Chapter 17
I couldn’t believe this was our third therapy session.
That I’d been here in Clovis taking care of my mom for a month now.
In some ways she seemed to be doing better.
She moved a little easier, when she wanted to.
She seemed to be in a little less pain. But in other ways she seemed exactly the same.
I still had to do everything for her, and it was never good enough.
I was used to the second part of that equation.
My phone buzzed as I headed toward the office building.
What time did you say the interviews were again tomorrow? Raya’s text asked.
I had told her on our morning phone call but should’ve written it down in a text too. One at two and one at three thirty, I quickly typed back.
And if I hire them, you’ll work them into next week’s schedule?
Yes, and tell Presley. She’s anxious to have the help.
Presley is a whiner.
She’s the best server we have. Treat her well.
I do, but between you and me, she’s a whiner.
I laughed and tucked my phone away. I had seen Elijah’s car already in the parking lot when I’d pulled in, but he wasn’t in it.
I was five minutes early, so I was surprised he had already gone inside.
When I went in, he wasn’t in the waiting room either.
And like every session so far, neither was anyone else.
No receptionist, no other patients. It was nice of Dr. Franklin to stay late for us.
I wondered if Elijah was using the bathroom when I heard voices and laughter from down the hall, in Dr. Franklin’s office.
“Am I late?” I asked at the open door.
Dr. Franklin and Elijah were standing shoulder to shoulder, looking at a framed picture on her desk. She jumped at my words, putting space between herself and Elijah.
He smiled at me, then casually walked to my side. I could tell he was about to brush a hand down my arm when he stopped himself. Probably remembering me telling him not to lie with his body in front of Dr. Franklin. “You’re not late. You’re perfectly on time. I was early.”
This was the session I needed to drop more obvious hints so Dr. Franklin could guess we weren’t in a relationship. Maybe Elijah had unwittingly started the ball rolling by showing up early to flirt with the therapist.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Let’s get started.”
We settled into the love seat and, seriously, she needed to invest in a bigger couch.
This thing was too small for a couple. Our thighs and sides were smashed against each other once again.
This was probably another one of her bonding exercises.
Elijah moved his arm to the back of the couch, which freed up some space but felt more intimate.
Dr. Franklin shut the door, then assumed her place in the chair with her notebook. I looked at the closed door.
“How are you both? This week go well? Were you able to complete your homework?”
“Yep,” I said, turning my attention back to her.
I could feel Elijah’s eyes on me as if he wondered why I hadn’t tattled on him.
I wasn’t sure either. Only that I worried if I talked about it that the genuine hurt I’d felt over him not showing up (especially after learning that it was for some made-up reason) would be impossible to hide.
And these sessions weren’t about genuine feelings.
“And how was it?” she asked.
“I didn’t think I’d like boxing, but I did. It was a nice stress reliever.”
“How did it make you feel to have her there?” she asked Elijah.
“I haven’t taught someone since … it’s been a while … and she was a good person to break myself back in with. She made it fun.”
Did he just call me fun? “You haven’t taught someone since when?” I asked, because I was trying to drop hints and because I really wanted to know.
He couldn’t say something like, You know this, Sutton, because I did not, in fact, know this. But I could see his mind working. Hopefully Dr. Franklin could as well.
“Since I used to box,” he said.
My eyes went wide. Of course, I knew he worked at the boxing gym, but I didn’t know he used to actually box. He just had the one razor-thin scar through his brow, but other than that, his face did not look like it had been involved in any serious fights. “You’re too pretty.”
He let out a single laugh. “That’s what you tell me.”
“You don’t want him to box?” Dr. Franklin asked me, and Elijah gave her a look like that was the stupidest question she could’ve asked. But she was probably genuinely curious as well.
“I want him to do whatever he wants to do,” I said, which was true.
“And what is it that you want to do?” she asked him. Again, he gave her that look.
“I run a boxing gym,” he said, which didn’t really answer her question.
“And that’s what you want to do?” she said carefully.
The room seemed charged with tense energy. I wasn’t sure what to do to defuse it. Wasn’t that her job to figure out? My hand, seemingly on its own, moved to pat his chest. “I punched him in the face by accident during my visit. I don’t think I’m welcome back at the gym,” I teased.
“You are,” he said quickly. “She is. She can come back whenever she wants.”
How did this woman not know we weren’t in a relationship after statements like that?
“Tell me about that feeling,” she said, her gaze on me.
I was confused. “What feeling?”
“That an accident would lead to you not being welcome back.”
“I was just teasing,” I said.
“Were you?”
To my surprise and horror, tears stung my eyes. I was not going to unpack my childhood baggage of abandonment here. It was not the time or place. Well, maybe it was the place, but definitely not the time.
“I dropped the ball this week,” Elijah said. I wasn’t sure if he knew I needed saving and was returning the favor or if he was just uncomfortable in silence, but either way, I was grateful to have the attention off me.
“How?” she asked.
“I was supposed to help with her mom.”
“And you didn’t?”
“It turned into a really busy day, half of which I was left in charge of by myself.”
“Michael really had a cake emergency?” I asked, renewed irritation at his lie coursing through me.
“He did,” he said. “Right when I was about to leave.”
“Okay,” I said.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I talked to him a couple days ago.”
“Then you know.”
“He said there was a last-minute qualifier.”
“There was. Then a cake emergency when I was about to leave.”
“You’re sticking with that?”
“Why don’t you believe him?” Dr. Franklin asked.
“Because I saw Michael’s face when I asked him about it. He seemed to make it up on the spot to cover for him.”
Elijah shifted toward me, his thigh pressing even more against mine. “Is that why you’ve been mad at me?”
“I haven’t been mad at you,” I said, even though we weren’t supposed to tell lies in here.
