Frowning, I ask “What do you mean the foreseeable future? I’ll be starting at Stanford in a month.”
“Emilienne,” Dr. Johnston breaks in, watching me closely. “I’ve recommended to your parents that they hold off sending you to Stanford for a year. I think it would be best that you spend a little more time readjusting before heading to the University.”
“Umm… What?” I bite the inside of my lip to keep from saying the WTF that’s on the tip of my tongue. Ever since I’d gotten home from the hospital, all my Mom could talk about was how proud they were that I’d gotten into Stanford, and how excited I should be for school to start.
Mom shifts nervously “Well… we thought it would be better if you spend a little more time at a school that would provide a safer and less stressful atmosphere. Since you missed your high school graduation… it made sense…”
“Wait a minute,” I interrupt, trying to control the anger boiling in me. “You want me to pass up Stanford and go back to High School? Are you kidding me? I already graduated! What the hell?!?! This is stupid. Are you going to make me repeat all the classes I took last year as well?” I’m so angry I’m shaking. It’s taking all my self-control to sit here.
“Oh no Emilienne. Dr. Johnston has already made all the arrangements with the school. Technically you won’t even be getting graded. You will be auditing classes. Oh and of course you won’t have to repeat anything you’ve already taken… In fact you can fill your schedule with electives if you like.”
“The point is for you to get back in the habit of school,” Dr. Johnston joins in. “It will also give you an opportunity to socialize with people your own age and give you more time to work through the issue you’ve been experiencing with crowded places. Heading to Stanford now… Well, Emilienne, they wouldn’t be able to give you the small class sizes you’ll get on the island.”
“I can’t believe this…” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest.
“It’s for your own good Emilienne.” I scoff, shaking my head. They’ve clearly already made the decision, there’s no point in saying anything else.
“Is Father coming with us?” I finally ask, watching them from the corner of my eye. They exchange weighted looks, as though having a silent conversation. Inside I’m holding my breath, hoping the answer is no. There is no point trying to explain again why I don’t want to spend time around my Father. Dr. Johnston doesn’t understand how the rare family dinner he does bother showing up to are silent and unsettling. How the oppressive energy in the room weighs down on me until I feel like I can’t breath and I have to excuse myself. The one time I tried, the Doctor told me I was projecting my repressed negative emotions regarding the “incident” onto my Father because he wasn’t able to protect or prevent it. Then she’d gone into a long lecture on how I’d need to overcome my negative feelings regarding men, and that all men couldn’t be held responsible for the “incident.” Maybe I’d agree with her, IF I had memories regarding the “incident”, but since I still don’t remember it or anything about it, her theory falls flat to me. Add in the fact that not every man I’ve met inspires the same reaction as my Father, well it just sounds like bull crap psychobabble to me. But since there isn’t a way to explain that to Dr. Johnston or my Mom, I keep my opinion to myself.
“No Emilienne,” Mom’s words break into my thoughts. Something in her tone is off, and I really look at her. She looks flawless as always, in a demure beige dress with matching heels. It’s hard to tell what she’s really thinking or feeling with her mask of perfect makeup and elegantly pulled back hair. Is it my imagination, or are there shadows around her eyes? I wish I had a basis of comparison. She’s looked lost and worn in her unguarded moments. Did the “incident” bring all this on, or is there something else happening? Ugh, it’s so frustrating. Without any earlier memories of her, I just can’t tell. The photos I’ve seen are staged portraits that give no real insight into what she was like before. “Your Father needs to stay here to take care of his practice. It will just be the two of us. He may visit if he can work it into his schedule.”
“Of course,” I nod, keeping my face carefully neutral. Thank god for his work. If he can’t make it home for dinner, there is no way he’ll make time to visit, small mercies.
“You always loved the summers on the island,” she reassures. “It will be a fresh start for you. I know you don’t agree with the school plan, but it will give you a place to get back on your feet.”
