“Grandma, they need help,” Kylie said. “Don’t you want to help?”
Reluctantly, Mom retrieved the black dress. “What should I do with this?”
Micki nearly fell apart with excitement. “How about a witch?”
Mom smirked. “Sounds about right.”
I felt a surge of something in the neighborhood of hope, kind of a restrained optimism. Mom was talking to Micki, or at least in her direction. She had agreed to dress up. This was a start, and starts could be good even if they didn’t lead to a perfect finish.
“Oh, that looks great, Sophie!” Micki exclaimed when Mom was done. “Grab a broom and stick next to Sandy. He’ll show you how it’s done.”
Mom looked less than pleased, but she grabbed the broom and let Radha give her caterpillar eyebrows and black lips. Radha then sprayed her hair with something that made it stick straight up in the air. “It’s really easy to scare people in there,” Radha said. “All you need to do is creep around and jump in front them. Say something like, ‘I’ll get you, my pretty!’”
“Easy enough,” Mom said. She drew a black mole on the point of her chin. I couldn’t believe it—my mom was getting into it!
I threw on a dress made of rags, donned a gray wig, ringed my eyes in black, and smeared some whitish-gray stuff on my face. “Ready,” I said when I looked sufficiently scary.
Sandy appeared, drooling blood and smiling from ear to ear. “Oh, good! We need you out there!” After a second of surprise at seeing my mother, Sandy took her with him, and Kylie and I followed Micki and Radha.
“Ally, stand by the headstones with your arms outstretched. If you can manage a bloodcurdling scream, that would be great,” Micki directed.
I laughed. “I thought zombies couldn’t talk.”
“They can scream,” Micki said. “And it sounds awful.”
“I think I can manage that.”
“What about me?” Kylie said.
Micki stopped short. “How brave are you feeling? I need to know right now.”
I watched Kylie work through her thoughts. You are so strong, I wanted to tell her, but she needed to come to the conclusion herself.
“Pretty brave,” she said with determination.
Micki stretched out her hand. “Then you will command the hounds of hell.”
Kylie almost yanked her hand back. “I’ll what?”
“When people first come into the haunted house, there are two mechanical wolves. You’ll stand between them. There’s a remote control with a button that you’ll push to make them howl and snap at the air. While they’re doing that, you can scream and laugh like you’re deranged. You can handle that, right?”
“I guess,” Kylie said, but she looked skeptical.
She didn’t have time to back out because Radha opened the door to the main part of the house, and we were inside, taking our places, and getting ready to howl at the moon.
Inciting terror was a whole lot of fun. I screamed and screamed, so much that I lost my voice completely by the end of the night. I spotted my mom, running through the cemetery set on her broom, screeching and cackling with abandon. She stuck close to Sandy at first, but then went off on her own. There was no denying it—Mom was having fun.
I watched Kylie command the hounds. Oversized and quite realistic, they sent some people running before even making it inside the haunted house. She had them snapping fiercely at the air, throwing their mechanized heads back, and howling at the full moon hanging ominously above our heads. By the end of the night, Kylie threw her head back, too, and let loose.
It was the best Halloween we’d had since she was a toddler.
CHAPTER 20
“We need to make a decision regarding Kylie’s treatment,” Dr. Indigo said. She sat behind her desk, regarding Matt, Kylie, and me with large, kohl-rimmed eyes. She wore a silvery tunic over purple paisley leggings. A large onyx pendant hung trapped between her boobs.
“I think the answer’s apparent,” Matt said, his tone abrupt. I had the feeling he was missing something to make this meeting. He’d driven himself, declining my offer of a carpool. Possibly a date with Cassie?
“I think we should continue,” I said. “As long as it’s safe. And it is, right?”
Dr. Indigo pursed her lips. “There is always risk. Kylie could have another reaction—that’s true.”
Matt snorted. “Well, then, why in the world would we risk it?”
“Because it could transform her life,” Dr. Indigo responded calmly. “That hasn’t changed simply because she had a reaction.”
