Stand Alone

by P. D. Workman

  “I agree you were good when we were out. Now  … now you’re screaming and acting like a two year old again. Cool it. If you want to get your board back, you have to do more than just run errands with me one day. The next thing you need to do is to clean up your mess. So get to it.”

  Justine stomped to the front door and waited while Em unlocked and opened it.

  “I’m too tired to clean,” she told Em as they walked in through the door.

  Em glanced at her and shrugged.

  “That’s too bad.”

  “What’s that mean?” Justine questioned, her stomach a rock-hard knot of anxiety.

  “You seem to be sabotaging yourself. You know that you have to obey me and be mature to get your board back. But then you refuse to do what you have to. So maybe you don’t really want it. Maybe I should just give it away.”

  Justine shoved Em. She felt like there were fireworks going off in her head. Em hit the wall with the force of Justine’s push, and she looked surprised and frightened.

  “Just tell me where it is,” Justine said. “No more games. You give me my board back, or I’m gonna  … I’m gonna hurt you,” she threatened in a low voice.

  “Justine. Take a deep breath. Go have a drink of cold water. You can’t put your hands on me.”

  “I’m gonna kill you! You can’t give my board away! You can’t—you can’t just take everything away from me!”

  Justine’s hands were clenched into fists. Every muscle in her body was knotted with fury.

  Em said nothing, waiting. Justine saw her swallow. Saw the tightening around her lips and her nostrils as she watched Justine. Like an animal scenting the enemy. Looking for a vantage point.

  “I’m not going to give it away,” Em said.

  Justine let out her breath. Relief flooded through her.

  “What?” she questioned, wanting to hear it again. Wanting to be reassured.

  “I’m not going to give your board away, okay? Just calm down. I shouldn’t have said that. I was being facetious.”

  A shudder ran through Justine’s body.

  “You can’t give it away,” she begged again.

  “No. I’m not giving it away. I’ll give it back to you when you’ve earned it back.”

  “Today?”

  “No, not today. You have to keep working at it today. But not yet. Right now, you need to get yourself a drink and relax for a few minutes. Chill out. Get your head back on straight.”

  Justine’s stomach quivered. She felt like she’d been crying for hours, but she hadn’t been crying at all. Just fighting herself. She gave Em a scowl, and went upstairs to her room.

  Later, Justine walked into the living room, where Em was watching one of her stupid talk shows, and picked up the TV remote. She started to flip the channels, looking for something good to watch.

  “Justine! I was already watching something,” Em remonstrated.

  “Yeah, that show is just stupid. I’ve been working on stupid chores all day, and I need to watch something to relax for a while. All you’ve been doing is sitting around.”

  Em’s eyes widened.

  “Oh yes? Who made the meals that you ate today, hmm? The only chores that you’ve been asked to do are to clean up the messes you made earlier in the day. It isn’t like I’ve had you out washing the windows or painting the house or something. Now switch back to my show, and give me the remote back.”

  “No, you’ve been watching for hours. It’s my turn now.”

  “Justine. I’ve been watching for half an hour, and you turned my show off right in the middle. Go find something else to do, or watch the show that I already had on.”

  “Why can’t I have my own TV in my room? Then I could watch what I wanted to, it wouldn’t matter what you had on.”

  “You isolate yourself enough without a TV in your room too. Let’s watch this together. Come on. Come sit down.” Em patted the couch beside her.

  Justine sat down across the room, browsing through the channel guide.

  “Justine. You can’t just walk into the room and start changing the channels. How would you like it if one of your friends did that to you?” her voice was calm and cool.

  “You’re not my friend,” Justine pointed out.

  “You should be even nicer to your family than to your friends. Please give me the remote back. We can watch together.”

  “No.”

  Em cocked her head at Justine, saying nothing. She didn’t need to say anything to make her point. She’d already repeated it enough times today. Heat flared across Justine’s face.

  “Is that gonna be the answer to everything?” she demanded. “I have to do everything that you say, or I can’t have my board back?”

  “Are you going to be a mature and responsible girl?”

  “Does that mean doing everything you say? When can I have my board back?”

  “I don’t want everything to hinge on when you can have your board back. Are you just going to stop doing what you’re asked once you get your board back?”

  “Yes,” Justine asserted.

  “Then why would I give you your board back?”

  “You have to give my board back!” Justine shouted. “You said you would.”

  “And I will,” Em soothed, “but I don’t want the skateboard to be the only reason that you try to be good.”

  Justine scowled.

  “You can’t make me feel how you want too,” she growled.

  “I guess not. I just wish I could make you understand, make you want to get along and to understand why I ask you to do the things that I do.”

  Justine turned the channel back to Em’s talk show and tossed the remote back at her.

  “Where are you going?” Em questioned, as she headed back up the stairs.

  “To my room. I’ll listen to my music.”

  “You could go on the computer,” Em suggested, nodding to the computer.

  Justine shook her head.

  “I don’t want to have to look at you,” she snarled.

  “Bed by ten o’clock.”

  “Midnight,” Justine countered, starting to walk up the stairs again.

