Chapter 27
Please list any possible reasons for underlying distress.
I write below in all caps, MY SISTER.
If there was more space on the form, I would’ve expounded on how she’s holding me hostage at this clinic.
Even after waiting for an hour (for the record: That means my sister has wasted two hours of my time today), Achi insists that we stay put so we can interrupt a therapist’s very busy schedule.
Dr. Broso was apparently Achi’s advisor when she was in college so we’re disrupting the schedule of a therapist and professor.
When the receptionist handed me a clipboard with a health evaluation form to fill out, my sister lingered at her desk to bug her about Dr. Broso’s availability—and she still hasn’t left the obviously busy receptionist alone.
It’s a miracle my sister can see anything with her sunglasses that cover half her face.
Once the receptionist has had enough of her, Achi returns to her seat next to me in the waiting area and tells me I’m next in the queue. My eyes stay glued to the clipboard on my lap—because I’ve had enough of her too.
My sister annoyingly doesn’t get the hint.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
“That I really want pancit canton right now.”
Achi scowls. “Nika, we’re next to a diabetes center. Do you know how many people get treatment there from eating the stuff they put in instant noodles?”
I place the clipboard in front of my face, blocking my sister from my sight and mind.
She still doesn’t shut up. “Hallucinations can happen when the brain is having trouble processing loss.”
“I’m not hallucinating,” I say through my teeth.
“There was one time I thought I saw Pa at the bakery, and it turned out to be Father Melvin.”
“Father Melvin isn’t Pa’s ghost!”
Achi drops her voice, explaining things to me like I’m a kid. “Dr. Broso is the absolute best at grief counseling,” she explains. “When I was in college, she taught me all about helping kids and teenagers adjust while navigating through loss.”
I drop the clipboard and face Achi. “Did you ever talk to her?”
“In college? All the time. I did my thesis with her.”
“No, like, did you go to her for grief counseling?”
She frowns. “Why would I need counseling?”
“Because you need adjusting.”
“I’m very well adjusted.” Her voice is soaked with denial.
“You still have your shades on because you don’t want people to know you’ve been crying.”
She pushes the glasses up her nose. “It’s not my fault I get bad allergies, Nika.”
“Allergies to what? Light?” I throw up my hands. “Do they even allow people scared of therapy to get PhDs?”
Achi and I keep bickering until the door of Dr. Broso’s office clicks open. The clipboard on my lap clangs to the floor when I look up and see Ma walk out the door. “What are you doing here?” all three of us say at the same time.
Ma’s eyes bounce between the two of us. “Oh … you know…,” she stammers, and clutches her bag. “Just making some deliveries. Buns by Beth is really popular in this building.”
Dr. Broso’s clinic shares the building with only one other office—the diabetes care center.
“You’re serving pastries to diabetics?”
My leg buckles when Achi kicks the back of my knee. I shoot her a side-eye. It was a valid question!
“Nika and I were just dropping by Dr. Broso’s clinic.”
I’m about to add that I’m here against my will when Achi says, “The faculty head at Saint Agnes wanted me to provide a letter of rec before they consider me for a promotion.”
Promotion? But what happened to Florida?
Ma shakes her head at this. “You’d think that we’re not a family of Saint Agnes alumni. They’re lucky they have a summa cum laude graduate for their counselor. Your qualifications are enough of a recommendation!”
While Ma gets distracted probing more about Achi’s “promotion,” I soon get what she’s trying to do.
I can also tell that my sister is still wondering why in the world Ma is here too—but then again, aren’t these the rules of our family?
Downplay things, keep conversations positive, hide what you feel.
Do everything that we can to minimize Ma’s worries.
Just like Achi said, if Ma sees we’re okay, then she’ll be okay.
I leave the clipboard with the receptionist when we head out of the clinic, my sister forgetting all about my supposed appointment.
Ma says that Dr. Derrick dropped her off, so Achi offers to drive and the three of us slide into my sister’s car.
From the back, I see Ma’s leg jiggling and get a closer look at her face in the rearview mirror.
Her eyes are swollen too.
The next question I have for my sister: What happens when I can already tell that Ma’s not okay?