“You were mad when you left the gym the other day. You hardly said two words to me.”
“Yeah, well, you lied, so…”
“You have trust issues,” Elijah said, obviously irritated.
“That is too broad,” Dr. Franklin said. “Let’s not use always or never statements.”
“I didn’t say always or never,” Elijah said.
“But that’s how it was delivered. That she has an all-encompassing issue.”
“I probably do,” I said. “But my issues are well earned.”
Elijah laughed, his irritation melting off his face.
Dr. Franklin looked at me as though I had just derailed her attempt to support me. I had. I didn’t need her to correct Elijah on my behalf over a fake relationship.
“Well earned how?” she asked.
I shouldn’t have said that. “Childhood shit,” I said. “Not relevant here.”
“Childhood shit is always relevant,” she said.
Then I was in more trouble than I realized.
“Back to the support,” she said. “Eli, you didn’t help her on this specific day when there was a tournament and a cake emergency.” She said cake emergency like she didn’t believe him either. I nearly laughed out loud. “Then why not a different day? The week was seven days long.”
“That was the day we had agreed on,” he said.
“He brought me and my mom breakfast the next day,” I said, suddenly feeling defensive of him.
“Dropping breakfast at someone’s house is a good start,” Dr. Franklin said. “But it’s important to show genuine effort.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Did my dad just channel your body to deliver that message?”
“Is your dad dead?” I asked and then immediately clamped my mouth shut.
He laughed. “You always like to joke. You know he’s alive and kicking and full of support.” He said the word support like he meant the exact opposite.
I smiled as if I was part of this joke and this knowledge.
Dr. Franklin leaned back in her chair, her gaze slowly and steadily shifting from Elijah to me and back again. This was it. She knew and she was going to say something and put us both out of our misery, and we could hand therapy over to the two people who actually needed it.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Both of you. Close your eyes.”
I did as she said.
“I want you to picture yourself as a child.”
This was my fault, bringing up my childhood, I was sure.
“What you looked like, how you felt back then,” she continued. “Now, put your fully grown adult self, the you of now, in front of that child. What would you, with all the knowledge you have now, say to your younger self?”
My parents didn’t fight when I was young.
We had a quiet household. Very quiet. Unless my dad was playing the violin.
Then that singular sound filled the house with sharp, haunting melodies.
Sometimes they’d have friends over, and that’s when my dad’s loud, fun side came out.
It always surprised me that he seemed like such a different person around his friends.
“Can you picture yourself?” Dr. Franklin asked. “What you looked like, what you wore, what you were doing?”
My mom dressed me well. She liked to thrift shop. It was one of her hobbies. She was really good at finding the best clothes. She had style that she extended to me.
In my imagination now, I wore a pair of burnt orange corduroy pants and a striped T-shirt.
My hair was in a low ponytail, a velvety ribbon tied around it.
That was back when my mom did my hair. Before my dad left.
She didn’t take me to parks or play places or library story times, like other parents did with their kids.
But I tagged along with her to the things she wanted to do—brunch or nature walks or searching antique stores for treasures.
I may have been a surprise addition to her life, but she folded me into her already-established routine like nothing had changed.
“What would you say to that child?” Dr. Franklin asked.
I remembered that first year after my dad left, things were hard. Mom retreated into herself, into her routines, but didn’t include me anymore. I felt alone and scared. My dad had left, and it felt like she had left right along with him.
“You’re going to be fine. You’re strong and you don’t need anyone.
” The words were out before I realized I’d said them out loud.
But that was what I’d tell that scared little girl.
That she turned out fine. Strong. That she would accomplish the things she set her mind to and that she didn’t have to count on anyone.
“Let’s unpack that,” Dr. Franklin said. “Do you still feel like you don’t need anyone?”
I opened my eyes, not really wanting to unpack anything. The answer was yes, of course. Because I didn’t. “I want people in my life. I don’t need them.”
“And do you consider that a strength?” she asked.
“Not needing people?” I clarified.
“Yes.”
“I think it’s important to trust myself. And I do.”
“Do you ask for help when you need it?”
“She doesn’t ask for help. Doesn’t want it,” Elijah said. And after I didn’t tattle on him!
“You wouldn’t even let me put a pack of ice on your face after I punched you,” I said. “So you might want to turn that statement right around.”
“Just telling the truth,” he said. “And you put ice on my face, didn’t you? I obviously let you.”
“What would you say to your childhood self?” I asked.
“Yes, Eli,” Dr. Franklin agreed. “Let’s finish the exercise. Close your eyes.”
He reluctantly did. We were all quiet for some time. I was surprised Elijah let it be silent for that long. He seemed uncomfortable in silence. But he was deep in his thoughts, and Dr. Franklin allowed the time to pass.
Finally, he said, “You can’t make everyone happy.”
“Explain,” she said.
“I thought I could make everyone happy as a kid,” he said, like the answer was obvious. “Bent myself in a lot of different directions, always trying to police everyone’s emotions. Thinking I could change them by being overly accommodating.”
“And now?” she asked.
He let out an ironic little laugh, most likely thinking about how we were sitting in this room because he was doing his brother a favor. “I probably still need that message.”
Dr. Franklin turned her eyes to me. “Is he a people pleaser? And does he often choose pleasing other people over plans with you, like this week with the homework?”
“No, what? No,” I sputtered out because that suddenly felt like too much, saying he should ever choose me over his real life. “He needs to choose himself.”
“Does he choose less important people over you?”
“No.” Nobody was less important than me in his life. “But I put my work first a lot too.” And wasn’t that the truth. “I get it.”
His hand slid over mine and I nearly jumped from surprise.
“I’m not lying,” he said in a low voice only I could hear.
After a moment, I turned my hand, palm up, and as our fingers laced together, my shoulders relaxed.