“Would you use the same protocol?” I asked, somewhat impressed with myself for knowing the lingo.
“I would start her again, this time with a lower dosage,” Dr. Indigo said. “The desensitization process would take longer, but we wouldn’t have to abandon it. These kinds of adjustments are not uncommon.”
I understood Matt’s reservations, but giving up was . . . giving up. When in doubt I always went with action, because inaction felt too much like death. I wanted Kylie to be able to really live her life in total freedom. And I trusted Dr. Indigo. I didn’t fail to see that there were three people in this decision-making circle, so I put my arm around my daughter and said, “What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” she said, glancing at Matt. “Can we think about it?”
“Of course we can,” Matt said.
Dr. Indigo nodded, smart enough to not push.
“I found out something,” I said. “About my family’s health history.”
“Really?” Matt said. His tone changed, from anger to something more gentle. “From that DNA thing?”
“I found a relative through the DNA test. My mother . . .” I said, surprised by my upsurge of emotion. “My biological mother had rheumatoid arthritis. Her mother did too. I know it’s not always a disease that gets passed down in families, but it helps to know that, right?”
“Knowledge always helps,” Dr. Indigo said. She smiled wryly. “I know some people think otherwise.”
“Am I going to get that disease?” Kylie asked.
“None of us know the future,” Dr. Indigo said. “You might or you might not. But now you have something to look out for as you get older. Early treatment equals better outcomes. And there are effective treatments, and they’ll continue to get better.”
Kylie looked at the doctor straight on. “Are you making me better?”
“I’m helping you make yourself better.”
That comment hung so heavy it almost knocked us off our chairs. How could Matt say no to that?
“I scheduled you for a full appointment,” Dr. Indigo said, after our silence became uncomfortable, “so if you’re all willing to stay, I’d like to do a group-guided meditation.”
I could feel Matt’s desire to leave. The tips of his shoes pointed to the side, toward the door. His brain had likely already made a run for it, heading to the freedom of the street, where he didn’t have to think about his little girl swelling up and dying.
“We can stay,” Kylie said. “Right, Mom and Dad?”
“Right,” I said. “As long as we’re done by five. I have to be somewhere at seven.”
Matt flashed me a look. “I think we’re going to the same place.”
“So you can stay until five too,” I said, my smile brittle.
“That would be . . . fine,” Matt said. He took out his phone. “I just have to send a quick text.”
While Matt texted, Kylie and I helped Dr. Indigo light candles and move chairs. We knew the metaphysical drill.
She had us sit cross-legged, knee to knee, in a tight circle.
“Are we going to try to calm the dog?” Kylie whispered.
“Close,” Dr. Indigo said. “We’re going to learn to visualize worry.”
“I have no problem with seeing all there is to worry about,” Matt said.
Dr. Indigo laughed. “Once we can imagine our worries as tangible entities, we can better manage them. Thinking of wo
rry as something you can hold in your hands means thinking of it as something you can toss out the window or shove in a trash can.”
“Can’t worry be beneficial?” Matt asked. He didn’t seem hostile, only curious. I had to admit, I thought the same thing. Doesn’t worry sometimes mean you’re thinking about the bad things that could happen so you can prepare yourself if any of them do?
“The question is, how much energy does worrying require?” Dr. Indigo said. “Your body requires energy for every process, from digesting food to blinking to fighting illness. Couldn’t energy spent worrying be used for other, more productive, pursuits?”
Matt fidgeted. “I guess.”
“Humor me,” Dr. Indigo said. “Give this exercise a try. Now, all of you—close your eyes.”
Matt didn’t say anything, but he settled into stillness. We were going to do this.
“Matt, Kylie and Ally have already voiced fears in this office, but you have not, so we’ll start with you. Tell us about one of your worries.”
Silence. At first, I thought he was being resistant again, but then I thought back to the Matt I knew—his main worry was Kylie’s health, but he didn’t want Kylie to know that fear for her well-being occupied many of his daily thoughts. I’d felt the same way the last time I was here.
