I hear the suction sound of the sliding door to the backyard opening. Hands grab for my arms. I wasn't going to do it. I was making a point. But the way they all look at me, it's like they finally see I'm not me.
I'm not the girl put here to make them all feel better. To make their lives easier. Not anymore. I am difficult. I am unwieldy. Nothing fits and I am always uncomfortable, tugging on odds and ends, trying to get things to fall into place. I've seen and felt things that make pleasantries seem trivial.
They see the trouble I have become and I can tell they don't want this. They want their sweet, compliant Vesper back. Now they feel obligated. Just like my mother always has. But they don't want this.
I don't want this.
I wake up with what feels like a hangover. Except I didn't drink. I trudge out of the bedroom and see Carter pouring himself a cup of coffee.
I moan to myself, everything aching with the recollection of the ugliness of the night before.
“Well, that was a disaster,” I say.
Carter’s face is tense. “Vesper, I think you should see someone.”
“See someone?”
“Yes. A therapist. You have been through an ordeal and I think you are having a hard time adjusting.”
“Carter, it's been hardly two weeks, give me some time.”
“I understand, and that's my point, now is the time to get help. The sooner, the better.”
“I don't need help.”
Carter puts his coffee on the counter and releases all the tension in the room with an exhale. “Look,” he starts before taking a few steps to me and cradling my shoulders in his hands, “I understand there are things you may not be comfortable discussing with me, or your mother, or anyone you know. That's why an objective person would be ideal. They won't tell and you can just sort out the things you are feeling.”
“I know how a therapist works, Carter. I was a semester away from being a nurse.”
“I know you do, I'm just trying to make things clear for you. I feel like you think we're all against you. You've been defensive. And I wonder if it's because you've got all this stuff inside you are trying to protect. Like a shell. It's made you hard. And I understand these things do. I just want you to have someone you don't have to be hard with, a safe space, and then you can get back to living your life. Maybe finish school.”
“I'll think about it,” I say. I don't know if I want any of that. Nursing was once this trophy on a pedestal I was climbing towards. But as of late, that goal seems unappealing.
He gives me a tight-lipped smile. Hope.
The phone rings.
Carter, rubs the top of my head, gazing at me wistfully, before turning to grab the receiver.
“Yee-ello.”
He scrunches his brow. “Hello? Hello?” He grunts and hangs up the phone. “Wrong number or a bad connection,” he informs me.
“Oh,” I respond casually as I pour myself some coffee, my stomach rolling with disappointment at the missed opportunity to scold Sam.
“Why don't you get me some recommendations from your colleagues and I'll see about setting an appointment?” I'm not sure how truthful I'm being, but I don't want Carter to worry about me. He lingers when he does.
“Okay, I'll do that. I gotta run.” He kisses me on the top of my head and spins to make it towards the door. “Oh, and I do want to say, not that I am condoning the whole angry bit you had going on last night, but it was nice to see you stand up to your mother for once. I'm just thinking it could be more productive and less scary.”
I laugh, rising my mug to him for an air toast. He leaves. I wait a few seconds, putting the mug down quietly and tiptoeing towards the door to listen for footsteps. Silence. I link the chain on the door. Then I go back to the phone and dial 0.
“Hello, operator. I just received a call on this line and I was wondering if you could tell me where it came from? I think it was a friend and I lost her number.”
“Ma'am, I can’t trace the call, do you have a name and city?”
“I…no, she moved, I’m not sure where.”
“You don’t have your friend’s name, Ma’am?”
The impulse fades with her inquiries and I hang up, realizing how dangerously close I was to opening up something I shouldn't. But I have another idea, I don't know what it'll bring me, but I know it'll satisfy this hollowness, at least temporarily. I grab the keys to my car that I retrieved from my mother's yesterday. I told Carter I wasn't interested in using it any time soon, but it was wise to have it around in case of emergency. I lied.