Paper Dolls [Book Five]

by Blythe Stone

  “Oh well?” She asked, obviously peeved.

  “What? What am I supposed to do, coddle him?”

  “No,” she scoffed. “But you can at least try to understand him.”

  “Right, like he’s tried so hard with me?”

  “He has tried,” she said.

  Not lately though, that was for sure.

  “Right, like when he repeatedly chased me out of his labs and made fun of me in front of his subordinates.”

  “At work he has to be the boss,” my mother said. “If he’s soft with you in front of them, they’ll think he’s soft.”

  “Okay, that’s bullshit,” I said. How was I supposed to figure that out? “And it’s not like he ever apologized for the way he treated me every time I was there. He made jokes about females being incompetent in labs. Not just females Mom, me.”

  “He’s not quick like you,” she said. “Not as quick. He makes mistakes.”

  I wasn’t about to be soft on him.

  “He never talked to me after that. And every time I brought it up he got mad.”

  “Of course he got mad, he was upset with himself. Your father has too much anger. His family wasn’t exactly a walk in the park.”

  I couldn’t decipher how we got into this conversation but it made me feel hard like a stone. The more I talked to them the more I realized I was the biggest asshole of all time.

  “Have I just been this annoying thing in your life for years now?”

  “What?” She gasped, upset. She pulled the car off onto the dirt and parked it. “Why would you even say that?” She asked.

  “I dunno,” I said. “It sorta feels like it’s true. I’ve just been this quiet thing driving you both insane.”

  “That’s not true Olivia,” she said, shaking her head. When she turned to look at me I could see she had tears in her eyes. “You’re our pride,” she said, lips pursing as her head tilted back just a bit. “You’ve always been four steps ahead of us. Just out of our reach. We couldn’t catch up with you. You’re not meant to be caught.”

  I sat back in the chair and felt small. I didn't know what that meant.

  It was a weird thing to hear right now. Wasn’t being married being caught?

  “Please, never think that. It’s not true,” she said, softening, calming.

  “Okay,” I said. It always felt true though, even more so now that I knew even more.

  I had such guilt.

  It wasn’t fair.

  My mom put the car back in drive and pulled out.

  The rest of the way to the house we didn’t much talk. I rambled a bit about how I wanted to live here and just paint.

  I hurt my mom’s feelings. I could feel it. I wounded her.

  She wasn’t one for silence. She usually couldn’t shut up.

  The drive to the house hurt me more than anything else. I’d been wrong...

  When she pulled into a drive I knew already the place would be nice. The large copper gate was intricate and it had horses as its main feature. My mom punched a code into the box and the gate slid open allowing us entry as the tires crunched on rocks.

  There was plenty of room for cars and people. The drive ran long and it was mostly grass lined with large trees and a white pebbled road.

  She parked at the front and got out.

  “Come on,” she said. I’d hovered outside the car looking out at the water. The view even from the drive was insane. My heart pounded.

  Inside was even better.

  I could see it all here, every bit. There’d be people drinking champagne, a few chefs in the kitchen making endless tapas. There’d be talk and laughter. People would be happy here. I could tell.

  The inside had large wall-sized windows on the entire ocean-lined side. We were high-up and it was beyond beautiful, simply epic.

  “Come on,” she said, holding her hand out. I took it and let her lead me up the stairs.

  There were plenty of rooms, plenty of places to be.

  My mother took me back to the master bedroom though just to show me. Up here it was even more impressive. I stood at the windows and looked out. Looking out was like seeing the whole world.

  “Back here,” she said, motioning for me to come to another door.

  When I looked in I saw a luxurious bathroom.

  “You can stay here, after everyone leaves,” she said. The bath was so large and it had jets. Up above the ceiling was clear and you could see the sky and the bits of the trees. “You won’t have much time for a honeymoon given the trial and graduation.”

  “Summer,” I said, dazed, not wanting to think about all that.

  The court date had been set. It was coming, impending.

  My mom walked past me and I followed her back down the stairs.

  The house sort of went in little half levels, down and down and down, flowing naturally along the top of the cliff-side.

  We walked through the rooms and straight out to the doors that led out.

  There was a large stone courtyard and a fancy stone fire-pit in the center. Then there were more stairs and we took them further down.

  Grass, lots of grass. We walked through it and got closer and closer to the edge.

  “What do you think? Can you see it?” My mom asked, turning around.

  “I think it’s perfect,” I huffed, overwhelmed, feeling nothing except disbelief. Behind my mother was the drop-off. Then, nothing else but the sky. Below, the water, the tumultuous dark. It was just like I said, just like I imagined. Big Sur, on a cliff.

