He dipped the spoon in my Corn Flakes and brought it to my mouth. I acquiesced to being fed because I was hungry, and Dad was doing a much better job than I did.
After I woke up screaming last night, Dad brought me downstairs. He made me tea and turned on a Christmas movie. It was the middle of November, but I think he chose Miracle on 34th Street because it was innocent and pleasant. And full of hope. And I think he thought it might lull me into a peaceful sleep, listening to the sweet voice of a young Natalie Wood scrutinizing Kris Kringle’s whiskers. I nuzzled my father and fell asleep against his chest, hearing the famous line at the end of the movie repeated over and over in my sub-consciousness: “You’ve still got to believe!”
“Brooke?” Dad asked after I took my last bite of cereal.
“Hmm?”
“I think you should talk to someone,” he said. “I thought about your old psychologist. I could set up an appointment. What do you think?”
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest.
“It’s so self-indulgent, Dad,” I said after a moment. “And I still have panic attacks. What did all that talking really do for me?”
“Well, while you were going, you were better,” Dad said. “Remember? The attacks subsided.”
I sighed.
“Will you think about it?” he asked.
I nodded.
“And it’s never self-indulgent to do something that makes you happy and healthy,” he said.
I smiled just to placate him. I wasn’t convinced.
***
By Wednesday I felt like my old self. Still guilt-ridden but no longer shaking. No longer terrified to sleep in my bedroom. No longer convinced that Beth was an angry ghost who hated my guts. Something else was going on in my brain, and next week I planned to discover it with the help of my former psychologist, Dr. Merryweather. God, I hated her name. It made me feel like I couldn’t talk to her about any of my problems—like I had to be all sunshine and smiles in her office because she was happy. Or at least her name suggested it.
“I want you to do something for me,” Dad said over dinner.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” I replied.
“Thursday is Family Night at the Y,” Dad said. “I want us to go.”
I laughed. “Are you freaking kidding me?”
“No. I think it would help you to run around and lift some weights and work out some of this stuff going on with you,” Dad said.
“Dad, you cannot be serious. Family Night? Can we say, ‘Lame’?”
“Totally lame. And we’re going,” Dad said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. Only then did I realize that Dad had been to the gym three times this past week. He bought a membership at the beginning of the school year for us, but he rarely went. I went on occasion, but I’m not really a gym girl. I prefer to take solitary walks or do a workout video in the comfort and privacy of my living room. Curtains drawn, of course.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Huh?” Dad gathered the dinner plates and took them to the sink.
“Who is the woman you’ve been working out for? And will she be there Thursday night? Is that why you’re so insistent on going?”
“Brooke, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dad replied, but he wouldn’t turn around and look at my face when he said it.
I jumped up from the table. “Oh my God, Dad! I want to know!” I squealed, and just like that, Beth, my nightmare, my guilt, all dissolved to nothing.
Dad finally turned around, a silly grin lighting up his face.
“Did you completely forget about fall conferences, Brooke?” Dad asked.
“What?”
“With your teachers,” he clarified.
“No, I didn’t. You met with Mrs. Hayes,” I said. “She’s older than dirt. And married.”
Dad chuckled. “Yeah, I met with Mrs. Hayes. But then I popped into English class.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Just spur of the moment kind of thing.” He looked proud about it.
“Where have I been? Why didn’t Ms. Manning say anything to me?”
“Because it’s not your business,” Dad said lightly. “At least not yet.”
“Oh my God! Did you ask her out?!”
“No. I introduced myself, and she seemed to know more about me than I did. I assume you had something to do with that.” Dad smirked.
I grinned.
“I didn’t know she lives around here. She goes to the Y, too,” he said.
“So now you go to the Y,” I said.
“I’ve had a membership for months, Brooke.”
“Ha! One you’ve never used!” I held up my hands, fingertips touching in a steeple-like gesture. I felt like Mr. Burns, devising my plan.
“Stop right there,” Dad said.
I dropped my hands. “Oh Dad. This is the cutest and most disgusting thing ever!”
Dad laughed. “So will you go Thursday night? She’s gonna be there. We’re gonna work out together.”
“Oh, I’m not missing this for anything,” I replied.
***
I have to admit that Family Night at the Y was pretty fun. I ran a mile with Dad around the indoor track before we moved on to the weight machines. Ms. Manning showed up during Dad’s set on the biceps machine, and he asked me to increase his weights.