by Mira Monroe
I laugh. “Oh, goody. Something happen to Coral?”
Emily nods.
“Wait, what?”
Lucy, behind Emily, looks solemn compared to Emily’s obvious excitement; whatever it is, it must be bad.
“Whoa, calm down Em. What happened?” I ask quietly. There are a few people looking over our way.
“Aw, well, it was epic! So, after assembly, I had World History with her, and she had this nosebleed. Nothing big, but like, it wouldn’t stop. Tissue after tissue. She was wiping away her makeup with it, blood and foundation mixed up, so gross. It got everywhere, and Ms. Johnston, old bottle glasses, was like blind to it. She told Coral to get a little princess grip and deal until after class, to see the nurse. It was hilarious; the extravagant fit Coral was throwing. Then Lucy came in at the bell, and Coral ran into her and SPLAT! Coral, face-down, nose busted! Her skirt up over her ass.” Emily is wide-eyed and giggling.
“I think she chipped a tooth,” Lucy says. “I was sent from the library, during my free period, to deliver a few books Ms. Johnston wanted. I feel horrible.”
“Whatevs, you shouldn’t. It was an accident. Coral is as mean as a rattlesnake. Happy to see she bleeds like the rest of us.”
I can’t believe it. She got a nosebleed. Karma is on my side. I grin at my friends. “Did she go home?”
“Coast is clear. No more Coral sightings,” Emily says. “This is gonna be a great year; I can feel it!”
Lucy’s eyes are cast down to the ground as we exit the school. My phone sounds with a text from Daniel; he has football practice and will call me later. I beam, getting into Lucy’s car.
I try to reassure Lucy in the driveway at my house, but her mood stays the same. She turns up her stereo and heads back down the driveway. She must be worried about a Coral repercussion. She’s famous for them. Strangely, I’m not worried. Bring it.
Chapter Three
It’s only three in the afternoon, and I have an hour and a half before my appointment with Dr. Evan. So like most well-adjusted academic kids, I decide to goof off and get a snack and watch some TV. Duke and I take our usual spot in the living room. I’m sipping on my Coke and noshing on kettle chips when I hear the back door. Duke perks up and then lays back down on my feet.
“Mrs. Scott?”
I get up to help her and see Chef is with her, carrying in some bags as well. “What’s going on?”
“Special dinner tonight. Didn’t I tell you that this morning?” Mrs. Scott is putting items away in the pantry. Her hair is messy and she is looking and counting items franticly.
“No. I don’t remember, who is coming over?”
“It’s a family dinner meeting of some sort; your father has requested you join.”
“I have my doctor’s appointment until 6, and was hoping to hang out with Daniel later,” I whine.
Gah, let me get out of this.
I leave shortly after trying to get more information out of Mrs. Scott, which reveals nothing, because she doesn’t know anything more. I’m hung on the word family. It’s just me and my father, but family sounds intriguing.
I hit the button to sound that I’m at the door of Dr. Evan’s office. The receptionist isn’t at her desk to see me through the glass door and let me in. Instead, Dr. Evan walks over and hits the button himself.
“Sorry about that. Heather is out sick today,” he says. A couple smiling and holding hands walk out as I walk in, his previous clients. Wow, couples’ counseling and they are smiling? Okay, maybe Dr. Evan isn’t a quack after all.
The office is quiet as I follow him to the end of the hallway where his office is. He opens the door and gestures me to the chaise lounge, then goes to his desk to retrieve a notebook and pen. I see he has several files on his desk, and he closes one. It’s not like I can see it from here.
“So, how was the first day of senior year?” he asks.
“It was good. Typical, and a little bit of karma for a girl who needs it.”
“How so? Why do you say this girl needs it?”
I smile. I shouldn’t have opened with that. Counselors and their probing questions can’t just let a dog lie. “This girl, Coral. Well, she’s a bitch, and she’s Daniel’s ex-girlfriend. She’s nasty to everyone, sits on a high throne. She got knocked down a peg today with an accident. What’s interesting is I was thinking about this accident, and karma delivered it, so yeah universe!” I pump my arm and laugh.
