“You weren’t crying until I mentioned Earl Rae.”
Goddamn shrinks and their being all observant and forming conclusions. I’ve dealt with enough in my life—I shouldn’t have to put up with this bullshit. She can’t ask me a few questions, witness a few tears, then leap to the opinion that I fit the mold of this case study she read about or that one her college professors discussed once upon a time.
I’m a person—not a diagnosis.
“Could you please just leave? Now?” I manage to swallow the mass lodged in my throat. “I don’t want to talk about what happened. I don’t want to talk about him. I just want to get on with my life.”
There’s a knock at the door, and someone pops their head inside. I don’t know who it is, but Dr. Argent clearly does. She lifts her hand to indicate they should wait, and the person disappears and closes the door.
Her attention lands on me again. “Ten years have gone by, Jade. You can’t just go back to being a high school senior. Your friends will have changed. Some might be married and have families.” Her shoulders lift like that was that. “You can’t go back to that same life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a new one that’s just as good.”
I twist as much as I’m able until my back’s facing her. “Please go.”
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she doesn’t get up and leave either. “Your family’s here. They’re waiting outside.”
My lungs deflate. My family. I spent the last decade pretending to be someone else’s family until I almost stopped thinking about my real one at all. It hurt too much.
“I asked them to wait for me to talk with you before the doctors let them in.”
I imagine my body being cast in steel until I’m certain nothing can penetrate it. That’s a trick I learned when I was with Earl Rae—if I built strong enough defenses, nothing could get through. “Let them in.”
“Do you remember their names, Jade?”
I look back at her, insulted. That look fades when I realize I don’t. At least not right away. Not automatically like everyone else in the world can list off the names of their family members. One name is still there—it never faded—but I can’t say his name because his is the one that hurts the most.
I bite my cheek and search my memory. They’re there. I know they are. Earl Rae tried to strangle them out of me, but he didn’t get all of it. “Mike and Eleanor Childs—my parents’ names. Connor and Sam—Samantha—are my brother’s and sister’s names.” I want to say his name. I want to know if she’s seen him. I want to ask if he’s here.
I want him back . . . but that was another lifetime. The girl who loved him is gone. The girl he loved is gone.
“That’s right, Jade. Good. They’re all here. They came in as soon as they heard you’d been found. They’re anxious to see you.”
“Then why aren’t they in here with us?”
Dr. Argent looks at the ceiling like I am doing, probably to see if she’s missing out on anything. “I’ve worked with others like you, and most find it overwhelming to have everyone all at once just burst back into their life. It can be a lot to take in.”
I feel my eyebrows lifting. “You’re drilling me about what Earl Rae did to me and pressuring me to be the second girl to rise above, and you’re worried a reunion with my family will be overwhelming?”
“Nice summation. Your mental acumen seems in good shape too.”
She’s trying to make a joke, I think. It’s been forever since I’ve heard a joke—Earl Rae didn’t have the talent for them.
“I had books, loads of books, and nothing but time to study. As my body weakened, I tried to keep my mind strong.”
Dr. Argent nods. “That’s good, Jade. That will make acclimating back into everyday life that much easier.” Her stare moves to the door. “Back to your family. There’s nothing wrong with needing a little more time before seeing them. I know they’ll understand. They want what’s best for you—whatever that is.”
I squirm in the bed. “They’re my family.”
“And as good as their intentions are, chances are they’ll revert to treating you like you’re the exact same girl you left them as. You can’t move on when everyone’s treating you like you never changed.”
She stands and pulls a pair of large nail clippers from her pocket. She cuts through the tie holding my left wrist. Then she moves around the foot of my bed and does the same with the right. She doesn’t ask if I’ll leave my IV in if she cuts me free. She doesn’t warn me that if I try it again, my wrists will be rebound. She just cuts me free like that’s all there’s left to do.
“I’d advise you to ease yourself back into your old life. Little bits at a time, not the whole thing all at once.” She unwinds the second restraint and tosses it into the garbage, pocketing the clippers again.
I rub my wrists for a second, then I reach for the cup of water. I sit up and drain it in one drink. I may not be ready to see them, but if I wait until I am, it might never happen. I have to pick my life up where I left off. As best as I can. This is part of that process.
“Let them in.”