“Sure Mom, whatever.” I know I sound like a brat, but I just can’t bring myself to fake happiness at the moment. It’s not like there is anything holding me here. It’s just annoying to have finally gotten settled, only go get uprooted again.
“Well then,” Dr. Johnston says with a smile. “Now that that is resolved, our time is up for today. Emilienne, we’ll be continuing our private sessions remotely. Bring your laptop to our next appointment, and my secretary will get you set up on our secure service for video conferencing.” Clearly dismissing me, she turns to Mom. “Mrs. Langmore, may I speak with you for a moment before you leave?” Mom nods and glances over at me.
“I’ll just wait in reception.” I tell her quickly. Grabbing my bag, I escape before they can change their minds. After over a month of seeing Dr. Johnston at least twice a week, I was ready to be done with her and her fake sympathy routine. The best thing about video appointments would be I wouldn’t have to feel her attitude anymore. At least the lawyer and police interviews had tapered off in the last two weeks. They finally got the hint that my memory of the “incident” wasn’t going to return just because they dragged me in and asked me about it every couple of days. I wouldn’t be surprised if the reason behind our sudden move was to escape all of this. Asking Mom would be pointless though, if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.
Pulling out my phone, I load up a game and do a couple of quick quests while I wait. I’m sure her and Dr. Johnston are having yet another conversation about my lack of progress and refusal to talk about my feelings. I’d given up trying to explain it. For a psychiatrist, Dr. Johnston was seriously dense. Maybe someday I’d find these repressed emotions they were convinced I had. But so far none of the people I’d met or my experiences with them, made me feel like I was missing anything.
Tuesday, August 11th
∞
It was mid-afternoon by the time we turned into the drive for the summer house. I shut off my Kindle and stretched, looking out the car window. Huge trees lined the long driveway, blocking the view of the surrounding area. Mom had mentioned that the house was a little outside town, but this was way more isolated than I expected. I should have paid more attention to the drive here. But after an hour of listening to Mom’s aimless chatter on the ferry, I’d started a reading a book and tuned her out.
After a few minutes the trees fell back giving me my first view of the house. It was huge compared to what I imagined when she said we were going to stay in the summer house. While half the size of the other house, it was still larger than any of the homes I’d seen on our way to the ferry. And far more space than the two of us would need. Three stories high painted a rich tan with dark green trim on the triangular gabled dormers and a wraparound porch; it looked like a rich person’s interpretation of a rustic country home.
Pulling around to the right side of the house, we roll to a stop in front of a three car garage. Mom turns off the car and turns to look at me.
“Now, I know it’s not as nice as the other house, Emilienne. But it should be fine for the two of us.” She tells me, and I work hard to keep my expression neutral. This place is gorgeous and huge. I can’t believe she thinks she needs to apologize for it.
“This place is great Mom. I’m sure we’ll be very happy here,” I reassure her.
“Well let’s go take a look. I had a cleaning service come out and get everything prepared for us. I haven’t found find anyone I like enough to hire full time, so we’ll have to make do with the twice weekly service for now.” S
he pops the trunk and gets out of the car, still talking about all the things that need to be taken care of around the place. I put my Kindle into my satchel bag and climb out, stopping to grab my suitcase. I follow slowly, taking my time to admire the stone fountain in the center of circular drive. It’s constructed to look like a natural rock spring formation. I glance back to the house, it really is beautiful. If the inside is anything like the outside, Mom is crazy to worry. Climbing the stairs to the porch, I see her still fumbling with the keys. Setting my bag down, I head towards the far side of the porch, where it wraps around the house.
“Hey Mom, I’m going to walk around and look at the back yard.”
“Alright, just be sure to stay on the porch, Emilienne.” She says, finally getting the door unlocked.
Seriously? Stay on the porch? What am I, five now, that I can’t be trusted to walk in the backyard.
