As she filled the turkey baster with drippings from the pan and drizzled them across the turkey breast in the hot oven, Joan took a quick, anxious glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. 1:43. Only seventeen minutes before her parents arrived. There was no doubt they would arrive precisely at 2:00. They were always on time. Her father could not tolerate tardiness.

As she closed the oven door, her eyes flew around the kitchen looking for crumbs, stains, messes, disorder. The tightness in her stomach loosened a bit as she saw that everything looked clean and neat. Daddy would approve.

"Just take some deep breaths," she told herself. "You're doing great. Everything's going to be fine."

In the middle of her second deep breath she remembered that her husband still hadn't gone for ice or set up the bar. Forgetting to let out her breath slowly, she sighed in a short, intense puff of exasperation. Why did she always have to remind him about these things? Where was he anyway?

"Bill," she called down the hall, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "Honey, are you almost ready? I need you to go for ice!" This last remark sounded a little intense, she realized. She mustn't let him think she was upset. She wanted to stay calm and relaxed. She knew that if she got uptight, it wouldn't be long before everyone else was too. "Breathe," she reminded herself. "Breathe."

When Joan opened the front door a few minutes later, her father wrapped her in a huge, warm hug. "How's my little princess?" he asked jovially. "I can't wait to see the culinary masterpieces you've cooked up for us this year. Did you make my favorite oyster stuffing?"

"Of course," Joan smiled. "Don't I always?"

"Where is everybody?" he boomed as he walked into the empty family room. Frowning, he looked at his watch. Joan saw the muscles in his jaws flex as he made an effort to hide his disapproval.

Joan's mother pecked her on the cheek absently then rushed to her husband's side. "Oh look, Henry," she said nervously, pointing to a vase of flowers on the coffee table. "Aren't those flowers beautiful? Where did you ever get those gorgeous tulips, Joan? Aren't those tulips just ravishing, Henry?" Joan clenched her own teeth and felt her stomach tighten as she watched her mother's nervous attempts to distract her father with idle chatter, the way she always did, always had done.

"Oh Bill and the kids will be back any minute, Daddy," she said, trying to sound calm and casual. "They've just gone out for ice."

"There's no ice yet?" he said with a frown. "You know how I hate hot drinks."

"Oh sure, Daddy. There's ice in the fridge. They're just getting more ice for later on when the others get here." Joan smiled gaily as she opened a cabinet door, pulled out a glass, and filled it with ice from the refrigerator door. "Here you are, silly. Now help yourself to whatever you want."

Joan's mother grabbed the glass and rushed to the bar to fix her husband a drink. From the kitchen, Joan heard her father complain to her mother that the tonic was warm and would melt the ice which would water down his drink. In a moment Joan's mother bustled back into the kitchen for more ice, the worry lines between her eyebrows more pronounced than usual.

"Relax, Mom," Joan hissed at her mother. "Good lord, he can get his own ice, can't he?" Under her breath she cursed herself for her angry outburst.

"Relax yourself, Joan!" she said to herself sternly. "There you go, getting uptight again, just like you always do when Daddy and Mother come over. What's the matter with you? Why can't you be more patient with them?" Joan took another deep breath, which turned into a sigh of relief when she heard her husband's car in the driveway. "Thank God. Here they are at last! It took him long enough," she thought as she opened the oven door to baste the turkey again. "It would be nice if once, just once, Bill would be a help to me instead of making matters worse. Well, as usual, I guess I just have to do everything myself. This is going to be a perfect Thanksgiving, by god, or I'll know the reason why!" She muttered these last words aloud as she angrily sprayed the turkey with hot drippings.

"What'd you say, honey?" Bill's voice asked from just behind her. Joan jumped at the unexpected sound, splashing turkey drippings on the hot oven walls. Smoke poured out of the oven, setting off the fire alarm.

"What's going on in there?" roared her father.

"Now look what you made me do," Joan growled at her husband in a tight, low voice. Bill flinched and stepped back with a hurt look on his face. "Oh, nothing, Daddy," Joan called out sweetly. Just a little accident with the turkey baster. I've got it under control."

Sure enough, she did. In a few minutes the smoke was gone and the alarm was off. Soon, the rest of the family arrived, and precisely at 4:00, dinner was served. Everyone agreed it was Joan's best Thanksgiving dinner yet. Her father was particularly complimentary.

"That's my little princess," he said warmly. "She knows how to do these things right, by gosh, unlike other people I know." Joan basked in the glow of his approval, knowing that the "other people" he alluded to meant her sister-in-law, of whom he heartily disapproved. Marcie was an unconventional, independent-minded woman with a casual attitude toward life and a lack of concern about what other people thought. She never seemed to do things the proper way, which, in Joan's family, meant her father's way.

