27. Family Trauma
Family Trauma
The clock tick-tock-ticks in the corner as we sit in silence. Discomfort falls on us like a layer of dirt while being buried alive.
We’re in the office of Dr. Penelope Farrow, witch-family therapist only a few days later. She made us a ‘special priority.’
Dr. Farrow clears her throat, her black bob tickling her chin. “Does anyone have anything in particular they’d like to address first?”
I snort. Where the fuck do we even begin?
Grandma smooths her muumuu, bangles jangling on her wrist. “We’ve had a lot of trauma as a family. For many years, and we’ve needed to address it.”
“It’s a big step to seek out therapy, especially with how much stigma still surrounds it. You’re allowed to be proud of this step,” Dr. Farrow says.
This entire thing is going to kill me. The only reason I’m here is because Ash encouraged it.
Told me over and over about how wonderful therapy has been for him and how it could really help fix things between me and Hazel.
How much he’d love to have a sibling to lean on for help during his dad’s cancer treatment.
He was naked while he said it, which heavily influenced how much I was listening to him, if I’m honest.
Ash could ask me to do anything while he was naked, and I’d probably do it. Stupid pretty abs.
“We lost a member of our family recently,” Grandma says. “My daughter. Their mother. And we’ve just now learned she’s not gone after all, and she needs our help. It’s a bit to process.”
“Did you have enough time to start the grieving process? Accept that she may really be gone just for the rug to be ripped out from underneath you?” Dr. Farrow’s pen zooms across the paper, writing notes on all our dysfunction.
The fun part? She’s not holding it. A branch from the small potted tree in the corner is controlling the pen.
Grandma nods. “At least, Hazel and I did. Laura always had a feeling things weren’t what they seemed—Laura’s the one who figured it out, actually.”
Thanks for the spotlight, Grandma. I was kind of hoping to slip through here unnoticed for the first time in my life.
Dr. Farrow turns her gaze to me, watching me with beady brown eyes behind thick glasses. “It must’ve felt vindicating to show your family that your feeling was correct.”
I see your trap, lady.
“They didn’t feel what I felt, and I don’t hold that against them. Why wouldn’t they start grieving?” Lie number one of the day. Of course I hold it against them.
They didn’t believe me, just like they never believe me.
I’m Laura—the silly, airheaded, bitchy one who never has anything of true value to contribute.
“Because you warned them. Why wouldn’t they believe you?” Dr. Farrow is relentless. Like a dog with a bone.
I cross my arms. “I don’t know, Dr. Farrow. Why wouldn’t they?”
A small smile graces her lips. It’s not condescending . . . Maybe amused? Like she’s appreciating that I’m not making this easy for her or something. Maybe she likes a challenge.
“Why don’t we all drink some tea as we contemplate what Laura just shared?” Dr. Farrow waves her hand and another branch emerges, lifting a tray from the little kitchenette and bringing it toward us.
We’re in her house. Apparently most witch therapists do their work from their homes. Something about the healing energy grounding them.
The branch places the tray on the little wooden coffee table in front of the couch, and Dr. Farrow encourages us with a gentle nod.
Grandma takes the first sip, delicately sniffing it first. It must be deemed safe as she grins and relaxes back against the cushions. Hazel picks up her mug after watching to make sure it was okay.
“I’m an Earth witch, first and foremost. I use my talent with emotions to infuse my herbs with healing and safety. It helps to open your heart to tough discussions,” Dr. Farrow explains, obviously noticing my hesitation.
Definitely not drinking that, then.
“It makes sense that Laura would think we didn’t believe her. And maybe we didn’t. But it wasn’t that we didn’t believe her because we thought she was wrong, it’s more that we couldn’t put hope into the idea that she could be right,” Hazel says, sipping the tea.
They’d have to hold me down and force that truth juice down my throat. My mug stays on the tray, softly steaming.
“We have a complicated relationship with our mother. She’s a tough subject all around, but the thought that she didn’t really die? My brain couldn’t process it.” Hazel’s eyebrows raise as if she’s surprised that came out of her mouth.
“So what I’m hearing is that while it would be perfectly natural for Laura to take that rejection personally, it was more that you were rejecting the idea itself? Not Laura’s intuition?” Dr. Farrow’s pen is still wildly scratching along. We’re going to give this woman enough content for a book.
Hazel nods. “I guess so? Yeah.”
Everyone turns to me as if I’m supposed to respond to this.
“Cool?” I shrug.
Dr. Farrow chuckles. “I’m guessing therapy wasn’t your idea, Laura.”
“How did you ever come to that conclusion?”
Grandma slaps my arm lightly. I’m probably embarrassing her by being rude. Holding up the honor of the Pruitt name in public is real big with her.
“You’re more likable than you’d like to believe,” Dr. Farrow says, winking at me.
“And you’re also not required to participate if you aren’t ready.
We can focus on everyone else’s feelings about Sarah—I believe that’s what you said her name was over the phone—and her potentially being part of your lives again. ”
Works for me.
“I don’t know if I do want her back in our lives,” Hazel says.
Now that her words are flowing, she’s apparently unable to stop.
“I don’t want her in Hell, and I’ll do everything I can to get her out.
But let’s be honest. The woman is toxic, and I don’t want her drowning us again with her bullshit.
I feel like we’ve only just now been able to start breathing again. ”
Bold to talk shit about Grandma’s own daughter in front of her, but go off, sis.
Grandma’s head drops, eyes falling to the mug sitting in her lap. But she doesn’t say a word.
Guess that truth tea doesn’t work on other Earth witches.
“That’s an entirely valid way to feel about someone who has mistreated you.
It’s easy to write someone off when they’re no one, but your own mother?
That comes with familial guilt and a sense of loyalty that she may not entirely deserve.
It’s very courageous that you still want to save her, but the role she has in your life once she’s saved is entirely your decision.
” Dr. Farrow’s words draw a gasp out of all three of us.
“Just because she’s a member of your family doesn’t mean you owe her anything.
Especially if she herself hasn’t done anything to earn that. ”
Tears well up in Hazel’s eyes. She’s trembling and my fingers itch to wrap around hers.
But I don’t let them.
“Boundaries are important. We respect others’ and we respect our own. Your boundary may be that you don’t want her in your life. Someone else sitting here may choose differently. And that’s okay.”
What would happen if Hazel cut Mom off completely again? The first time that happened, it practically ruined our relationship for good. While we’re definitely not in a good place, at least we’re speaking.
Sort of.
That’s more than I can say for us just a few months ago.
“I think,” Dr. Farrow continues, “it would be good for you to focus on the three of you as a family over the holiday season. Whichever holiday you celebrate, put thought into your presents and be intentional with your time. Show each other how much love there is in this family still. And then, once the new year comes, figure out how to save Sarah. Maybe strengthening that bond will allow you to find a way to support one another in this endeavor.”
Christmas is in a week, isn’t it?
For someone who loves shopping, I really lost track of fucking time. I haven’t gotten anything for anyone.
Including Ash. Do I get something for Ash? Of course I should.
Probably.
He’s my boyfriend-soulmate-thing.
I mentally check out of therapy and put together a bullet list in my head. This is going to suck.