said.
“Do you always push back when people are honest with you, or is this another one of the masks you use to hide disappointment and confliction?”
“You’re the therapist. You tell me.”
“I feel like it’s your go-to for deflection of emotion,” Madeline said. “You create an unmovable wall between others and yourself, hoping they’ll give up and surrender to your inability to compromise.”
“I was willing to compromise and talk to you, under the agreement you wouldn’t take notes. You weren’t willing to meet me halfway, so I’m not talking. How is that deflecting my emotions?”
“You tell me,” she said.
My brow furrowed as the stranger in front of me grew more frustrating by the second. She didn’t know me. She knew absolutely nothing about me. Unless …
“You said you give your notes to my aunt after each session,” I said. “Why?”
“So she can keep a running record of your progress while you’re here.”
“What for?”
“I think you know,” Madeline said. She pulled her glasses from her face, her dark brown eyes surveying me from where she sat. Accusation sat within them, mixed with a tinge of sympathy that left me on edge.
“Ask yourself what the primary reason for Loraine scheduling these sessions would be, then apply it to yourself. What is it you need to work on most? What issue or issues have driven you to a point in life where you find yourself here?”
“I’m here because my parents forced me to be here,” I said. “Because if I didn’t agree to come either here or to boarding school, they’d withhold a college fund that is rightfully mine.”
“Why would they withhold it?”
“I don’t know, Madeline. Why don’t you call them and ask?”
She shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “You’re back to deflection, Alex. Take a moment and recognize that behavior. Based on the tone in your voice, I believe what you’re feeling lies somewhere between anger and annoyance.”
“This is stupid,” I groaned.
“Answer my question and we’ll proceed.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, my attention shifting to a tiny trail of ants making their way across the gazebo’s concrete floor. It must be a requirement for therapists to take a crash course in how to piss people off. Both Madeline and Dr. Heichman were experts at it.
“Why would they withhold a college fund that is rightfully yours?” she said.
“Because I failed my last year of high school, so now they think I can’t make good decisions,” I said, glaring at her. “There. Happy?”
“Have you made poor decisions before?”
“Have you made poor decisions before?” I snapped.
She paused, an emotionless mask pasted to her face. She wasn’t giving me anything in regard to response. At least Dr. Heichman got frazzled from time to time. This woman was a stone-wall. My inability to get a rise out of her frustrated me more.
“Based on what your aunt has disclosed, I would assume you’ve—”
“I’ve made one or two bad decisions,” I said, cutting her off. “I’m human. I never claimed to be perfect. I never wanted to be perfect.”
“No one is perfect, Alex.”
I pulled my lip between my teeth, my heart pounding as my conversation with Grant replayed through my mind. No. No one was perfect. Especially someone who would allow something so heinous to happen to someone she cared about.
“In your lifetime, you’re allowed to make the wrong choice. That’s what living is. It’s a series of complicated decisions and our ability to weave through them, doing the best we can to pick the right path along the way. But I think where you’re getting hung up on your progress is in thinking that people want perfection from you, when in reality they just want you to be okay. Your aunt, and I’m sure your parents, are just legitimately concerned for your well-being.”
I swallowed, the words slicing through me like a knife.
“And they don’t think you’ve internalized all the grieving emotions you needed to. You haven’t moved on, Alex. You’re stuck in a self-loathing mentality that’s breaking you down mentally and emotionally, and you either don’t see it or won’t accept it.”
“How am I supposed to accept it?” I said, staring at her. “How do I go back to normal when my life is everything but normal?”
“You take it day by day and do the best you can.”
“And what about everyone else?” I said. “You want me to move on? Okay. Tell me how I do that when the decision I made destroyed a family. My decision ruined people’s lives. I can’t just