Joan glanced anxiously at her sister-in-law across the table to see if she was hurt by this obvious dig, but Marcie just smiled gently. Joan was amazed that she could take this so calmly. Everyone in her family always criticized Marcie behind her back for her unorthodox ways, calling her spacey, disorganized, lazy, and even selfish, yet she didn't seem to know or care. If her father had said anything like that about her, Joan would have been miserable and distraught for days.

Much to Joan's relief, her migraine didn't start until after everyone was gone and the kitchen was once again spotless.

"Good party, honey," her husband said as he gently kissed her goodnight. You always do it up right."

"Thanks," she said, managing a weak smile. But deep in a dark, secret place, a very tiny, very stern voice whispered, "No thanks to you!" The voice was so subtle that Joan didn't notice it as she sighed loudly and deeply, waiting for the pills to kick in and wash away the splitting pain with welcome waves of numbness.

The very last thought Joan had before she drifted off to sleep was a secret wish that came from quite a different secret place. The wish was also very tiny and subtle. In fact, it was so tiny that it never really registered as a wish. It just floated into her consciousness and then floated right back down again after a brief image of her happily eccentric sister-in-law unaccountably flitted across her mind. And although Joan would not remember it, and certainly would not admit to it if anyone accused her of it, the image and the wish were accompanied by an agonized surge of envy.

"I wish I could be like Marcie," was what she thought. "But Daddy would never put up with it."



Discussion Questions

1. Describe the secret part of Joan that feels anger toward her husband, her mother, and herself. Why is it angry? What does it believe? What does it expect from others? What does it want? What does it need? Give this part of Joan's unconscious self an appropriate name.

2. Describe the other secret part of Joan that was mentioned in the story - the part that envies Marcie. Why is it envious? What does it believe? What does it expect? Want? Need? Give this second secret part of Joan an appropriate name.

3. How would you describe Joan's father? What does he believe about himself? What does he need and expect from others? What do his needs and expectations of others have to do with his instinct for nurturance? What effects does his Shadow King have on his family?

4. What do you think Joan thinks about her father? In what ways is her estimation of him right? In what ways is it wrong?

5. What does Joan need from her father? What do these needs have to do with her instinct for nurturance? Describe the part of Joan that still needs so much from her father. Look for clues in the story to find an appropriate name for this part of Joan.

6. What do Joan's secret feelings about her husband say about her instinct for nurturance? Is she more concerned about nurturing him or being nurtured by him? Would you say that Joan has a Shadow King too? If so, how is her Shadow King like her father's Shadow King? What do you think will happen to Joan's relationship with her husband if she does not find a way to heal her Shadow King?

7. Who in this family appears to have a positive, healthy King? Based on what you know about this person, describe some characteristics of the healthy King.

8. Do you think Joan's secret wish to be more like Marcie is positive or negative? Why? What risks would Joan have to take to become more like Marcie?



Discussion

The disapproval of a Shadow King can be extremely intimidating when someone subordinate to him dares to bend the rules. This is not necessarily because he is innately cruel, but because he is oriented to mental constructions, like ideas, ideals, rules, logical consequences, and so on.

This over-valuing of mentality leaves little room for human feeling. Indeed, Shadow Kings rarely have any use for feelings, which they usually consider to be irrelevant to the issues at hand.

Such people often give the appearance of extreme benevolence and caring. They think very well of themselves because they so rigorously uphold the traditional, conventional values of their family and religion, and other people tend to look up to them for the same reasons. They are usually very well-intentioned and see their unwillingness to compromise as strength of character. By being firm, they hope to develop character in themselves and their subordinates. Unfortunately, the judgment, expectations, and moral certainty of obessive Kings can be extremely debilitating to their partners, children, and employees who must hide their feelings and suppress their individuality in order to be accepted and remain under the protection of these powerful and persuasive individuals.

These are the people who can completely devastate their children or partners with a raised eyebrow or tiny frown over a minor infraction in speech, manners, clothing, behavior, and appearances. While such people feel they are simply upholding high standards, those around them can come to feel as if there is something terribly wrong with them for having feelings or beliefs that are different. This lack of acceptance can result in the demoralization of their dependents who either rebel, or else become fragile and fearful, terrified of saying or doing anything that might possibly offend. Indeed, the children or partners of even the most benevolent Shadow Kings can become depressed or rebellious without anyone having the slightest idea why, since everyone can see how morally upright the Kings in such families are!

A child who is intimidated by an obsessive King in one or both parents will often grow up to behave the same way toward his or partner and children, feeling superior about little flaws in others, or indignant about things s/he perceives as indicating a lack of character. Then personal idiosyncracies become fodder for scorn, and minor lapses of laziness, forgetfulness, messiness, inefficiency, wastefulness, an occasional social lie, or a broken promise become major issues that threaten to destroy relationships.

The Shadow King is convinced that such reactions are justified. He is quick to blame, accuse, judge, criticize, and point out the flaws of others. He finds it almost impossible to forgive the person or forget the infraction, whereas a person with a more well-developed Queen will be able to accept the other's humanness without having to instigate a scene or create a serious rupture in the relationship.