He leans forward, looking more serious than before. “So, you thought of what should happen, and it did?”
Ice breaking playtime over.
“Kinda.” I tuck my legs under so I’m sitting cross-legged on the chaise.
“I just saw her hugging Daniel, and she was giving me this look… so I briefly thought ‘nosebleed.’ An innocuous thought, right?”
“A nosebleed?”
“Well, the way my friend described it, it wasn’t a simple nosebleed. She ran out of class, then ran into another person and fell, possibly chipped a tooth in the process.”
Why was I feeling bad all of a sudden? I shook my head to clear it.
“Coral had a rough day, by the sound of it.” Evan’s lips curve upward.
I nod.
“Tell me, were you happy about Coral’s accident? It’s interesting that you thought it and it happened.”
Where is this going? “It’s a coincidence. Coral isn’t just mean to me and my friends. She and her crew are nasty to everyone. Everyone is beneath her. I hate that.”
“It’s interesting that sometimes your coincidences are a trending thing. In Dr. Bauche’s notes, you wanted to hurt the boy who attacked you. You wanted to break his arm and throw him backward. It all happened, and then the fire was something you envisioned as well.”
“No, no, that’s completely different. I was overwhelmed with adrenaline, and I was able to break free. I can’t help it that his arm broke. It was at a funny angle, I’m guessing the way I turned put pressure on it and broke it. The fire… that wasn’t me at all! There were trashcans around that were burning. I was in a bad part of town and it… there were homeless around. I think someone helped me.”
“Why were you in Boston, Willow?”
“I got turned around. We just moved to Chepstow, and I was there with Mrs. Scott shopping. We were going to meet up at this one store. I dunno, it was all just messed up.” I stammered.
“Do you blame Mrs. Scott?”
I untuck my legs and stand. “No! Why would you say that?”
“She wasn’t there to help you when you needed her.” Dr. Evan stands up and places his notebook on the desk, then ushers me back to the chaise. “I’m simply curious as to your thoughts on this. How you ended up alone. How you ended up in that alley. How you got away relatively unharmed, but your attacker was hospitalized with multiple injuries.”
“My thoughts? My thoughts?! I tell you what, that jackoff was telling the court he was trying to help me when I attacked him! He has a record of assault and molestation, and he was blackmailing my father with his lies.” I’m breathing faster. I know that if I don’t get control, the tears will fall.
Breathe, Willow. Breathe.
“I don’t want to get into this. It’s over. Why can’t the past be the past, and we just move onward?” I wrap my arms around myself and lean back into the chaise, closing my eyes.
“The why is that you refuse to acknowledge the past and how it affects who you are. You block it, as a self-protection mechanism, even though it’s not protecting you at all.”
“I don’t know what you mean”
Dr. Evan pushes his hand through his hair. “Willow, your accident with your mother. You blame yourself, when by all accounts of the car accident, it was purely an accident in which you survived and your mother did not. In fact, she most likely saved you by getting you out of that car. You blame yourself for the attack in the alley, and how your father came to your aid through the legal system with the plea deal to make it all go away. Again, it was not
your fault. You protected yourself and got carried away at the closed proceedings that prompted this therapy.” He points back and forth between us. “Your blame is misplaced, and you will have hard situations coming your way that you will need to be able to navigate through without self-sabotage. This is why regressive therapy is a good option, but you have to be open to it.”
My collar is wet. I touch my cheek, and my face is wet. Shit, I’m crying.
“You’re angry, and rightly so. You need to be able to release this anger and not implode.”
That’s a first. Dr. Bauche wanted me to adjust the focus on the positive, the future, blah blah blah. Dr. Evan the past?
“What, like join martial arts or something?” I shrug.
“Sure, or something.” Dr. Evan’s eyes shimmer.
I look away because I don’t want to acknowledge him, sitting casually in the chair across from the chaise.
