“Well.” Dr. Parker was still smiling. “Let’s go talk to her. May I come in?”
Sorrow stood aside to let her through the door. The doctor had said let’s but she brushed by Sorrow to climb the stairs; she didn’t have to ask where to go. Sorrow considered following, then considered eavesdropping, but in the end she shuffled into the kitchen to sit with Grandma. She wanted to feel better that an adult, a professional, was here to take over. She wanted to be relieved there was somebody who could help. Instead she only felt tired and anxious and sick to her stomach.
And angry. She was angry too. Verity was a grown woman. She shouldn’t need somebody holding her hand just to remind her to eat. She shouldn’t need somebody watching her just to be sure she didn’t get so dizzy she fell down the stairs. She could have been seriously hurt. The wrong angle, a different tumble, and she could have snapped a bone or given herself a concussion or broken her neck and it was so stupid, so incredibly stupid, and the longer she stewed on it the angrier Sorrow became.
“Dr. Parker has been here before?” she asked.
Grandma nodded.
Sorrow looked at her, eyes narrow. “Has this happened before? The not eating?”
A pause, then another nod.
“Well, I didn’t know that. I had no fucking idea.”
Grandma raised an eyebrow, and Sorrow fidgeted in her chair.
“Sorry. But I think I’m entitled to a little bit of bad language. What are they talking about? What’s Dr. Parker like?”
Grandma toyed with her pen a moment before answering: She has very firm ideas about what’s best.
Sorrow sighed. “Yeah. I don’t like her either.”
That earned her a small smile, and Grandma reached out to squeeze her hand. Sorrow only let go when Dr. Parker and Verity came down the stairs.
“I’m going with Dr. Parker for a while,” Verity said.
Sorrow shoved to her feet. “Going where? Do you need X-rays or something?”
Verity paused at the front door. When she looked back at Sorrow, her expression was tired, but her eyes were clear. “I already told you I’m not hurt. If it rains later, you’ll need to make sure the French drain on the side—where’s Ethan?”
“Uh, he left,” Sorrow said. “You know, after you yelled at him for trying to help?”
Verity looked momentarily chagrined. “He didn’t have to leave.”
“Well, I’m sorry that your favorite kid who you like better than your real kid took off, but will you—what’s that?”
Sorrow pointed. Verity was holding an overnight bag in one hand.
Verity shifted away from her, turning toward the door. She had her purse over her shoulder, a jacket on. She hadn’t just gotten dressed. She had packed to leave.
“Where are you going?” Sorrow said. “Are you leaving?”
Dr. Parker stepped between them. She was still smiling, her expression as mild and pleasant as could be, but her voice was firm when she said, “Go on outside, Verity. I’ll talk to Sorrow for a little bit.”
“Wait, no, don’t—”
But Verity was already going outside, her head ducked and shoulders hunched like she was glad to have Dr. Parker telling her what to do. When the front door snapped shut, Dr. Parker turned to Sorrow and said, “We’re going to my office to talk for a little while, then decide what happens next.”
“What does that mean? Decide what?”
Dr. Parker’s expression was patient and sympathetic. “This is the first time you’ve visited your mother since you were a child, isn’t it?”
There was no censure in her voice, but still Sorrow heard an accusation. “Yeah. But we talk.”
“I know that, and I’ve always thought that was healthy for both of you. But it’s important for you to realize that there’s a lot you don’t know about how your mother manages her illness. Not,” Dr. Parker added pointedly, when Sorrow opened her mouth to respond, “because you don’t care, or because you aren’t old enough to understand, but because it’s very personal and very difficult for her. I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, not after the terrible few days you’ve had, but the fact that Verity called me this morning is a good sign. She’s asking for help, and that’s a good thing.”
Sorrow didn’t like the way Dr. Parker was looking at her, knowingly and maybe a little bit condescendingly, like she was waiting for Sorrow to catch up to something everybody else had already figured out. It didn’t feel like a good thing. It felt like Verity had stopped eating for three days, risked injuring herself seriously with a fall, and then decided to run away, leaving Sorrow and Grandma behind.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Sorrow said. “Where are you going?”
“If she doesn’t feel up to coming home today, we’ll do as we’ve done before and admit her for an observation period,” Dr. Parker explained.
“You mean admit her to a hospital. That’s what you mean, right?”
“It’s a possibility. We’re going to talk about it.”
“But she’s—but before this week, before our neighbor—”
“I know about the Abrams girl.”
“Julie,” Sorrow said, her voice hoarse. “Her name was Julie.”
Dr. Parker nodded slightly. “I know about Julie. And I agree that her death is a large part of why your mother is struggling. But it’s not the only major change in her life recently, is it?”
“No, but—”
She meant Sorrow.
Here, now. Visiting for the first time in eight years. That was what Dr. Parker was talking about. Verity had never invited her. Sorrow had done that all herself. She had insisted. All she had cared about were her own reasons for coming back, and she had never once thought that she might be steamrolling decisions Verity had made to protect herself.
“Sorrow,” Dr. Parker said.
Sorrow hated that she said her name with such familiarity, like they knew each other.
“This isn’t a bad thing. The fact that she recognizes that she has to take care of herself following these difficult days is a good thing.”
“She wasn’t even going to call you until Grandma told her to,” Sorrow pointed out.
Dr. Parker was unfazed. “And it’s good that your grandmother is looking out for her too. Trust me, Sorrow, what Verity is doing right now is exactly what she should be doing to take care of herself. This is her life, and she is handling it the best she can.”
“When will she be back?” Sorrow asked.
“Nothing is decided yet. We’ll be in touch later, okay?” Dr. Parker smiled. “Try not to worry.”