“I’m worried . . . ,” he began. “I’m . . .”
“Go on,” Dr. Indigo encouraged.
“I’m worried for Kylie. I don’t like to put her at risk. I want my daughter to live a happy, healthy life, but I don’t want to threaten her future by trying something that might turn out to hurt her.”
I opened my mouth to say something and closed it just as quickly. It wasn’t the time. Matt was allowed to have his fear. I resisted my impulse to pick it apart and analyze it. To my surprise, my hand found his knee and patted it.
“What does this worry look like?” Dr. Indigo asked.
“What do you mean?” Matt said. “Look like?”
“Describe it,” she said. “What color is the fear? Does it have a texture, or is it smooth and round? Does it have a face?”
“I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous,” Matt said. “Worry is an emotion. I can’t describe that.”
“Try,” Dr. Indigo said.
“Fine,” Matt said, shocking the heck out of me by responding to her authoritative manner. “It’s red. Bright red.”
“And?”
“Well . . . it’s rough and bumpy, like it’s covered in gravel.” He paused for a moment. “It’s got sharp spots. You’d have to be careful when you touched it.”
He stopped, and so did Dr. Indigo. She knew the oldest mom trick in the book—stop talking and wait.
“It has slashes through it,” Matt continued, “like someone attacked it with a knife. The slashes ooze something blackish. I . . . that’s it, I think.”
“That’s good,” Dr. Indigo encouraged. “Okay, visualize yourself picking it up gently, so it doesn’t hurt you. Walk around for a bit, carrying it. Feel its weight, watch the slime ooze from it, this worry about Kylie’s future. Where are you walking with it?”
“On a beach,” Matt said. “I don’t know why. I’m just there. The sand is hot. The sun . . . it’s very bright.”
“And the sky is very blue,” Dr. Indigo said, her voice more hushed. “There aren’t any people on the beach, but there’s a pier. Can you see it?”
“I can,” Matt said. “It’s painted white, and it’s long, reaching far into the ocean.”
“I want you to walk down it. Slowly. You don’t want to drop this ball of worry yet. Keep your strides even and your pace steady. Got it?”
“Yes. I’m doing it. I’m walking. The ocean is all around me.”
“The waves are gently lapping at the pier. The sound is soothing and peaceful. Are you to the end of the pier yet?”
“Yes. The water is all around me. The beach seems far away.”
“And you’re still holding this worry. This bright-red ball, painful to touch, releasing black negative energy. This ball that only provides misery and terror. What do you want to do with it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t? Are you sure?”
“I want to get rid of it. I don’t want it anymore. I want to toss it into the ocean.”
“So do it,” Dr. Indigo said forcefully. “Use all your might. The ocean is big and powerful and can swallow up a worry, no problem. Go ahead. Toss it.”
“It’s heavy,” Matt said. “I don’t know how far it’s going to go.”
“Even if it just goes a few feet, it will sink. Let it go, Matt. Give it to the ocean.”
“I want to, but—”
“But what?”
“What if I need it?” His voice broke.
“It causes pain and misery. Why would you need it? Toss it, Matt. Let it go.”
Matt let out a cry, a heartbreaking, nerve-rattling shriek. My eyes flew open. His were screwed shut, his face a mask of anguish.
“I did it,” he said, heaving a sob. “I threw it, and the ocean swallowed it up. It’s gone. It’s gone. I can’t even see it.”
Dr. Indigo put a hand on his shoulder. “Good.”
Tears streamed from Matt’s eyes. I reached for him again. “Are you okay?”
He stood abruptly. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
“Dad?” Kylie sounded fearful. “I can go with you.”
“No, baby. I’ll see you later. I just need to be alone for a while.”
He left, and Dr. Indigo turned the lights on. She extinguished the candles methodically.
“Was he hypnotized?” I asked. “Is he really okay?”
“I think he’s more than okay,” Dr. Indigo said. “He just has to get used to being that way.”
“Could I be that way?” I asked. “More than okay?”