“Willow?” He smiles. “You’re more capable than you know. Deep down, you have… a magick inside you that you’ve tucked away. That needs release. It’s a connection to who you are and what you are capable of.”
Dr. Evan is now sitting next to me.
“What, like yin and yang?”
He nods. “How about we get started this session. Are you open to this?”
I scoot back so my back is flush with the chaise. “I dunno. I have to be back for a family dinner thing. Will this be longer than our scheduled time?” I look at the small clock on the side table next to his chair and see I have less than half an hour left.
Dr. Evan’s face changes. It’s unreadable. He no longer looks sympathetic. Now he looks more stoned over and a bit angry. Why does it matter to me if he’s angry?
“What do I have to do?” I look down at my feet.
“You need to be open-minded and allow me to put you under hypnosis. Your subconscious will walk you through the past for you to understand those events better.”
“Will it hurt?” I ask.
“No, not at all. Typically, you’ll feel refreshed afterward.”
“My father is aware, you said?”
He nods in confirmation.
“Okay, then let’s get started.”
Dr. Evan stands up and takes something out of his pocket, then pushes the chair closer to the chaise. I put my hands under my legs to steady myself. He’s rocking a flower pendant in his hand and holds its chain loosely. Looking at it closely, I realize it isn’t a flower. It’s an intricate design of wrapping loops and circles, and it has that familiar feeling.
“What is that design?” I ask.
“It’s call a Triquetra, the balance of the mind, body and spirit. A Celtic symbol.”
I repeat, Triquetra and feel a tingle in my leg like it’s falling asleep. I squirm to adjust how I’m sitting.
He begins swinging the pendant. It shimmers under the lights and follows a path of its curving design, where the three like petals intersect and are connected by a circle.
“I want you to listen carefully to my voice and relax, Willow. This is a place of safety.”
My shoulders dip and my body sways. I watch the silver pendant swing back and forth, back and forth.
“Count with me—”
“One, two, three, four…”
Chapter Four
At home, I sit in the kitchen at the nook, holding my warm cup of tea. Staring out the windows, I feel at ease but sad for some reason. How can you feel sad about something you can’t remember?
I can’t recount what I said during hypnosis with Dr. Evan; he said it was common. But I should feel a sense of clarity over the next day. He gave me his personal cell number, should I have any questions. When I asked him what I said, he wasn’t straight with me, and I knew it. He asked for patience and said we’d talk more when I could recall for myself more.
Has he worked with many teenagers? Seriously? Asking for patience when I wasn’t all hip to this idea in the first place?!
The back door slams, and I jump in my seat. Mrs. Scott is standing there.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Mrs. Scott hurries by me and heads for the pantry on the other side of the kitchen. “Why don’t you go ahead and clean up? Company will be here shortly.”
“Who is coming over?” I ask.
“Your father didn’t say. I think it’s some distant family member. I get the impression he was surprised, since we didn’t have the event in our calendar.” She pops a cashew in her mouth from the bowl I set on the counter.
“Is he home from the office?” I ask.
“He’s on his way, he had a late afternoon meeting.”
I eat some of the trail mix from the bowl, then head up the back stairs to my room. My door is ajar, and I push it open to find Duke sleeping on my bed.
“Duke, you do realize you have your own bed, right?” He lifts his head and starts to stretch.
My cell phone buzzes in my backpack and Duke is up and out of my room when I retrieve my phone.
Deserter.
I have several texts, and click first on Daniel’s.
Sr camp trip? Didn’t get to talk about it t-day. Headin’ to work will call t-night.
I texted him back to fill him in, then ended with a kiss emoji that had me smiling as I hit send. Why do silly yellow pictures of facial expressions give so much more extra meaning?
The final text was from Lucy: Sorry about this afternoon. It was just Em, getting on my nerves. I don’t like seeing anyone hurt, even if it is Coral. Gah, shoot me.
I text back: I get it. You have to admit Coral’s a bitch… oops, I meant Karma.
