Chapter 30
Finn
I ’ ve been a goddamn asshole.
I know I have.
Everyone at work knows it, Gabriella knows it, and the girls probably know it too, even though I have tried my best to hide
it when they’re around.
And, worst of all, Millie knows it.
I walked into that meeting on Tuesday with every intention of pretending to be a pleasant person, but she wouldn’t even look
at me. She wouldn’t let me see those mossy-green eyes that have become my favorite color in the world.
So I couldn’t force myself on her. I couldn’t sit next to her, because if Millie won’t smile at me, she must think I’m an
asshole. And the world is a dim, dark place without that smile.
Plopping onto the couch in Dr. Kline’s office, I survey all the whites and creams in the dreary morning haze streaming through
the window. This couch is soft enough to be comfortable but not enough to tempt me into a nap.
Sometimes it’s hard to know how to sit here. Do I spread my thighs and slouch the way I naturally would? Do I sit up as straight
as I can like this is an interview?
Dr. Kline crosses his legs as he settles in the chair across from me and tucks his gray cardigan under his notebook. He clears his throat and opens his pen, eyeing me as I fidget into a relaxed position.
Slouching and comfortable it is.
“How have you been since our last visit?” he asks with a warm smile.
“Well, things were going okay until this week, honestly. There are a few big changes I wanted to talk about if that’s okay.”
Our last visit was two weeks ago, so a lot has shifted since then in terms of my relationship with Millie.
“Anything you want to talk about is perfect. I don’t have an agenda,” he reassures me.
I have no idea why I’m nervous to bring up Millie. He’s never given me any reason to believe he’s judging a single thing I
say.
“I’ve been starting a relationship with someone,” I start as he nods.
“That’s great. How is it going?”
“I think I’m struggling to balance my time. Things with Millie changed over the last couple weeks, and I’m worried about neglecting
the girls in the process.”
“Has something happened to make you feel like there’s an imbalance?”
I recount the events of the night on the overlook, being as honest as I can without divulging all the details, but I’m sure
he can read between the lines.
“I see.” He makes a note before setting his pen down. “What do you think Clara would say if you were asking her for advice
about your relationship with Millie?”
I try to imagine calling my big sister for relationship advice and almost laugh at the absurdity of it. “That wasn’t something
I did normally, but I think I could talk to her about Millie. Clara would like her.” Dr. Kline’s eye contact encourages me
to continue. “She would be excited for me and probably tease me about it as much as possible.”
“I agree. I think she would be happy for you.”
Nodding, I fold my hands in my lap. “How do I learn to balance my time between Millie and the girls? How do I let go of the
guilt I feel when I spend time away from them?”
He tilts his head. “Did Millie give you any reason to believe she’s upset about the division of your time?”
“No, never. She has spent a lot of time with all three of us and frequently talked about how excited she was to see the girls.”
“Do you think that if you spoke to her about balancing your time, she would be supportive?”
The answer is as clear as the window in front of me. Obviously, Millie would be supportive. “She would be helpful and understanding.”
“It sounds like she’s someone you can trust with a conversation like this,” he says. “Do you think your frustration with yourself
has anything to do with the amount of attention your parents paid you and Clara as children? I believe part of your fear here
might be that you will become the kind of caregiver your parents were.”
The reality of those words makes my stomach sour. “Yeah.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “Clara left me responsible
for her girls, and I would never want to disappoint her by acting like our parents.”
He hums in understanding. “Let me start by saying that worrying about how you’re doing as the girls’ caregiver already makes
you a good one. You’ll be able to handle this because you’re concerned and talking to people to solve it. Clara knew you well
enough to know you would do that. She didn’t trust you with her girls because she thought you would be perfect. She trusted
you because she knew you would do your absolute best. That’s all we can offer anyone in our lives—not perfection, but the
promise of doing the best we can.”
His words are echoing the ones I told Millie almost a week ago. I said she could trust me, not because I could promise to be perfect, but because I could promise to try my best.
Why is it so hard to do the same thing for myself?
I let out a long breath and nod. If I had been in Clara’s shoes, with children I needed to leave in her care, what would I
have expected from her?
The best she could.
Dr. Kline continues, “I also believe she wanted you to have a life beyond the girls as well. She didn’t intend for you to
shut everything and everyone else out to take care of them. In fact, you might find that you can be a better caregiver if
you are getting time away to rejuvenate. And that doesn’t mean at work. It’s time outside of both, to be yourself, whether
that’s a relationship, a hobby, or alone time.”
I can’t even remember the last time I did something alone, completely for myself. My days of cycling and hiking are long gone
since the girls came to live with me, and sometimes I wish I had time between work and making dinner to do something like
that for myself.
“So, what should I do?” I ask.
“You start with an honest conversation with yourself. Sit somewhere relaxing and try to picture what you want moving forward.
What will give you the most joy in life? Then have an honest conversation with Millie about what a future together would look
like. Last, you should practice having time away from the girls, even if it’s not with Millie. It’s good for them to spend
time with other people, and it’s good for you as well.”
***
The ticking of my watch reminds me it’s nearly time to go home and make dinner. Gabriella deserves to leave on time after the grumbling and scowling I’ve done this week, but I need to push it for just a handful of extra minutes.
A few keystrokes later, the planetarium view soars toward the Butterfly Cluster.
I need my sister’s advice, and while some people would go to a loved one’s grave to talk something through, I feel closer
to her in this room. In the stars.
I drop to the ground and lie flat on my back against the scratchy carpet. The vulnerability of this position makes my hands
twitchy, but it feels necessary. How can I move forward if I don’t make myself a little uncomfortable first?
Taking a deep breath, I whisper, “Hi, Clara.” I scan over each star in the cluster and clear my throat. “It’s me.” I shake
my head. “Obviously. I assume no one else is talking to you like this.” I swallow thickly. “I met someone...” I breathe,
my throat tight with emotion. “And I wish you could meet her.”
As tears gather at the edges of my eyes, I pour out every whispered word I wish I could say to my sister and hope that, somewhere
in the vast universe, she hears me and knows that I’m still trying my best to make her dreams come true.