “We chose this option, Rich, and for better or worse we’ve got to see it through.”
“Poor choice of words,” Richard muttered, folding his arms in front of his prodigious chest as though he were trying to squeeze the frustration out of himself.
“Options,” said Alison, leaning forward to pass them each a leaflet from the stack she kept on her desk. She slid them to either side of the ornate glass case set into the center of the desk, which held a single withered cigarette butt on a red velvet cushion. Alison allowed herself a moment of satisfaction as she caught them eyeing the strange display, innocuously ostentatious amid the otherwise utilitarian décor of her office.
“The purpose of today’s meeting is for us to identify the best way forward, given the options that remain open to us. And I assure you, a number of options remain. The Davidson Method is nothing if not flexible.”
“But wait,” said Susan, interrupting the pitch. The tiniest flash of irritation furrowed Alison’s brow. She willed it away, dismissing the inconvenient emotion with practiced ease. “Doctor Ventham, you said Tommy was incompatible,”
