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"Family therapy?" Owen asks. "Don't we already go to enough therapy?" he grumbles as he and Amelia settle into bed that night. Amelia chuckles, but he sees the insecurity in her eyes, the waver to her not-so-lighthearted laugh. "What I'd do?"
"Nothing," Amelia brushes him off before shutting off the light on her nightstand.
"Amelia," he drags her name out and she knows he means business. He's worried and upset. He doesn't want her to keep secrets from him. To hide away pieces of herself, little cutouts until there is nothing left of who she is and who he loves.
She sighs, burying her face into his chest. "It's just," she takes another deep breath, trying to find the willpower to say this. She doesn't want to know what will happen if he says yes. "Do you not like therapy? Do you not want to go?"
He tilts his head, confused at her question. He shrugs and she feels the movement from her place on his chest. "I wouldn't exactly say I like it but that doesn't mean I don't see the value in it." He presses a light kiss to her hair. "I don't want to stop going." Then, worried, he asks, "Do you?" The therapy has been doing wonders for their relationship and he doesn't want them to regress.
"No, no," Amelia is quick to answer. "I just," she thinks over her words carefully, "I know it's not really your thing-"
"My thing?"
"The talking." She chances a glance at his eyes. They're more confused than angry. "I know you say that my talking makes you feel like you're on a job interview or something." She laughs to cover the tension. It's been a while since they've had a late night conversation.
"Oh," his voice is rough, scratchy. "I think we should go. To therapy I mean. It's good for us." He kisses her forehead and turns over, rolling onto his side. She wishes he would have said more, would have assuaged more of her fears, but the forefront of her mind becomes occupied by his simple action instead. He always sleeps curled around her or with her on his chest. He doesn't necessarily like her spooning him-she found that out about two years back. She doesn't like the break from their pattern of intimacy and, yet, can't bring herself to confront him about it. So, instead, she holds her breath to keep the tears at bay, the feeling of loss taking over once more, and turns to her other side. She curls her arms around herself and hugs tightly. It will be a restless night.
Evelyn is the first to wake the next morning, and she cooks up a hearty breakfast of cheese and vegetable scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast. Just as she's turning on the coffee machine, sure that the rest of the house will be up at any minute, Amelia walks into the kitchen. "Good morning," she says through a yawn.
"I'm surprised you're up this early on your day off," Evelyn chuckles. "I was under the impression you were not a morning person."
Amelia shrugs. "Depends on the day. My brain can't seem to pick one or the other." She sits at the island, relaxing further at the smell of her favorite coffee brewing. "I could get used to this, though."
"What?"
"Having someone to make me breakfast and coffee." She shoots her mother a smirk. "I like being catered to."
Evelyn laughs, a sweet and joyous sound. "Then I might just have to set up camp here forever," she says, clearly joking.
Amelia agrees in jest. "Oh, yeah."
The two ladies smile at each other. Owen walks in, but chooses not to ask. After last time, he'd rather not know. "Smells great, Mom," he says instead.
She snaps her head toward his, surprised at his entrance. He really is light on his feet. "Oh, well you guys can help yourself. I'm sure Megan will be up shortly."
"Up now," Megan corrects as she strolls into the kitchen. "And starving."
"Then get a plate," Evelyn commands. Then, softer, "I'm glad your appetite is coming back."
Megan nods. "Me, too."
In turn, each family member grabs a plate and loads it up with warm, delicious goodness and takes a seat at the island. They eat in relative silence, consumed by their food, before starting their morning routines. Megan's family therapy appointment is at ten, and they don't want to be late.
Once they arrive at the hospital, Dr. Howell greets the group with a friendly smile. "Hello!" She moves aside so they can enter. "I've met all of you already, so why don't we get down to business." Amelia and Megan look at ease, fine with the suggestion as neither are much for small talk, while Carolyn and Owen look a bit uncomfortable. "Family therapy is often an important and integral part of recovery, especially in terms of patients with traumatic pasts. I just want to make it clear that this is a safe place. No one is being attacked here. We're all on the same team." The group nods. "Megan, would you like to start?"
