by Genna Denton
Chapter Six: Analysis
Sitting on her bed, Carmen wiped tears from her eyes and looked over the list Renee had given her.
No clothes with strings.
No denim. Track pants and pajama pants without strings are acceptable.
Shoes must be of the slip-on variety or have laces removed.
No cell phones, iPods, or other electronic devices.
No tank tops.
No medication. This will be provided.
Skirts must be knee-length.
If you wish to bring your own personal hygiene products, they must be left at the nurse’s station. You can ask for the items as needed.
No spiral notebooks.
No razors, hair-removal cream only.
The list was ridiculous. What did that “rehab center” think she’d do? Strangle herself with shoestrings? Surely nobody was that desperate. Mumbling under her breath about how stupid this entire situation was, she reached under her bed and pulled out a duffel bag. She went through her drawers and closet, pulling out all the pajama pants that met the requirements. Her favorite pair, the navy blue ones with yellow stars and moons on them, had a drawstring, but she pulled it out. Her mother had bought them for her and there was no way she was leaving without them.
Along with some t-shirts, she packed shampoo, conditioner, and body wash, her diary—no spiral there—and took a picture of her mother out of the frame and tucked it into the side pocket. It was only after she zipped her bag, draped it over a shoulder, and went downstairs to tell Renée she was ready that she stopped to think. As she looked at Renee, tall, lean and frigid-looking standing by the fireplace with her arms wrapped tight around her middle, reality sank in and Carmen realized she was being sent away, to a facility for crazy people.
As they walked out to the car and Carmen climbed into the back seat, she decided she’d never forgive Renee for this. Even if it was what was best for her, she’d never get over it. What she needed—what would fix her—was something no one could give. Her mother. Because, unlike on television shows and soap operas, people never come back from the dead. Death lasted forever.
***
Kay lingered outside the group meeting room, reluctant to go inside. She was afraid Alex had told Daphne and Brett what he saw on Saturday, and that Daphne would corner her about why she was really there.
Shaking her nervousness aside, she pulled open the door to see the rest of the group already sitting quietly in the circle. She walked over to her chair and sat down, glancing at Alex for only a split-second.
“Before we start.” Daphne pulled a white envelope out of her purse. “I wanted you guys to know that Carmen’s sister and I checked Carmen into a mental health facility yesterday. She’s in a very…fragile…state right now and I think she’d appreciate it if you showed some support. So, I’ve bought this card that I’m going to pass around if anybody wants to sign it.” She took a card out of the envelope and handed it and a pen to Meagan, who was sitting next to her.
“What happened?” Meagan asked as she scribbled something inside the card.
“I’m not really allowed to go into details. All I can say is that she’s having a rough time dealing with her mother’s death.”
“Do you think we could go visit her?” Meagan passed the card to Ryder.
Daphne smiled. “That would be nice. I’ll let you know when she’s allowed to have visitors.” Then, she looked around the rest of the group. “So, would anybody like to start off today’s session?” Like usual, there were no volunteers. She looked at Kay. “Anything you want to share with us, Kay?”
“Nope, I’ve reached my sharing capacity for today.” A couple people in the group snickered. Brett gave Daphne a look.
“Well, how are you today?” Brett asked.
“Fine, anything else you’d like to know?”
“Why don’t we talk about the real reason you’re here?” Brett asked.
Kay scoffed. “Do we have to?” Uncomfortable underneath their compassionate gazes, she stood up and crossed her arms. She didn’t know whether to sit or stand, so she casually walked around the room. At least she meant it to be casual, but it turned out to be more of a pace.
“Well, why do you think you’re here?” Brett asked.
“Are you just gonna ask the same questions in different ways till you get your answer?” Kay shot back.
Brett laughed. “I guess so. I’m a therapist; it is my job.”
“My teacher caught me throwing away empty liquor bottles after lunch a few weeks ago.”
“So you were drinking?”