“Sure thing,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. I admire the trees surrounding the house as I turn the corner. Wow, the view from the back yard is spectacular. Trees continue to flank the house, merging into the natural woods on both sides. The backyard itself is clear of trees, giving a straight shot of the ocean view beyond the huge infinity pool. I sit on the swing mounted to the back porch. I can’t believe my parents didn’t want to live here year round. This place was beautiful. And I’d be willing to bet money that the pool is heated. Maybe it hadn’t been cleaned to Mom’s satisfaction yet, and that’s why she didn’t want me to leave the porch. I snort, shaking my head at the idea. Taking a deep breath, I let the stress of the trip slip away. This view alone was worth the flight and the ferry ride. I slowly rock back and forth letting the sparkling water mesmerize me.
I vaguely hear a door open behind me. “Emilienne, what are you doing out here.” Mom asks, breaking me out of my trance.
“Just enjoying the view, Mom. I’ll be in in a few minutes.” I tell her, trying to keep my patience.
“Well the pantry is empty, so I’m going to order Italian to be delivered for dinner. Do you have any requests?”
I shake my head. “Whatever you’re in the mood for will be fine.” She doesn’t answer, just closes the door. I sigh, wrapping my arms around my waist. I wish she wouldn’t ask me what I wanted to eat. At home I had to eat whatever the cook sent out. Unless I asked what it was, most of the dishes were a mystery. I don’t know enough about the options to really give an opinion.
What’s worse is I still don’t feel a connection with her. The psychiatrist said it would take time. I know she’s trying, but we just don’t seem to be operating on the same wavelength. None of the things that she talks about seem important to me. I don’t have any interest in designer clothes or fancy society events. I tried. I looked up the designers, read about the events in the society pages, it just all seemed so… hollow. But I can’t tell her that, so I just smile and nod and let her talk at me about her interests.
With a mental shake, I stand up. As I turn towards the door, I notice a sparkle from the corner of my eye. Oh no. Please don’t tell me the flashes of light are spreading to objects now too. I turn towards the far end of the porch, looking for something that could have caused the sparkling. In the corner is a large oval clear crystal. Furrowing my brow, I move closer. Why would someone just leave this here? Leaning down, I pick it up, gasping at the ripple of energy that rolls over my skin. What the hell?!? I’ve never had a reaction to an object before. People yes, inanimate objects no. I let it fall back to the ground and rub my hand against my leg, trying to dispel the tingling in my hand. Ugh, it had to come from somewhere. I look around, my eyes landing on an empty planter attached to the porch rail. Peeking inside, I see it’s full of similar crystals in multiple colors. Knowing what to expect this time, I scoop up the crystal and toss it in the planter. Shivering, I try shaking the extra energy off my hand. Not perfect, but it seemed to help more that rubbing my hand. And that’s enough excitement for one day.
“You’ve got about a half hour till dinner arrives,” Mom calls out as I open the back door. “Why don’t you take your bag up to your room? The rest of our things should arrive tomorrow, but you can get a head start on unpacking. Second floor, at the top of the stairs, turn right and it’s the last door.
“Sure that sounds great Mom,” I say heading out to the hall. Mom must have brought my bag in, because it was sitting at the foot of the stairs. I grab it and head upstairs. All the doors in the hall are shut, so I head straight towards the room mom indicated.
Opening the door I’m hit by an explosion of Barbie pink. Wow… just wow. The white washed wood bedframe, nightstand, desk and dressing table contrasted against pink walls. Complete with a pink canopy and a pink bedspread on the bed. It’s like a five year old’s dream… Maybe Mom really does think I’m five again. I drag my bag inside and toss it on the bed. Now that the shock of the color has worn off, I realize that except for the color, the room is identical to my other bedroom. Even the furniture is exactly the same. Who knew wall color could make such a huge difference. But with the bright pink instead of the relaxing lavender and sage, it felt like a completely different room. I wonder if she’ll let me paint it. I’m not sure I can handle this much pink every day.
