Chapter 21
Twenty-One
The waiting room the next day smells of lavender and something citrus. I think it’s supposed to be calming, but it just reminds me of the funeral home.
My thumb hovers over my phone, wanting to open something to distract myself. But I just sit here, listening to the tick of the wall clock.
She’s mid-forties with short blonde hair with streaks of silver peppered throughout. Her kind eyes sit behind wire-rimmed glasses, and she’s wearing a soft gray cardigan over a white blouse and dark jeans. Approachable but professional.
“Alice.” Her smile warms. “Come on back.”
I follow Dr. Novak into her office. Beyond the desk, two armchairs are positioned at an angle to face each other.
A small table sits between them, with a box of tissues and two glasses of water on top.
Bookshelves line one wall, and a window looks out onto a small garden, lush with greenery and growing plants.
“Have a seat, if you’re comfortable,” Dr. Novak says, settling into one of the chairs.
I take the other, perching on the edge, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.
“How have you been since your last therapy session?” She checks her notes. “It was with Dr. Timms, in Milbrook, yes?”
“Yes,” I reply. “And I’m fine.”
“Fine?” she questions gently. “You’ve had a big adjustment recently. Moving to a new town, living with a new guardian, and attending a new school.”
I watch my hands as I pick at a chip in my fingernail. “Mm-hmm.”
“It’s okay not to want to talk about this,” Dr. Novak says. “It’s human to feel panicked or fearful of change.”
I glance up at her, unimpressed. “Fearful? I didn’t exactly sign-up for this. I didn’t plan for my parents not to be around anymore.”
“Of course not, Alice. This is completely out of your control.”
I look away, and my eyes roll on their own.
Out of my control? What a joke.
“What is it, Alice? Did I say something wrong?”
I’m quick to shake my head. I’m not telling a shrink I caused my parents’ accident. She’ll lock me up someplace worse than Miranda’s house.
Dr. Novak is quiet for a moment, and then consults her notes again. “Dr. Timms sent over some notes,” she finally says. “So I have a general sense of what you’ve been dealing with. But I’d rather hear from you how things are going. Can you tell me a bit about your food issues?”
I suck in an urgent breath, scooting myself further back into the chair.
Dr. Novak lifts a placating hand. “It’s okay, Alice. You don’t need to shield yourself. I just want to help.”
I hug my middle, looking away. “I eat, okay?”
“Okay, Alice.” I hear her shuffling notes. “Like I said, I want to hear things from your perspective. Dr. Timms has written…”
“Dr. Timms hasn’t seen me in over a week,” I snap, interrupting her.
“Are you comfortable filling in the blanks for me?”
I grasp my elbows tighter. “What blanks?”
“How about telling me about your new start in Victoria Falls? We can put these notes aside and talk about your new surroundings. Tell me, have you had any difficulties settling in?”
I shrug, scratching my elbow with a jagged piece of nail. “I don’t know. I guess so.”
“Moving in with family you don’t know well can be complicated.”
“Yeah.”
“And school? How’s that been?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine,” she repeats. Not mockingly, just noting. “Tell me about your new school. What’s it like?”
I shift in my seat. “It’s different from my old school.”
“Different how?”
“Just... different.” I wrap my arms around myself. “I don’t really fit in there.”
“That makes sense. You’re the new person, and you’re dealing with a lot. It’s hard to jump into a social environment when you’re—“
“I’m tired a lot,” I cut in, redirecting. “Like, all the time. Even when I sleep.”
Dr. Novak nods, following my lead. “That’s very common with grief. Your body is processing a lot of trauma. It’s exhausting.”
“Yeah.”
“Have you had trouble sleeping? Nightmares? Panic attacks?”
The mention of panic attacks makes me pause. “I’ve had a couple. But I’m dealing with them.”
“Did Dr. Timms teach you any breathing techniques?”
“Yeah, I do the four-count breath.”
Dr. Novak brightens. “And it works for you?”
I slouch in my seat. “Sometimes.”
“Sometimes a distraction can be more helpful than breathing,” she suggests. “For instance, a grounding technique. You witness your surroundings and name things you can see, touch, and hear. Can you see that working for you?”
My mind drifts to being in the practice room yesterday with Ryder. Listening to him play the keyboard. Seeing the way his hair flopped to the side. Feeling his strong hand plant over mine.
“Mm-hmm,” I mutter, swallowing hard. “Maybe.”
Dr. Novak makes a note, tilting her head as she takes me in. “Are you thinking about anything right now, Alice?”
Oh my gosh. Have I gone red?
Please, chair, swallow me whole.