Kay shrugged, feeling everybody looking at her. She didn’t know if they were or not; she was afraid to check. “Yeah, is that bad?”
“Depends on why you were doing it.”
She started fidgeting again and took a deep breath. Still restless, she returned to her seat. “I was just doing it.”
“At school.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t usually drink…at all.”
“But you do sometimes?”
“Yeah, it’s not like I’m an alcoholic, but sometimes.”
“Do you like to drink?” Brett asked.
“Who doesn’t?” Kay asked with an indifferent shrug. Couldn’t he find someone else to pick on? What about Gage? He could sure use a lot more psycho-analyzing than she could.
Brett made an “hmm” noise and wrote down on his paper.
“Okay, what are you writing?” Kay asked.
“I’m just taking notes.” Brett looked up from the paper and began to chew on the end of his pen. “Let’s talk about your parents.”
“Right. My parents.” Kay sighed, feeling the urge to stand again, but he’d probably just analyze that, too. “They’re not getting divorced like I said they were…” She leaned back in her seat and brought her left foot into her lap, picking at the sole of her sneaker.
“What’s your dad do for a living?” Brett asked.
Kay sneered. Tortures people. “He was a drill sergeant in the army until he got hurt in Iraq about five or six years ago.” She shifted in her seat. “Now, he just sits at home all the time moaning about how terrible his life is. Mom’s the one who works. She’s an audit person or whatever for the IRS, so she’s gone a lot sometimes.”
“So you and your dad are alone a lot?” Brett pried, and already Kay could tell this wouldn’t lead to a good place.
She sighed. “Were you and your dad alone a lot?” she said defensively. “I don’t need this psychobabble.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Brett said.
“No, because there’s just an even more annoying one looming on the horizon!” She sighed and looked around the room, her gaze landing on Alex. He was watching her, his brow arched as if he might finally be putting things together. Great, she thought. “This was a mistake.” Kay fought the urge to cry, although she didn’t know why she wanted to cry. She just knew she wasn’t going to let these people see her do it. She grabbed her purse from the floor and swung it onto her shoulder, gripping the strap tightly. She headed for the door.
Nobody tried to stop her. She’d been sure someone would protest or ask where she was going, and it made her wonder if that’s what she wanted. Maybe they saw through her. She stopped and turned. Looking straight at Brett, she said, “I’m totally screwed up, right?”
“It’s probably too early for me to guess,” Brett replied.
“Right, take care.” She shook her head and opened the door.
“But, if I were to gamble,” he said, walking slowly toward her. “I’d say that the sarcastic and cold exterior hides a frightened and isolated young woman whose relationship with her parents has damaged her in ways she hasn’t even begun to cope with. When the child becomes the parent, it can cause a young person to search for love and attention in all the wrong places. This may explain your relationship with alcohol and a best friend whose feelings for you prevent him from actually taking a healthy step to help you. Of course, that works ou
t great for you because he keeps your secrets and gives you comfort without you ever having to fully return his affection…but all that’s just psychobabble.”
She glanced around the room, seeing that everybody, including Daphne, looked impressed. Kay had to admit she was a little impressed too; the way he made things sound, maybe there was a method to her madness. “I’ll stay,” she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “But let’s talk about somebody else for a while.”
Brett smiled. “Okay,” he said, returning to his seat.
***
“What about Kelly?” Daphne offered, turning her attention to the girl. “We’ve been at this for about six weeks now, and I’m no closer to knowing what’s going on with you now than I was on day one.” A look of sympathy and compassion washed over her face as she attempted to reach out. “We can’t help you if you’re not willing to be helped.”
Kelly sighed and cleared her throat. “Do I have to?”
“You might feel better if you do.”
“I—” she started, but something made her stop. She glanced at Gage for reassurance, and he nodded, encouraging her to continue. Looking at Alex, she saw he seemed nervous, like she might spill everything. Maybe she could tell the story and leave his name out of it. The last thing she needed was to stir up a bunch of drama like that time Ryder and Gage had almost gotten into a fight. Returning her gaze to Daphne, Kelly took a deep breath and said, “I had an abortion.”