She replies: LOL, let’s hope it gives me some slack.
I write back: Stop worrying.
Then the FaceTime app pops up with Lucy’s grin. Lucy’s in her bedroom, sitting at her desk in the corner of her room by all her books. They’re piled up from the floor like the Eiffel Tower. “Okay, I’m done sulking. What’s going on?”
I tell her about the mysterious dinner that I need to get ready for in half an hour.
Lucy’s eyes open wide, sucking in her breath. “What are you going to wear?”
I smirk, “are you Emily?”
Lucy belts loud laughter at this point. I’m laughing with her. Stress bounds off us both. It takes us almost a full minute to stop laughing. We hang up, and I immediately fret about what to wear.
A closet full of clothes is daunting when you’re not sure what to wear; everything looks wrong. It’s all wrong. Do I dress up for family? The safe bet, I decide, is to put on a pair of nondescript black pants and a typical sweater set. At my dresser, I finish up my routine. I brush my long dark-blonde hair and tuck it behind my ear. The last accessory at my dresser are my earrings, simple pearls that were my mother’s. I’m out the door, heading to the beige and maroon abyss of the designer decorated house. The decorator decided the accent color would be maroon, to represent my father’s commanding place in the world. Of course, over time, I noticed her eyes lingered on my father whenever she was over, and I wanted to yack. Thank god I was able to divert her decorating eyes from my room, where I worked with Mrs. Scott to have bright colors everywhere.
I walk down the hallway, trying to hurry, but when you’re situated at the back of a 10,000 square foot house, it’s difficult to get anywhere quickly. I round the large staircase that gets me to the front of the house. I hear someone talking, then see it’s a woman and my father.
I stop in my tracks, and a vision of her crying flashes before my eyes. It’s gone in an instant with the blink of my eyes. Do I know her?
Her long red hair waves as she turns, and she puts her hands to her mouth. I start down the stairs toward them tentatively.
My father comes to the stairs and says, “I would like to introduce you to your…”
She walks toward me and the stairs. Her eyes are glistening with tears and she says, “I’m your grandmother. Sabine MacKinnon.”
She looks familiar, but she doesn’t look like my mother. Mother was blonde,
and I look more like her than Sabine does with that bright red hair. She doesn’t look too much older than my father, to be my grandmother. I realize I’m assessing her and haven’t come off the stairs yet. I step forward to shake her hand but instead get pulled into a hug. It feels awkward and familiar.
“I’ve waited so long, and I’m so sorry,” she says in a whisper.
Why is my heart beating so fast? I can’t comprehend that my grandmother is hugging me right now. I thought she had disowned me, but the details were fuzzy. Father had always clammed up when I asked innocent questions over the years, so I dropped it. Not like anyone from mother’s side of the family ever reached out to me.
Sabine lets go and I move back from her, but she keeps her hands on my forearms. “You look just like our Nuala. Oh, Willow, I’m so happy to finally be back in your life.”
I look at my father, who is tense and standing like an oak tree in the foyer.
“Back in my life?” I question.
Mrs. Scott appears and announces that dinner is ready. My father escorts Sabine to the formal dining room. There is an extra place setting.
“Is someone else joining us?” I ask my father in a tone that is a little more accusatory than I intended.
He sits down while watching Sabine take her seat.
She lowers her eyes. “I’m sorry to say that, no, it’s just me this evening.” She places her hands on her lap and looks at me with crystal blue eyes full of sorrow. “Your grandfather, my husband, Harkin, recently passed away. He wanted to be here. I like to think he is, in some way, here in spirit.”
Sitting next to her, I feel her sadness and want to comfort her. I want to reach out and touch her shoulder or hand, but I don’t know her.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It felt strange as soon as I said it.
It was my loss, too, though. A grandfather I’d never known, already gone. I guess that’s true for many in my family. My father’s parents died when he was younger, too.
“I have something for you.”
Sabine reaches into her flowing skirt pocket and pulls out a rectangular jewelry box.