  “No; bed by ten o’clock. I want to make sure you get enough sleep so you aren’t grouchy. I have an optometrist appointment tomorrow that you’ll need to come along to.”

  Justine shot Em a look and went upstairs to her room.

  It had been a rough week.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on with her,” Em told Dr. Morton before he went into his inner office to talk to Justine. “Things have been really bad this week. I’ve been trying to do like you always say, being firm but fair, giving her limits, all that stuff  … But she’s been going off at the slightest thing. Everything is a fight. The police have been by twice because of her screaming and tantrums. She pushed me once, and threatened me, and I was afraid she was really going to hurt me.”

  Dr. Morton looked serious at this.

  “Did you tell the police that?”

  “They didn’t come that time.”

  “You can call them, if you think you are in danger,” he reminded Em.

  “I know. I managed to diffuse it. But if I hadn’t  … I might have had to call the police.”

  Dr. Morton considered this for a few moments in silence, the nodded.

  “Okay. Well, I’ll have a talk with her. See if we can sort it out.”

  Justine eyed Dr. Morton as be came in. She stretched her legs across the arm of the chair and slumped cradled in the middle of it. Dr. Morton gave her a friendly smile.

  “How are you today, Justine?” he questioned.

  “Hasn’t the wicked witch of the west filled you in yet?” Justine questioned, nodding toward the waiting room where Em had been talking to him.

  “She said you’ve been having problems,” he said, his smile persisting.

  Justine snorted at the understatement.

  “She said I’ve been having problems? Things keep going lik
e this, and I’m gonna kill her!” Justine said forcefully.

  Dr. Morton raised his eyebrows.

  “Justine,” he reproved.

  “You think I’m just being dramatic?” Justine questioned, her tone rising. “You think that I’m just playing games? I’m gonna punch her teeth in the next time she tells me to do something! Or slit her throat in the night!”

  “Exactly what is the problem?” Morton questioned, making a calming motion with his hands.

  “She stole my board, and she won’t give it back. She keeps saying that she’ll give it back if I earn it by doing what she says, but she won’t give it back! It doesn’t matter what I do, I still haven’t earned it back. If I knew where it was, I would just bash her head in and go get it!”

  “What board?” Morton questioned blankly.

  “My skateboard! The way I get around! She won’t let me out of the house, unless she wants to take me out with her. I want my board back! It’s mine! You tell her she has to give it back to me!”

  “I’m not going to interfere in the discipline—”

  “You tell her how to do discipline all the time,” Justine interrupted. “So tell her to give my board back. She doesn’t and I’m gonna explode!”

  Her heart was pounding. She could feel it in the pulses of her temples. She had a splitting headache and her stomach felt tight and sick. When she looked at Dr. Morton, there seemed to be blackness around the edges of her vision. Dr. Morton studied her, brows drawn down. His usual Hollywood veneer was gone, and he looked completely engaged for once.

  “You don’t usually talk violently about your mother. You talk about leaving, or about her bugging you, but you don’t talk about hurting her.”

  Justine nodded, leaning toward him.

  “Yeah, that’s right,” she asserted, “so you’d better believe me when I do!”

  “I believe you, Justine. I can see how upset you are.”

  “Good.” She leaned back again. “So you’ll tell her to give it back? She keeps saying she’ll give it back, but every time I make a mistake, she says I lose points and haven’t earned it back yet. It’s not fair!”

  Her throat hurt with the force of her raised voice.

  “I know. It feels very important to you. You think getting it back is impossible. You’re frustrated.”

  Justine nodded. She kicked her feet angrily.

  “Not fair,” she repeated.

  “You’re very stressed. Can we do a guided relaxation exercise?”

  Justine’s lip curled into a scowl. Her whole face was creased with her anger.

  “I don’t need any hocus pocus right now.”

  “I know that you don’t think it will help, but it will make a difference. First, close your eyes.”

  Justine stared at the wall.

  “Closing my eyes makes me anxious,” she said.

  It made her too vulnerable. Anything could happen when she closed her eyes.

  “Take three deep breaths,” Dr. Morton went on, his voice low and soothing, ignoring her protest.

  Justine tried to force long, deep breathing. The rapid beating of her heart made her chest hurt, like she was drowning in the air.

  “Keep breathing,” Dr. Morton droned, “nice and slow.”

  Justine blew her breath out noisily, frustrated. She couldn’t relax.

  “Imagine somewhere you like to be,” he told her. “Somewhere you feel safe.”

  Justine tried to think of a place. Not home, obviously. Not school. And thinking about Christian or skating just made her more angry.

  “How about an empty house,” Dr. Morton suggested, watching her face.

  Justine shot him a look, surprised at his insight. She pictured an empty house, pictured herself inside of it. She imagined lying on the floor, listening to the distant sound of voices. All alone. The feeling of the rough carpet on her cheek. A sickly smell of decay. She could still hear Dr. Morton’s voice, far away, giving her instructions.