“I apologize, Alice. I thought I saw a change in your expression. Have I made you self-conscious?”
My hands curl into fists. What kind of question is that?
Dr. Novak leans in again. “Tell me, Alice, did you come to today’s session with anything on your mind?”
About a billion things.
“Anything you think you might want to discuss in therapy?” she continues.
Heck no! Is she crazy?
“It’s okay to talk,” Dr. Novak goes on. “Even to vent. You can whisper, you can yell. You can do anything that might make you feel the slightest bit better.”
I release my arms from around my middle. “That won’t help.”
She tilts her head. “What makes you say that?”
“What good is talking about things you can’t change?”
Dr. Novak taps her pen thoughtfully against her chin.
“Yes, it’s a good point that we can’t change the past. It’s actually a very healthy and mature outlook.
But despite not changing the past, we still have feelings about the events in our lives.
The good and the bad. You don’t need to talk about the car accident, or what has happened since.
If you want, you can talk about the life you lived before your parents’ passing. ”
I wince at her. “Why?”
“Is it too painful for you to discuss your parents?”
“Well, no, I…” I catch myself and purse my lips. I’m not doing this. I’m not opening up to a shrink.
She waits patiently before asking softly, “You, what, Alice?”
I shake my head, looking out the window at the thriving plant life.
“Do you like gardening?” Dr. Novak asks, seemingly following my gaze. When I don’t respond, she continues with, “I do a lot of garden therapy with my patients. We could try that during our next session, if you like?”
At the words, next session, I involuntarily shudder.
Dr. Novak sighs as if a revelation has just hit her. “Do you have an aversion to therapy?”
“Can you blame me?” I grumble at the window.
“I don’t blame you for anything, Alice,” she replies. “You had the worst thing imaginable happen to you. Of course you’re hurting. But if you let me, I’d like to help you.”
“You can’t help me!” I snap. “They’re gone! They’re gone, and I’m to blame.”
“Alice, you weren’t in the van. You didn’t cause it.”
“I made them late. I caused them to drive into that storm.”
“You don’t control the weather.”
I’m about to snap at her again, but her words cause me to halt.
“It was a sharp turn on the road. The police report said the tire tracks on the road showed they tried to slow down,” Dr. Novak says, lifting the report from her clipboard and holding it out to me.
“A semi-truck on the road took over two lanes. It cut them off, and they didn’t have time to react.
With so much water on the road, they didn’t stand a chance. ”
I blink at her hard, trying to compute the words.
“Alice, it was a freak accident. Whether it was five minutes earlier, or ten minutes later, who knows what would have happened.”
“Th-there…” I stutter, staring at the report in her hand. “There was really a truck?”
“It’s all in the report. Dr. Timms sent me over everything he could.”
I take the report, and as soon as I look at the words, the lines start to scatter and blur into two. I groan and lower the paper.
“Are you okay?”
I shake my head as the tears build. “I can’t read it.”
“Do you want me to?”
A sob breaks free. “There was really a truck?”
“You weren’t told?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t hear it.”
Dr. Novak reaches across and touches my knee. “Alice, you’ve been punishing yourself.”
My hands lift to cover my face just in time to catch the tears. I hear Dr. Novak pull tissues from the box, but I can’t lower my hands to take one.
“Take your time,” she whispers. “Let your chest settle. Let your heart ease.”
“I…” I sob, wiping my eyes dry. “I… I…”
“It’s okay, Alice. Just breathe through it.”
Dr. Novak helps me cycle through the four-count breathing technique, and I watch the trembling in my hands ease up.
“There you go,” Dr. Novak says quietly. “You’re doing great.”
I lower my hands from my face, wiping at my cheeks with my palms. My eyes feel swollen and hot.
“I’m sorry,” I manage, my voice hoarse.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” She pushes the box of tissues closer to me. “Take as many as you need.”
I grab a handful, pressing them against my face. Outside the window, I hear birds chirping in the garden. The sound feels impossibly far away, yet startlingly close at the same time.
“Better?” Dr. Novak asks.
I nod, even though better feels like too strong a word. “A little.”
“That’s enough.” She leans back in her chair, giving me space. “You’ve been carrying something very heavy. It’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling right now.”
I crumple the tissues in my fist, staring down at them instead of at her.
“There was really a truck,” I whisper again, still trying to make the information real in my head.
“There really was.”
I shake my head, wincing at the pain inside me. “I couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anyone trying to talk to me.”
“Your world has turned upside-down. You did the best you could.”
I wipe my eyes again with the crumpled tissue. “Police, social workers, neighbors. I couldn’t hear them. It was garbled, like I was underwater.”