The whole room turned to her, and Alex’s face shifted into an expression of panic. Daphne’s mouth dropped open a little in the slightest hint of shock.
“Oh,” she said. For the first time in six weeks, it looked like Daphne didn’t know what say. “What brought you to make that decision?”
A few tears slid down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away. “It was about seven months ago. He decided it would be better if—if I didn’t have the baby. I didn’t really want to.” She fell quiet. “Actually, I don’t know what I wanted. I never got the chance to think about it.”
“Kelly…that must have been so hard.” Daphne stood up. “You’ve given me a very good idea.” She moved across the room, grabbed a folding chair from the wall, and placed it in the middle of the circle. She rested her hands on the back of it and looked at Kelly. “This is something they made us to do in college. Pretend the person who hurt you the most is right here. Talk to that person.”
Kelly looked at Daphne, then the empty chair, and then behind it to Alex. “I don’t have to pretend. He is here.”
Daphne looked confused as she scanned the room. Alex shifted in his seat, looking at the wall, the clock, the chair, anywhere but at Kelly.
“It’s Alex,” she said. “Alex made me have the abortion. Alex ruined my life.”
Alex looked down, suddenly fascinated by the area rug.
“Her?” Kay blurted out. “It was Kelly?”
What? He told Kay? Kelly thought.
“Oh…okay,” Daphne said slowly. “Well, Kelly, tell Alex how you feel…”
Kelly sighed and took a deep breath. She didn’t really want to do this, but there was so much pent up anger, aggression, betrayal that it just spilled out. “I trusted you. My entire life, you were the one person I could count on. I don’t even…I don’t even have the words to describe how badly you hurt me.” A defiant tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “I thought we had it all figured out…I’d get the abortion, we’d work through it together, and then have the future we always planned on having. But you took all that from me. I don’t know what hurts worse, you dumping me or you trying to make things right now! It’s like…you think you can just waltz in six months after destroying my life and make everything okay. Like nothing ever happened.”
“Kelly, it’s not…it wasn’t like that, okay?” Alex said, his voice sounding desperate, yet again.
“Oh, it’s exactly like that,” Kelly said.
“No, it’s not. If you would just let me—”
“If you say explain, I swear I’m gonna scream,” Kelly cut him off.
“Well if you would just let me explain!”
“How can you explain something like that?”
It was like a verbal ping-pong game; before Alex could finish a sentence Kelly would cut in.
“You’re so pathetic!” Kay’s outburst caught everybody by surprise, and Kelly looked over at her, surprised to see Kay’s anger aimed toward her and not Alex. “You’re the one who let him talk you into something you didn’t want to do. You’re the one who let him treat you like a doormat. You could’ve told somebody—you could have gone to your mom or the guidance counselor or something, but instead, you just let him hurt you.”
The passion behind Kay’s words, the intensity of the hatred in her eyes, made Kelly wonder if she was lashing out at herself more than she was at Kelly.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Daphne said, standing up and holding her hands up to keep the peace. “Kay has a point. There’s a certain amount of responsibility that falls on your shoulders, but we don’t have to focus on that right now. Kelly, you said your piece. Alex obviously has something he would like to say to you.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“He listened to you, so you should show him the same courtesy,” Daphne said. She took a deep breath and turned to Alex. “Go ahead and say what you wanted to say, Alex.”
“It wasn’t as black and white as you want to believe. It killed me to hurt you like that. It killed me to say all the things I said to make you…I couldn’t stand that inconsolable look on your face, and I knew I put it there. I’m the one who did this to you and I’m the reason you’re having such a hard time, and it kills me.”
It hurt him? Was all Kelly could think, and she didn’t know whether to be surprised or just disgusted.