Dr. Indigo smiled at me, a rare, genuine, completely warm smile. “You already are. You’ve been coming to me all this time and you don’t realize that? Come on, Ally.”
“What about me?” Kylie said. “Am I okay too?”
Dr. Indigo turned this new and almost disturbingly intense high-wattage smile toward my daughter. “Of course you are.”
Kylie smiled back. “Then why are we here?”
“Because I don’t want anything to mess with your okayness, smart girl.”
“So that’s why you’re teaching me to calm the dog,” Kylie said. “I get it.”
“I think you do.”
Kylie took a breath and stood up. “I decided I want to try again.”
Dr. Indigo glanced at me.
“I’ll talk to Matt,” I said, wondering if what had just transpired in this office had any effect on his opinion. “It’s got to be a family decision.”
CHAPTER 21
Kylie—Your Past Is a Present!
Report 30: Based on your DNA makeup, you are five times more likely to be tone deaf! Your ancestors weren’t exactly members of the choir—think twice before trying out for American Idol!
We pulled into the VFW parking lot at 7:10 p.m. and sprinted for the door. Cassie had probably gotten there at six, with fancy food and craft cocktails worthy of a spread in Gourmet magazine. I brought nothing but a slightly sweaty body and a ten-year-old who should have been home doing her homework.
“Ally, we were waiting for you!” Bree Nguyen shouted, ruining my shot at slipping in unnoticed and pretending I’d been there for hours. She shoved a tray of food under my nose. “You’ve got to try some of these Manchego cheese bites Cassie made. They’ve got serrano ham inside and honey on the outside. Isn’t that brilliant?”
I stuffed one in my mouth and nearly groaned with pleasure. I had to admit, they were amazing.
“Hey, Ally.” Sawyer had somehow snuck up next to me. “How’s it hanging?”
Seriously? Who said that? “I’m almost forty,” I said through a mouthful of expensive Spanish cheese. “Everything’s hanging.”
“Sorry,” he said, flushing. “I should spend my tim
e around animals, not people. I don’t always know how to act.”
“I don’t either,” I said. “So don’t worry about it.”
“Want a cocktail?” he asked. “I sure do.” He crouched down to Kylie’s height. “There’s organic apple cider, if you want some. I pressed it myself.”
Kylie was too young to barf at that statement. “Cool,” she said. “As long as it wasn’t done on a press that came into contact with nuts, I’m good with it.”
“Nope,” he said. “No nuts. Promise. I’ll be right back.”
“We’re going to ask the candidates to say a little something in five,” Bree said, excited. “Sorry we didn’t give advance warning, but you can speak off the cuff, right?”
“Right!” I said, a little too forcefully. Bree flinched.
“Okay, then,” she said. “I’m going to go see if Cassie needs anything.”
She walked off in the direction of Cassie, who wore a well-cut suit in Hillary Clinton blue.
I was wearing an army-green sweater with jeans. It was a nice sweater, and the jeans were skinny-style and flattering, but still.
Don’t let it bother you, I told myself. You’re fine.
Matt stood on one side of her, his features blank. On the other side, Riker lounged on his belly, Cassie’s son sprawled next to him. I didn’t let Riker’s relaxed state fool me—he could strike at any time. The canine version of a rattlesnake.
The internal debate in my head—Should I go say hi? Leave Matt alone?—raged until it was too late to do anything at all. Sawyer had come back, carrying a plastic cup full of cider for Kylie and a bright pinkish-red cocktail for me.
I eyed it suspiciously. “What is this?”
“Hibiscus with organic, American distilled bourbon.”
I took the glass and sniffed it. “It smells good.”
Sawyer grinned. “I know something that will make it even better.” He held his closed fist over my drink. “Count to three, Kylie.”
She did. When she got to three, he opened his hand, and something dropped into my drink. It sunk to the bottom and began to uncurl.
“It’s a dried hibiscus flower,” he said. “You can eat it, if you want.”
The Other Family Page 22