“That’s called dissociation,” Dr. Novak explains. “It’s your brain’s way of protecting you from information that’s too painful to process. It’s very common after trauma. You heard your parents were gone, and you couldn’t hear any more. That’s human.”
I stare down at the tissues in my hands, shredding them into smaller pieces. “Even the realtor… I don’t talk to him. My neighbor does it for me.”
Dr. Novak gives an encouraging smile. “Sounds like you have someone in your corner.”
I sigh heavily. “Yes. Mrs. Patel has been very good to me.”
“That’s lovely, Alice. Do you talk to her often?”
I shake my head as shame bubbles up inside me. I look at the carpet below and find the report. I scoop it up and ask, “Can I keep this?”
“Yes, of course, Alice.”
I look up at her and give a thankful nod. “I’ll read it when I’m ready.”
“I’m more than happy to discuss it with you next session, if that’s something you want.”
I fold the paper and set it on my lap. “Maybe.”
“Is it something you would discuss with your aunt?”
The question makes me shudder, and I sit further back in the armchair.
Dr. Novak sits forward in alarm. “Alice?”
I tap the folded paper. “I wouldn’t talk about this with my aunt.”
“Why? Does it not feel safe?”
I shake my head. “She won’t talk about my mom. She hates my mom.”
“Hates a very strong…”
“She does,” I cut her off. “She told me.”
Dr. Novak takes a beat, finding the most tactful way to respond.
“They didn’t talk for twelve years,” I elaborate. “Mom and Miranda. Neither of them would tell me why. But I think it was about money. At least that’s what Ryder told me.”
“Ryder?” Dr. Novak questions.
“He lives with Miranda.” I shift in the seat. “And me, I guess. Anyway, Ryder said Miranda said something about money when she mentioned I was coming to live with them.”
“And Ryder will tell you about this estrangement, but your aunt is unwilling to?”
“Ryder doesn’t know much,” I blurt, shifting again. “I mean, he’s not part of our family. He just lives there. He’s actually told me more than once he doesn’t want to get involved.”
Dr. Novak nods slowly, making a note. “So Ryder lives with your aunt, but he’s not family. What’s his connection to her?”
“My aunt manages his band. He’s a really talented musician.” I pick at the edge of the folded report. “Their band, Sky Chaos, has even been on TV.”
“You sound impressed by them,” Dr. Novak observes. “Have you and Ryder bonded?”
“He’s helped me through some stuff,” I mutter. “But he can be a real jerk sometimes.”
“How so?”
“He’s just really angry sometimes, and he can be really harsh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That must be difficult to deal with, especially being under the same roof.”
“It can. But I guess he’s easier to deal with than my aunt. Miranda is either fake nice or cold-blooded.”
“I’m sure it’s a difficult transition for both of you.”
“She didn’t have to take me in. She could’ve kept ignoring Mrs. Rodriguez’s calls.”
“But she did take you in. Don’t you think that…”
“She’s using me,” I cut in. “She saw I’m good at school and agreed to take me in so I’d tutor Ryder. She doesn’t want me for me. She wants what I can offer.”
Dr. Novak shifts in her chair and adjusts her glasses as she takes in the new information. “And how does the tutoring arrangement make you feel?”
“Like a commodity.”
“Would you like some help to process these feelings so you can discuss this with your aunt?”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking to Miranda about this. She wants me to put on a smile and say everything is fine.”
“Alice, masking your feelings isn’t the healthiest choice. But here, with me, I want you to know it’s safe to talk about whatever is coming up for you.”
I press my hands firm against the paper on my lap. “I’m fine. I’ll graduate soon and then I’ll leave Miranda’s house.”
“Alice, if you’re uncomfortable in your new arrangement, I can suggest to social services that…”
“It’s fine,” I blurt. “Ashworth Academy is a good stepping stone to good colleges. I’ll get my head on straight and be a good student again. It’ll all work out fine. I promise.”
“Alice, it’s okay to admit when things are…”
“Can you stop?” I snap.
Dr. Novak lifts her hands off her notepad. “Of course, Alice. It’s not my intention to upset you. I think we’ve done very well for this session, and I think we can continue to make great strides together.”
I deadpan her. “So you’re not signing off on me?”
Dr. Novak gives a sympathetic smile. “I think it’s best that we continue working together.”
With a sigh, I let my eyes roll.
“You might not enjoy therapy yet,” Dr. Novak says, “but I believe you can learn tools to help make your life better.”
My gaze wanders out the window. “Mm-hmm.”
“So, were you ready to discuss those food issues?”
This time, I’m glad she sees my eyes roll.