After a minute of silence, it became clear that Kelly wasn’t going to respond, so Daphne said, “Alex, is there anything else you want to tell Kelly? Like maybe why you did what you did.”
Alex leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”
Daphne sighed as she looked around the group of teenagers. “Anybody else want to say anything to the chair?” She turned to Brett and laughed. “There’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say.”
***
After the meeting, Alex hurried to catch up to Kay. “Kay,” he called after her loudly; he noticed it caught Kelly’s attention. He wished he had the time to enjoy the jealous look that came over Kelly’s face.
He wanted her to wonder what he was doing and who he was doing it with, wanted to make her feel as humiliated as she’d just made him feel, but right now he just wanted to help his friend. When he got within arm’s length of Kay, he reached out and gently grabbed her arm. “Kay, would you stop for a second? I know what’s going on with you.”
“You don’t know anything.” Kay whirled around so fast, her body almost slammed into his.
“You know what? Brett was right!” Alex exclaimed, and then looked around him to make sure nobody was listening. In a quieter voice he said, “You are scared.”
“What do I have to be scared of?”
“Whoever’s hurting you.”
Kay rolled her eyes and started walking again, and he followed.
“You can’t pretend I didn’t see the bruises all over you, and you can’t blame it on the alcohol. I know what I saw, Kay.”
“Okay, fine, but I don’t care what you saw.” She barged out the doors of the discover-u center and into the night.
“Maybe you’re just scared that somebody might actually want to be with you,” Alex said.
She scoffed and turned to face him again. “Be with me?” Kay said in disbelief. She took slow and steady steps toward him as she spoke. “Let me tell you something, Alex, plenty of somebodies have wanted to be with me and guess what? They all disappeared the next morning, just like you would have. Don’t pretend like you would’ve been any different.” She pivoted and strod
e away.
“That’s not how it was, Kay!” he called after her, but she just kept walking away from him, to face whatever danger had bruised her.
***
Gage turned his car onto Hampton Street, Southport’s version of Rodeo Drive, and looked at the expensive, looming brick houses that lined the Home and Garden-looking neighborhood. Not a thing had changed since Gage moved out. He slowed to a stop in front of his parents’ house and parked the car at the edge of the sidewalk. As he looked up at his former home, a piece of him wished hestill lived here and not in his rinky-dink little apartment. But he knew he was better off on his own, even if it was unbearably difficult at times. He turned his head to look at Lizzie. “You ready to go see Grandma and Grandpa?”
Lizzie cooed as Gage freed her from the car seat restraints. He walked up the sidewalk, wanting to take as long as possible, to delay this for just a little while, but soon, he arrived at the front door. Reaching out, he pushed the doorbell.
Within seconds, a short, older woman with grey hair opened the door. Gage didn’t recognize her, but he figured she was the housekeeper. His mother never kept help around the house for very long; she’d always find excuses to fire people. Finally, she’d just given up on having a full-time maid and instead, hired a housekeeper to come over every few days. “I’m looking for Olivia,” Gage told the woman when she raised a curious eyebrow at him. “Is she here?”
“Yes, come in.” The woman stepped aside and Gage moved into the foyer.
“Who should I say is here?”
“Just tell her it’s Lizzie,” he said, and the woman turned into the kitchen off the left of the foyer, leaving Gage to look around the home he used to have.
The house was made of spacious, open rooms that his mother had decorated with paintings by artists whose names Gage couldn’t even pronounce, and slick, hardwood floors waxed so often he’d slip if he wasn’t careful. Thick, heavy drapes donned every tall window and each room had its own color scheme, with carefully chosen shades to complement each other. Suede and tan in the parlor, lilac and lavender in the hallways, melon green and jade for the kitchen, mahogany and burgundy in the study. The colors crashed violently or blended smoothly, always with aesthetic results. Still, even with the carefully crafted beauty, there was an undeniable coldness looming in the house, as if she’d put all that work in just to hide how ugly things really were.