  I could see us here. Us two. The Earth, the water, and the sky. The two of us… The fire.

  I would marry her here… Right here.

  I had to concentrate hard on standing. If my mother wasn’t here I’d just fall to the ground and sit and stay for a very long time.

  “Then it’s yours,” my mom said, walking close and touching my arm.

  She pushed my hair from my face and took in my stern face.

  “You’re in shock,” she said.

  “It’s all so fast, isn’t it?” I asked, vulnerable.

  “It is,” she said. “But it’s right.”

  “It is right,” I said, knowing it was.

  I couldn’t imagine not doing it. Not doing it would break me apart.

  My mom pulled me gently in for a hug and held me for a while. I felt the strong wind pushing at us as I absently clung on to her thinking of how it would be. I was too emotional for my own good.

  “You get to be happy,” she said.

  The words were almost musical. I took them inside, cradled them. I kept them safe.

  Chapter 13

  Avery

  When I got to Vivianne’s office it was right at five and I knew I’d probably have to wait. I went up to the receptionist and told her who I was. She pointed at the chairs around and told me to sit anywhere. It wasn’t like I thought it would be. There wasn’t a cold, clinical feel about the place. It was warm and wood and cozy. I still felt on edge. There was a white cat sitting in a little cat bed on the far side of the room. I wanted to go pet it but I didn’t dare get up.

  The sharp knife of my anxiety poked at each rib, threatening to put holes in my fast beating heart. My leg bounced up and down after I sat down. The chair was a nice leather one, very comfy. The art on the walls looked real. Not like those stupid prints that most offices had. There were no inspirational words or generic ducks on any of them.

  “They’re great, aren’t they?”

  My head whipped around to see the receptionist looking at me.

  “Yeah… They are,” I replied.

  “They’re all by local artists or Vivianne. She’s an amazing painter,” the woman said.

  “Oh, yeah? They’re nice. Better than the usual stuff you see in places like this.”

  The phone rang, taking the woman’s attention away. I was left to pull up my hood and look around in peace. I kept staring at the clock above her head and wondering what Olivia was doing.

  Avery: I h
ate waiting

  Olivia: I hate not waiting with you…

  Avery: You’re too sweet. Stop. I’m spoiled.

  Olivia: Shhh… You know I live to spoil you. I wish I was holding your hand right now.

  Avery: Me too because it’s really cold and shaky. I don’t like doctors or psychologists. I don’t like waiting rooms. I always feel like they have gross germs everywhere. Though, this one is the nicest I’ve been in. What’s she like. Should I be scared?

  I was just rambling now, trying to stop the freeze that my brain wanted to instill in me. If it worked I wouldn’t be able to talk at all and this would be a waste of time. Though, I got the idea from Olivia that it was all a waste for her anyway. Maybe it would be different.

  Olivia: She was really nice Avery. I just have a problem with being analyzed and called out. I get all defensive. I just couldn’t take much away from it is all. That’s all my shit though. We are very different… Now I really wish I was holding your hand. I didn’t know it made you so uncomfortable. I never would’ve left today if I knew.

  Avery: No, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad, please. I’m good. Texting you is helping. How was lunch?

  I did wish she was here but that would be true of anytime that I was somewhere that she wasn’t. This was something I needed to do by myself. It was me facing the fear and horror that had been my life. My nerves usually didn’t get the best of me but nothing about this was comfortable. It was raw and penetrating.

  Olivia: Lunch was alright. We’ve had a few tears today. I feel like an asshole basically.

  Avery: I want to hear more about this later but in person. I want to kiss you right now. I’m sorry you feel like an asshole.

  Olivia: I just wonder when I’m ever going to have a day that isn’t emotionally draining…

  Avery: It’ll happen. I promise. Gotta go. The door is open and there’s a woman that must be Vivianne. …. What the hell. Is it me or does she look familiar?

  Olivia: I know… She looks like Rachael Taylor, yeah?

  Avery: Yeah. Yikes. Anyway, love you. See you after.

  Olivia: Good luck, baby. Oh, apparently she’s gay too. My mom told me today. F.Y.I. XoXo

  Vivianne was hot. I hadn’t expected it, really. Even though I’d been warned. I stood up as she got close to me.

  “Avery?” She asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, sticking my hands in my hoodie pocket.

  “It’s nice to meet you.” She held out a hand and I waited for a second before I removed my hand from my pocket. I didn’t really want to touch her with my cold, clammy hand.

  I wiped my right hand on the inside of my hoodie and took it out and clasped her hand.

  “You too.”

  “Come on back and we can get started,” she said.

