Arcadia's Gift - By Jesi Lea Ryan Page 0,32

leaned against his work truck, talking to someone through his bluetooth. I didn’t know he was coming, but the pleasure at seeing him improved my melancholy. Mom didn’t have quite the same reaction.

"Julia," my father greeted with a bob of the head. He'd been calling the house every night to check in with Aaron and me, but Mom refused to speak to him.

With her lips pursed tightly, Mom wound her arm around my shoulders possessively and said, "Tim. We didn't expect to see you here. Do you have an appointment also?"

"Well, no, Julia, I'm here to support our daughter."

I hated this tension. It was so thick I was suffocating.

"Let's just go inside," I suggested, stalking off and not caring if they followed or not. I was so sick of the fighting. You'd think they could be a little kinder to each other in light of their daughter’s death, but instead, the accident seemed to sever any lingering ties there might have been between them.

We entered the waiting room. Mom notified the receptionist we were here, then settled into a chair and roughly flipped through the pages of an outdated issue of Glamour.

Dad blew out a long breath of air and took the seat opposite her. He glanced at the magazines on the coffee table, but didn't see anything of interest. I gave him a weak smile which he returned just as weakly.

"Arcadia Day?" a woman called from the doorway leading back to the doctor's offices. All three of us stood and followed her down the hall where she invited us to sit on a couch in a comfortable looking office with purple walls and a stack of toys on the floor in the corner.

"It’s nice to meet you, Arcadia. I'm Dr. Carrick, but you may call me Elaine. I like to keep things informal in this room. I find it helps us to get to know each other."

Elaine had one of those unfortunate faces with a weak chin overshadowed by a large overbite. Her nose pointed long and straight like a beak. Her eyes were soft and gentle though, the kind that might belong to a priest or grandmother in some movie where things were stereotypical and perfect.

"It's Cady," I said. "Arcadia is also too formal."

Elaine smiled and talked to my parents for a few minutes about what the goals were for my treatment and what they wanted me to get out of it. When that was done, she excused them to wait for me back in the other room.

The soft click of the door closing behind them brought back my nervousness. Sitting in a room with a shrink makes a person self-conscious. I stopped picking at my cuticles and folded my hands in my lap.

"So, Cady," she began. "Why don't you tell me about how you’ve been since your sister's death. I understand you were in the hospital also."

Elaine was very easy to talk to, but I wasn't sure how much I trusted her. I started telling her about how each person in the family was dealing, omitting the part about my mother's drug stupors. I told her about my attempt to go back to school, but glossed over the details as to why I felt I had to leave after one class. Before I knew it, the hour passed, and I left with an appointment for the next week.

As we were leaving, Dad asked if I wanted to have a late lunch with him. I knew I shouldn't let my mom drive herself home, and besides, I had plans to meet with Bronwyn. The glint in his eyes dimmed when I asked for a rain check, making me feel both guilty and sad at the same time. He gave me a tight hug before climbing into his truck and driving away.

Mother was quiet in the car on the way home. Elaine had stressed during our session the importance of maintaining an open dialog with people to prevent feeling alone in my grief. I figured that was Mom's problem. She hadn't been dialoging with anyone except Prince Valium. Since I had her captive, I decided to confront her.

"Mom, I'm worried about you."

I felt her stiffen in the seat beside me, but she didn't say anything in response.

"I was thinking that until you’re feeling better, maybe we could have that maid come in a couple times a week. I know how an ordered house always makes you happy."

Mom stared out the window a long moment before answering.

"Happy," she whispered as