  “Nice slow breaths  … relax your hands  … tense and relax your toes  … breathing in  … out  … relax the muscles of your face, your neck  …” Her eyes closed of their own accord. “You’re floating, your stress drifts away  … you can see the things you are worried about, but they don’t affect you  … you’re able to observe them  …”

  Justine floated, her body finally relaxing and her heart slowing for the first time in a week. Her thought processes numbed. Her body melted into the chair.

  Dr. Morton met with Em at the end of the session time slot. She was looking frazzled, not the usual chic, perfectly put-together professional persona that she usually exuded. The new difficulties with Justine were obviously wearing on her.

  “I have some concerns,” he admitted.

  “I told you she’s been out of control since she got back from the hospital. It doesn’t matter what I do for her or how firm I am with discipline, she just keeps escalating.”

  “Has she been trying to comply with your requests?”

  “Some of the time,” Em said reluctantly.

  “Then, I think you’re going to have to give her skateboard back now.”

  Em shook her head adamantly.

  “That’s the only thing that motivates her. If I give it back, she’s not going to do anything I ask.”

  “If you don’t give it back,” Dr. Morton said, “this whole thing is going to blow up in your face. She’s already at breaking point. Honestly, I’m surprised she made it this far and has only pushed you once. She’s talking about  …” he hesitated a moment, trying to decide how much to say, “… a whole lot worse than that.”

  “That’s just talk,” Em brushed it off.

  “No. It’s not.” Dr. Morton considered the best way to convince Em of how serious he was. “If you’re not going to give her the skateboard back, I’m not going to be able to let her go home with you today. It would be irresponsible of me.”

  “Not going to  … ?” Em echoed, looking stunned. “What do you mean, not going to let her go home with me? Where else would she go?”

  “Foster home or psychiatric hold. Maybe just emergency respite today. But knowing her mental state, and that she’s fantasizing about  … hurting you  … Well, I couldn’t live with myself, if I let her hurt you.”

  Em’s face was pure white. She shook her head in disbelief.

  “She’s gotten bad before, but you’ve never suggested  …”

  “Then you need to realize that I don’t do it lightly. If you give the board back, I think she’ll calm down, and be able to get back on track. But if you are determined to keep it away from her any longer, I’m going to have to intervene.”

  “I was just doing what you said to. Setting consequences, setting up motivations, and sticking to it. Setting rules and being firm.”

  Dr. Morton knew that consistency had been a problem for Em in the past. Now she was determined to persist in holding the skateboard hostage, even when doing so could be dangerous to her.

  “You admit that you don’t want to give it back because she’ll just stop trying. So you’ve made it impossible for her to ever earn it back, and she knows it. She knows it’s hopeless, and she’s giving up.”

  Em chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about it. She finally nodded.

  “If she’s giving up, then it’s not a motivation anymore anyway,” she mused. “I may as well give it back.”

  “Do you want to go over some more appropriate rules and consequences together? So that you have something else to try?” Dr. Morton suggested.

  Em sighed and shook her head.

  “No, I’ll figure it out. Those things never really work for Justine.”

  Dr. Morton turned to go back into the office where Justine was waiting. Then he paused, thinking through how it would play out.

  “Is the board somewhere it can be easily retrieved?” he questioned.

  “I’ll have to pick it up from the office.”r />
  “Do you want to go get it now, and then come back for Justine?”

  “Why?”

  “I have her in a relaxed state right now. It won’t make any difference to her to have to wait. Once I bring her out, it probably won’t take long to escalate back to where she was before. If we have the board here to give to her, it would prevent her from escalating. You wouldn’t have to deal with any crap on the way over to get it, and I can facilitate and make sure she is okay before leaving.”

  Em shrugged.

  “Sure, that’s okay, I guess,” she agreed, “as long as it doesn’t mean I have to pay for a second session.”

  “No, it will be included.”

  Em nodded slowly.

  “Okay,” she agreed, “I’ll go get it.”

  Justine reluctantly became aware of Dr. Morton’s voice.

  “Justine. Justine, it’s time to wake up now,” he urged her, his voice calm and soothing. Justine’s eyelids tightened, trying to keep consciousness from returning. Trying to stay in that place she had found where she could just float freely and not be anxious and upset. “It’s okay. You will wake up slowly, and stay calm. You will feel rested and positive.”

  Justine shook her head, trying to stay under. But like holding her breath under water, eventually her body insisted on surfacing. She opened her eyes grudgingly and looked at Dr. Morton. He smiled, leaning forward toward her slightly.

  “How are you doing?” he questioned softly.

  Justine stretched, and massaged her neck. She’d fallen asleep with a crick in it. It cracked as she moved it around.

  “Better,” she admitted.

  She could breathe now. The headache was gone and her heart was no longer racing. She didn’t feel like the top of her head was ready to blow off. But as soon as she started thinking about Em, and going back home, her heart started to speed up again. Justine startled when she heard a noise behind her. Dr. Morton’s eyes flashed in that direction, and Justine turned around in her chair and saw that Em was in the room. Justine struggled to keep her expression blank, not to react with a snarl at the sight of her tormentor. Only a second or two passed before she saw her board in Em’s grip. Justine jumped to her feet.