by Heather Long
Exhaling, I took the leap. “Okay.”
Light seemed to fill his whole expression as he grinned. It was a real one, the first one I’d seen on his face in a while. It warmed his eyes and reminded me why I’d wanted to kiss him that day in the pool.
Five minutes and after he’d explained his plan later, I burst out laughing. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope,” he promised. “What do you think?”
“I love it.”
I really did.
Schadenfreude
Wednesday
Bubba: AM canceled today. Where’s lunch?
Jake: What?
Bubba: She just texted me. Didn’t you get one?
Archie: …
Jake: Nope—wait. Got it.
Coop: Parking lot. Now.
Archie: OMW.
Bubba: What happened?
Jake: Fuck me. You’re about to get it.
Archie: I’m going to kill that cunt.
Bubba: Shit.
Coop: Less talking. More walking.
Jake: Where’s Frankie?
Archie: With Rachel. Her 1st appt is today.
Jake: Shit.
Coop: Just get out here.
Txting Rachel.
Archie: Fuck.
Bubba: What now?
Jake: Where is that bitch?
Archie: It’s lunch. Check the cafeteria,
I’ll check her car.
Bubba: Guys.
Coop: Don’t. We make a decision together.
Nothing impulsive. Parking lot.
Jake: …
Archie: Fine.
Bubba: Almost there.
Coop: J?
Jake: I’m seriously done with her.
Archie: Me 2.
Jake: BRT
Chapter Nineteen
Therapy Scares Me
The interior of the office had pale gray carpet and a half circle formed by three sets of leather loveseats covered in colorful pillows. There was a hum in the corner from a small fountain along with another little fan in the other corner. The white noise was kind of pleasant.
Across from me, Erin Thom sat legs crossed and her demeanor relaxed. Probably good one of us was. Even after making the appointment, I’d done my best to not think about it. I’d been distracting myself for two days. All the way here though, I’d barely heard a word Rachel said. No matter how hard I tried to pump myself up, my stomach was in knots by the time Rachel pulled into the parking lot of the tidy little office building.
Red brick construction, kind of L shaped, with a handful of trees serving as landscaping, the building was utterly unremarkable. There was absolutely no moisture in my mouth by the time Rachel pulled into a parking slip.
“I’ll wait out here,” she said. “Unless you want me to come in with you.”
Clammy palms, racing heart, upset stomach, and a dry mouth. Yes, I wanted Rachel to come with me. “No,” I told her with a lot more certainty than I was feeling. “It’s kind of hard enough to do this at the moment.”
“It’s always hard the first time,” she cautioned. “Don’t expect miracles, Frankie. Just go in there and talk about as little or as much as you want.”
Curtises don’t do therapy. “You make it sound easy.”
“It’s like putting one foot in front of the other when you’re walking on stone bruises across hot pavement. It hurts, and it’s awkward. You’re tempted to run, but that’s gonna hurt in an entirely different way, and if you trip, it’s worse.”
I made a face and then looked at her. “That’s a horrible analogy.”
“And painful,” Rachel told me with a wry smile. “But you’re thinking about that and not the appointment. So take advantage and go on in. You got this.”
I blew out a breath. “Thanks, Rach.”
“I’ll be right here.”
That promise buoyed me. It helped me keep my chin above water all the way inside to the quiet little waiting room. There was a light on over the door where I was supposed to have my appointment and a note that read, Press the button when the light is on and take a seat. My fingers had trembled more than I cared to admit. But I pressed the damn button and then took a seat.
I took my phone out and checked my messages. The guys knew I was out for lunch. They knew where I was going. No one had given me even an ounce of teasing over it. If anything, the only question I’d been asked was did I really want Rachel to take me? When I said yes, they backed off on it.
As weird as that response seemed in some ways, I’d been damn grateful for it. All the joy from the night before seemed like a distant memory. Ian and I had fun at the studio.
So much so, I’d agreed to go with him again the following Tuesday. He’d been booking studio time for the last couple of weeks, putting in serious time. Recording the…
“Frankie Curtis?”
I nearly jumped out of my skin at the greeting. I’d been so focused on trying to think of anything else, I hadn’t noticed her door opening or the woman standing there.
“I’m Erin Thom,” she said, smiling. She was about my height with long dark hair, faint Asian features, and I swore she couldn’t be that much older than me.
This was supposed to be my therapist? What was she? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?
No, she had to be older, right?
After shaking my hand, she ushered me into her pleasant little office with its all of one room. While she had a notepad next to her, the pen lay capped and on top of it while she focused on me.
“I’ve never done this before,” I admitted.
“That’s what you said on the phone,” Erin told me, her tone patient and easy. “That’s perfectly fine. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”
“I’m…I’m seventeen. I’m a senior in high school.”
That was probably not what she meant, right?