  I followed her back to this room. There were lamps everywhere. I felt like I was in someone’s living room. It was different. It was strange. Nothing like the therapist I’d been to before.

  “How are you doing today?” Vivianne asked.

  I just shrugged and kept looking around. I liked the decor. The fireplace behind me was nice. I kind of wished it was lit.

  “Fine. Just another day,” I told her.

  “Ah, so you had a good day?”

  “It was good at the beginning. My fiancé took me to breakfast after swim practice. I had a gap before class.”

  “That sounds nice. I got to meet Olivia already. Did you have a nice time?”

  Why was she asking me this? It seemed like so much small talk.

  “Yeah, it was good. We hung out after,” I shrugged again and sniffed.

  “Well, why don’t we get to it?” She asked, cycling through some papers.

  I nodded and waited for her to start. I didn’t know what to say. I just wanted to go home.

  “Tell me about what happens when you have episodes,” she requested.

  “I freak out. I can’t tell what’s going on and I feel just panic and fear. The worst one was when my friend Skylar and I were talking and all of the sudden I couldn’t even remember where I was or what I was doing. I didn’t recognize her and I felt like I was being chased so I tried to go find Olivia but she wasn’t where I went and then she found me.”

  “Ah, and what did you and Skylar talk about?” Vivianne asked. “It’s okay if it’s hard to tell me. Just try.”

  “It’s not hard,” I said. It wasn’t. After the fact, the fear wore off some. I didn’t like talking about it but I could. “Skylar was asking me all of these questions. She has feelings for me and she said something about why Ben and not her.”

  “And what was your answer?” Vivianne asked.

  “I honestly don’t remember. It was about that time that the walls started to close in on me.”

  “And that’s typical of one of your episodes?”

  “I guess, yeah. I don’t remember a lot.”

  These questions were coming one after the other and I had no time to even think before answering. It had to be a ploy of some sort. They weren’t bad questions. They just came with no real feeling attached.

  “What about your earlier episodes?” She asked. “What were they like in comparison?”

  Olivia could tell her what they were like more than I could but I suppose she was looking for how they made me feel rather than what actually happened.

  “I feel like there is no space around me and I’m going to suffocate and then I run. I haven’t done that the last few times though because I know it ends up worse than if I stay.”

  I played with the drawstrings of my hood and sighed.

  “Sometimes I get hurt. Once I ended up swimming halfway across a lake and another time I ended up running into this fence on accident. I scare Olivia more than anything else.”

  “Had you ever had one of these episodes before you met her?”

  “Yeah, but they weren’t as intense. The more distance I got from Ben the worse they got. I think it just all caught up with me.”

  “And how do you try to cope when it happens?”

  “I told you. I run. Usually away but last time I ran to where I thought Olivia was.”

  “Well, there are some tools that I can pass along to try and help you stay in the moment. That’s what’s happening isn’t it? You’re going back and feeling the things that happened during your trauma?”

  “I guess.”

  I didn’t want tools. I wanted it to go away but if this was all she could offer I would listen. I would try.

  “First, slow down your breathing and try to pay attention to your breathing through the day. Especially when you’re feeling anxious. While you’re doing that you could try to relax the muscles of your body. Don’t be upset if it’s hard for you to do these things in the moment. Give yourself time.”

  I nodded along with each suggestion and knew I wouldn’t remember. She had her legs crossed and she was sitting back in her big leather chair. Instead of her words I started to focus on the way her mouth moved.

  “You can also try grounding yourself. Touch some nearby objects and describe their texture and how they feel to you. It doesn’t sound like you’re having too much trouble avoiding school so that’s good.”

  She wrote something down and I noticed how fancy her pen was. Maybe she got it when she graduated. She couldn’t have been doing this for too long. She seemed so young, not much older than I was.

  “How old are you?” I asked her.

  It was an utterly inappropriate question and she stopped just as she was about to say something, her mouth open. She recovered pretty quickly though.

  “Twenty-five,” she answered.

  “Oh.” I coughed. I didn’t even think she’d be that young. It seemed strange. “I just always imagine therapists as middle age people.”

  “Well, we all have to start somewhere,” she laughed.

  “You’re right. I’m just being dumb,” I said.

  “You’re not dumb. It’s natural to have that kind of question and reaction. I know I don’t exactly
look like most people’s idea of a qualified therapist but I assure you. I attended Wellesley for undergrad and then I graduated with my PsyD. from Stanford and I’ve had extensive clinical experience.”

  “No worries,” I said, waving her off. “I wasn’t questioning your schooling or anything. It just struck me as different for you to be younger.”

  Honestly, I’d rather embarrass myself like this than talk about my whacked out brain.