“Because guys are dicks, and Ben’s no different.”
You want to say Ben’s not like that, he loves you, and Todd knows nothing about him. Shayna glances at you as if to say, Let him talk, so you don’t say anything. You sit there while your mom holds your hand and rubs it like she’s never going to let go. Then you blurt out, “What do you care anyway, Todd. You don’t even care about me.”
“The fuck I don’t!”
Everyone stares at Todd.
“You’re my little sister. I don’t want anyone hurting you.”
He’s still sulking.
Then Shayna asks your parents, “Do you have a problem with Ben?”
Your parents look at each other. You can tell your mom’s thinking of what she wants to say without hurting your feelings.
“She’s obviously not well,” your mom starts. “We think she needs to concentrate on getting better first, before she gets serious with anyone.”
Your mom smiles at you as if you’ve got a terminal illness or something.
“Mom! Stop it.” You pull your hand away from her and put some space between the two of you.
“Why can’t she do both?” Shayna asks your mom. “Why can’t she have a supportive boyfriend by her side while she’s getting better, while she’s going through the program and learning to use the tools we’re providing her?”
Your dad shifts his position on the couch, leans forward, as if to take control of the situation. “We have nothing against Ben. Ben’s okay. We like him. We don’t want her sneaking out and lying to us.”
Shayna turns to you. “If your parents allow you to see Ben, you have to respect their rules. This is their home, and you’re their daughter. And lying is nonnegotiable.”
You nod.
“He’s very nice,” your mom says. “I just don’t want you to get hurt, and you got hurt with Alex—you ended up in the hospital. We had to put you on medication! And with Ben—with Ben, you started cutting, and look, you ended up in the hospital too.”
“Mom, Dad, you have to know something,” you say.
“What is it?” your mom asks.
“Ben is the one who sent in the anonymous tip to school about the cutting,” you say.
“Now I really hate him,” Todd says.
“No, you idiot!” you snap. “He was trying to help me and he thought that was the best thing to do!”
Shayna interrupts. “Ben did what he thought was right. It’s pretty obvious he wants what’s best for her. He’s nothing like Alex and he’s not going to intentionally hurt her.”
Your mom reaches for your hand again. She’s got tears puddling in her eyes so you take her hand in yours. Her emotions are aggravating you, but she is your mom so you can’t blame her for being the way she is.
“I guess it’s okay for her to see Ben,” your mom says.
Your dad nods in agreement.
“Okay,” Shayna says. “So we all understand that there’s to be no more lying or sneaking out, and the kids must respect your rules.”
You and your parents nod. Your mom says, “We pulled her out of the hospital so fast she never got that prescription from Winthrop. We need to get her back on Zoloft too.”
“Okay,” Shayna says. “Schedule an appointment with her primary doctor for this week so he can write the prescription.”
“I’ll do that,” your mom says.
“And we’ll continue at Healthy Foundations next Monday with one-on-one and group therapy. Take this afternoon and evening off. I’d also like to suggest some family therapy as well. The five of us, Todd, including you, we can meet maybe every other week? How do you feel about that?” Shayna specifically looks at Todd when she asks this. When he doesn’t say anything, she nudges him.
“Todd? Are you okay with some family sessions?”
“Whatever,” he says, and shrugs. “If it’ll help.”
“It will,” Shayna says.
“Okay,” Todd agrees.
“I think it’s a good idea,” your mom says. “There’s been a disconnect in this family for a long time. Maybe therapy will help all of us?”
“Yes,” your dad says.
“Therapy’s tough on everyone. It takes a lot out of the patient, and it’s work,” Shayna tells your family. “She’s trying really hard, is open to exploring new foods, and wants to get better. She really does. Right there is half the battle. I’m so proud of her.”
“We are too,” your mom says.
“Hold up, I’m still concerned about the cutting,” your dad says.
Shayna looks to you for the answer.
“No more, Dad. That was just some crazy stuff. I can’t explain it. But I don’t want to do it anymore. I promise.”
Then Todd speaks. “How is Ben?”
“You broke his nose and gave him stitches in his lip.”
“Ow,” he says.
“Yeah, not good.”
“You need to get over there and apologize to him and his parents,” your dad says to Todd.
“I was only looking out for my sister,” Todd says. “Because I love you,” he adds, and scrunches up his face in a weird way like it pains him to say it.
It’s the first time in practically forever those words have come from his mouth directed at you and you almost fall off the couch. You feel a smile spread across your face.
“You’re still a jerk,” you say back, but you grin stupidly at Todd. You feel like you hate him just a tiny bit less for that small gesture of love, even though you do think he’s a complete asshole for beating up your boyfriend.
“By the way, Todd,” your mother adds, “you’ll be paying for that hospital bill.”
Now your smile grows wider.
“So,” Shayna says, “we’re all good with the plan?”
“Yes,” your mom says. “I’m so happy!” She actually sighs next to you. You can feel her tension melt. You realize now that this has been hard on your parents too.
You exhale and feel something inside you churn. It’s not the monster, because the monster doesn’t exist. He never existed. It’s a feeling of exhilaration, of being settled, of knowing that you’re heading in the right direction.
The direction of recovery.
62
“Come on, I’ll drive you to school.”
Shayna has gone, and you, Todd, and your parents are in the living room.
“What?” you ask.
“Let’s go,” Todd says. “I have to get to school. I missed this morning’s practice and if I don’t show up this afternoon, Coach won’t let me play Friday night.”
“All right,” you say.
You weren’t sure if you were ready to go back to school today but no sense in putting off the inevitable. You’ll have to face everyone and any rumors that are swirling around eventually. Might as well be today.
You tell Todd you need a minute and you run upstairs to brush your hair and grab your backpack. When you get downstairs, your mom hands you a paper bag that she’s put together.
“Lunch,” she says.
“Thanks,” you say.
In the car, Todd is quiet and so are you. You don’t know what to say to him. You think he might be annoyed that he’s being forced to go to family therapy.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he finally says.
You swallow hard and are not sure how to respond, but his words make you emotional.