“I’m—um…” I curled my fingers into my palms again. “I don’t really know how to do this. My friend Coop, he’s easy to talk to about things, and he wants to do what you’re doing, but this is weird.”
“I understand. What I hear you saying is you’re not comfortable discussing personal things with someone you’ve just met.”
“No, I’m not,” I agreed readily, and looked at my hands. “It’s more than that though. I was raised to believe we handled our own problems and that…” Fuck, consider the source, I told myself. “Maddy always said Curtises don’t do therapy.”
I winced.
“That sounds kind of insulting. Sorry.” Licking my lips, I flexed my fingers. “A few weeks ago, I was holding that line firm, even when the school advocate was offering to talk, and yeah, I probably needed to talk to someone, but not her. She’s…too close. She’s right there at the school. Knows the people.”
“Understandable, you want privacy because you’re not comfortable discussing any of these topics in the first place, much less with someone who might have a more personal tie.”
I nodded. “A little bit like that, yeah. I don’t…” I shifted and pulled my legs up to sit cross legged before I gave into the urge and got up to pace. The longer I sat here in this serene, peaceful room with Erin’s kind eyes on me, the more restless I became. “This is so messy, and I don’t know how to explain this to myself, much less to anyone else.”
“I hear you,” she told me, and not once did she flinch from meeting my gaze, even when I kept pulling mine away. “Would it be easier for you if I ask questions?”
“Maybe.” The truth was I didn’t want to talk about any of it.
“Okay, let’s start with something simple then. Tell me what you hope to get from coming to see me.”
“Peace of mind?” That was more of a question than an answer. “Something…a lot of somethings have been going on, but…I was drugged at Homecoming, and I don’t remember parts of that evening, like…how I got this.” I motioned to the cast on my right arm. “I know my friends…they saved me. They stopped the guy, and I know who, and considering the battery of tests I had to do
afterward when I woke up at the hospital…well, I know what he wanted to do.”
A slick of ice seemed to race over my skin.
“He didn’t. I mean, that’s one upside. At least that’s what they could tell from the tests they did. There was a really nice woman—Denitra. She was my SAFE advocate.”
Erin nodded.
“I had some bruises, the broken wrist…some bruised ribs. And the guys took me home afterward, and they’ve all stayed with me. I haven’t been alone, and that’s a good thing. But I have nightmares most nights that wake me up, and it’s hard on them. I know they remember—I can see it in their eyes. But I don’t, and there’s this hole where something bad happened, and even though it could have been worse, it’s…like I want to fill in all the blanks with the worst thoughts and ideas.” I tried to laugh, but it came off hollow even to my own ears. “I should mention I’m absolutely terrible about horror movies. Can’t sleep for days after watching one.”
“It sounds like you have a vivid imagination.”
“Sometimes.” I licked my lips again, desperately wishing I’d brought something in with me.
“Would you like some water?” Erin motioned to a small mini fridge. “I’ve got some bottled water.”
My stomach did a flip-flop. “That was where the drug was. In a bottle of water.”
“Okay. Doesn’t change my question, unless bottles bother you. In which case, we can grab some empty plastic cups and step into my private bathroom there and you can fill it with water from the sink.”
“That probably comes across paranoid, doesn’t it?”
“Not at all. It comes across as healthy caution and wariness after your trust has already been abused. I’m assuming the person who gave you the water bottle is someone you trusted.”
I nodded once.
“Then I can understand why you would be wary of taking a bottle of water from a friend, much less a stranger.”
She didn’t make it a big deal or sound remotely critical. Just took it in stride. We both grabbed plastic cups, and she opened her tidy little restroom. I filled my cup from the sink, and the tap water was probably the most welcome thing I’d drunk in a while.
When we were back in our seats, she studied me again. “You told me about some of what happened to you and that you’re looking for peace of mind. What do you need to find that?”
“Those hours back,” I admitted. “To know for certain what happened, because it can’t be worse than I what I keep imagining. To not worry the guys anymore. They’re spending so much time looking after me and trying to shield me from stuff. I’m not a fragile person, but I feel so…”
I didn’t have the words for what I felt. It didn’t fit into a tidy little box. If anything, it spilled out like chaos and scattered all over in a disorganized mess.
“I don’t know what I feel. I just don’t feel like me.”
“Do you mind if I ask where your parents are in this? Can you talk to them?”
“I don’t have a dad, or at least, not one that I know. He’s never been a fact of my life. My mother…um…I’m suing in court to be emancipated, because she’s currently having an affair with the very married father of one of my closest friends and…they’re living together. She moved out of the apartment a couple of days before Homecoming.”
Yep. Erin blinked.
“I have a temporary injunction granting me emancipation status while the court reviews my case. My lawyer has good feelings about it, because my mother moved out and has had limited time for me over the last couple of years.” Longer, but probably better to stay on target.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It has to be tough.”