Now that I can think, I take a closer look. Just like my other room, this one is also bare of personality. No toys, no books, no knickknacks, nothing personal. There are two open doors in the room, but I’m already sure I know where they lead. Peeking inside, I see the same exact bathroom I was used to, right down to the massive claw foot bathtub and the large separate shower complete with built in benches… you know, in case you get tired while you shower. The other door opens into the walk in closet, although this one is slightly different. There is a window with a window seat here, instead of the chaise lounge in my old closet. It had the same Real Housewives style cabinetry and shelves but in white this time, including the built in center case/dresser with a glass top so you could admire the jewelry you decided not to wear. Why would I have needed a closet like this as a child? At least this closet is free of ugly sack dresses. That’s a blessing at least. And since I’d left all the designer sack dresses in my closet back home, I was looking at a sack free future. I only packed the new clothes I’d picked out for myself.
The doorbell rings in the distance. I set aside the mystery of my parent’s strange decorating choices. As much as I hate it, I’m not surprised at the lack of personality in this room. It’s déjà vu of my arrival home from the hospital. Beautiful rooms with no personality. With a sigh, I head downstairs to get another awkward dinner out of the way.
Sunday, August 16th
∞
Mom kept us running the first week here. Getting registered for school, finding local doctors, visiting the mainland, buying me a car to use on the island, and a surprise trip to the salon to try and convince me to change my hair. I refused to get out of the car at the salon. It’s harder for a stylist to ambush me with a pair of scissors to force a change when you’re locked behind a car door. Hmm, it’s possible I have trust issues. I’ll have to ask the psychiatrist.
Today Mom decided it was the day to join a church. She’d wanted me to go with her, but there is no way I’m ready to be around that many people yet. I’m still not sure how I’ll make it through school, no point in pushing things before I have too. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t fight me about it. Instead she accepted my explanation that I wasn’t ready to be in that large a crowd yet.
Putting on a one piece swimsuit, I grab a towel and my Kindle. I’d decided I needed to get some sun before school starts next week. Today seemed like the perfect day to read in the sun.
I detour to snag a bottle of water before heading outside. The temperature is perfect today in the mid-80s. Not too hot, not too cold. Great weather for lying out on a lounge chair and working on my tan. I’d found a couple books on Amazon that talk about energy that I wanted to read. I was hoping to find something to help me block out other people enough for me to make it through school.
Stepping out onto the porch, I set my things down on the swing; I mentally prepare myself to check the corner. Earlier in the week, I’d found six of the crystals laid out in a pattern on the porch. I put them away before my Mom saw them; she has been even more high strung since we’d arrived, far worse than when I was released from the hospital. No point in having her worry about kids in the yard. I don’t know why they would want to come all the way over here to play with these crystals. Surely they must have better toys at home. Whatever the reason, I’d taken to checking them every day. The weird energy effect from the crystals was so much worse when having to touch six of them. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s unsettling, like my whole body is lit up from the inside. It had taken hours for me to feel normal again the last time I had to put them away. If I had to put them away, I wanted to be ready, and hopefully these books were going to give me some tips. I take a deep breath and look over. And they’ve been at it again. This time they’d made a pattern in the clear crystals, instead of the green and clear combination they’d done last time.
I look at them but decide to stay away for now. I want to get some reading done before I get close to them. They can hang out there till I’m ready for the practical testing. I head down the stairs towards the pool. Choosing one of the chaise lounge chairs in the sun, I spread my towel over it before lying down on my stomach. I open my Kindle and load up the first book I’d downloaded. Hopefully I’d find some help here.
Skimming through a couple of the books, I focus on the chapters that look like they’d be the most helpful. I finally found one that talked about defending against psychic attacks and creating a defensive wall. While I’m not sure I believe there is a huge risk of psychic attacks out there, if it helps me keep out the emotions bleeding off everyone… Well I’ll consider it a win.
Something Stolen, Something Found (The Magic Catalyst Chronicles Book 1) Page 4