“I’m kind of used to it. She’s never been… The words ‘emotionally available’ would never apply to her.” I chewed at my lower lip.
“You said your friends have been staying with you.”
“The guys,” I told her. “They’ve been my best friends for years…Coop goes all the way back to kindergarten. He’s been in my life pretty much for as long as I can remember. Jake’s been there for a long time, too. Ian came later, and Archie last. But…we’ve been tight.” I made a face. “I’m dating them.”
“So you have a boyfriend.”
“I kind of have three,” I admitted. “I had four, sort of, but Ian and I broke up. Well, I broke up with him because he was…he was doing this push and pull, and I didn’t know where he was coming from and he wouldn’t talk to me, and I never knew where I stood with Maddy so I thought it would be easier if I just stopped the dating part before our friendship tanked. I don’t want to lose any of them as friends, and there are some lines that once you cross them, you can’t come back.”
I squinted one eye closed as I met her speculative gaze. Okay, to be fair, it might not be speculative, but she definitely seemed to be focused on me. Which, I supposed, was her job.
“Not sure how you categorize train wrecks, but I just might be one.”
“Hmm, I think that might be an extreme view to take of yourself. What I hear is a lot of things have been happening, not all of which are under your control. In fact, as with most things in life, the only thing we can truly control is ourselves.”
“Not really sure what to do with that advice.”
“It’s not advice, it’s an observation. We’re not to the advice portion of our program. We’re unpacking things right now. Laying it all out so we can look at it.”
I picked up the water and took a really long drink of it. “What else do you want to know?”
“Let’s talk about your mother. Tell me about your relationship with her.”
We could be here all night. “How much time do we have left?”
“Enough,” Erin assured me. “Don’t worry about the clock, just focus on me.”
So, I told her about the relationship between Maddy and me. I explained why I’d decided to call her by her name. I had to keep jumping back and forth, partially because a part of me wanted to defend her, and the rest of me want to put my foot down on the accelerator of the bus and drive it right over Maddy.
When a little ding sounded, I paused and Erin glanced over at the clock.
“Our hour is up?” Somewhere in there, the hammering of my heart had chilled out and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach quieted.
“Not quite, I always leave five minutes so we can discuss what we want to do next, particularly because this was our first session. What I would like to do is schedule future sessions with you—I think we have a great deal more to unpack.”
More sessions. “I barely made it to this one.”
“Was it as terrible as you were expecting?”
“No,” I admitted. “But…is this really going to help? I can try to talk to the guys more.”
“You can absolutely talk to them. Having people you trust, a strong support network who will listen, that’s vital. At the same time, therapy isn’t a cure-all, it’s a treatment plan. It’s a way to help you focus on the issues, and tackle them. I’m here to help you find the answers that work best for you.”
I swallowed. “So you can’t just say like, take these two pills a day for the next few days and it will clear it all up?”
“No,” Erin told me kindly. “It doesn’t work like that. How comfortable would you be coming in three times a week?”
Three times a week?
“Um…maybe two?” The guys were seeing Diane two or three times a week. “I’m not driving yet. I mean, I did drive yesterday. But it’s still challenging.” But the guys said they’d bring me, too.
“Well, let’s start with two. You came today, I would normally suggest Friday at lunch, but I already have an appointment then.” And it was Archie’s date night, and his birthday was this weekend with us racing toward Halloween.
“How about next Wednesday? Then we can do that Friday at lunch? Is this a good time for you? We can do it later in the day if you want.”
“No, this is fine.” I was really going to see a therapist.
<
br /> “All right, I have you down, and it will email you a confirmation.”
I nodded and rose along with her.
“Frankie, do you journal?”
“I’m supposed to be keeping one for class, but I’m pretty behind on it.” I held up my right wrist. “The guys are doing a lot of my handwriting, and we kind of skipped over the journaling thing.”
“I can understand that, but you can still type with your left hand, yes?”
I could, so I nodded.
“Good, I want you to work on a couple of things for me between now and Wednesday. Also, if you have any questions, email me. You can call and leave a message, but it’s not always easy to get me on the phone. I check email between every session.”
After she explained my homework, she told me she was looking forward to working with me, and then it was done. I was out of the door and leaving the office building through the glass doors. Rachel was parked right where I’d left her, and she was busily typing away on her phone when I opened the passenger door and let out a waft of burgers, fries, and spotted the drinks in the cup holders.
“Hey,” she said with a grin. “I got a vicious case of the munchies after I bitch-slapped some asses on Snapchat. I doubled the order so you could eat, too.”
Before I went into the appointment, the thought of food made me want to puke, but my stomach was growling like hell as I unwrapped the cheeseburger. “Thank you.”
“Got to take care of my girl,” she told me, then clicked her phone off and glanced over at me. “So…do you want me to ask how it went, or just give you your space on that and we talk about the rest of the world?”