"Sure," she fiddles her thumbs. "I want to say thank you, to all of you." All three go to interrupt and she raises a hand to shush them. "Thank you for being the best family I could ask for." She meets Dr. Howell's eyes and, with a silent nod of encouragement, continues her statement. "I just, sometimes I feel like you pity me." She shrugs, her gaze turning to her lap. "I get it. There is so much wrong with me and with what happened to me. But I need your support, not your sympathy." She turns to Amelia, grabbing her hand unexpectedly. "Thank you, Amelia, for giving me that. You always seem to understand."
Amelia is touched, and she squeezes Megan's hand a little tighter. "Any time. I know it sucks to have people feeling sorry for you." She pulls Megan into a one-armed hug.
Megan turns to her mother and brother. "It might take me some time. No, it's definitely going to take me time." She nods to affirm her statement. "But I'm getting there. I'm trying. And I miss the old us. I know we can't get it back but we can try to get close."
Evelyn nods. Owen agrees, saying, "I didn't know I was doing it. I'll know what to look for now." Megan sends him a grateful smile. "I miss the old us, too," he admits. He blushes a bit and turns his eyes toward his hands. The sentiment, however, is clear.
"Now," Dr. Howell begins. "Is there anything anyone else would like to bring to the table?" Owen raises his hand slightly to get the doctor's attention. "Yes, Owen?"
He turns to Megan, facing her directly. "Are the nightmares getting any better?"
Megan shudders at the reminder, but takes a deep breath and nods. "The medicine usually helps. Sometimes it traps me there, though." She shrugs, trying to stay calm and not get swept away in the memories.
"What about the herbal tea? Did it help?" Evelyn asks.
"Yes," Megan says, almost surprised. "I wasn't sure it would be able to do anything but it helped with the nightmares. And if I did have a nightmare I could wake up and get out of it."
"What tea?" Dr. Howell asks, making a note in her file.
Megan turns to her mom, unsure. "Valerian root," Evelyn says.
Owen furrows his eyebrows. He hasn't heard that since-he shakes his head, his temper flaring. "Did you call her?" He looks to Evelyn accusingly.
"Call who?" Amelia asks.
Evelyn lets out a breath. "Yes."
"Why would you do that? That was not your place." His voice is raising. She had no right to interfere like that.
"Call who?" Amelia asks, raising her voice to break through the awkward tension between mother and son.
Owen raises his eyebrows, silently telling his mother she better fess up. She sighs, turning to Amelia, a tender smile on her face. "Your mother, dear," she says.
And in an instant, Amelia's face blanches. "What?" Her voice is low and shaky. She doesn't like the vulnerability peaking through. It's uncomfortable and makes her skin crawl to feel such a thing. "Why would you do that?"
"Well, I remembered that she worked for the navy and thought she might have suggestions for nightmares," Evelyn says.
"Anything else?" Amelia meets her eyes as to know she's telling the truth.
Evelyn hesitates. There is more, but she doesn't want to say. However, Amelia's harsh gaze makes the words flow freely. "I wanted to talk to her about you."
Amelia shakes her head. "You had no right-"
"-and the wedding."
Her words catch in her throat. She can't deal. This is not what she expected when she came here today. Dr. Howell steps in. "Maybe we could take a short recess to gather our thoughts and then we'll talk more about this?"
Evelyn and Owen nod; however, Amelia shakes her head. "No, I'm fine," she lies. She doesn't want to handle this right now. Her mother caused her so much hurt; she can't think about it just yet. And then, on top of it, the sneakiness of her mother-in-law, the feeling of distrust, is blinding. "Let's keep going with the session."
As they walk out to their cars, Megan and Evelyn in one and Amelia and Owen in the other, he asks, "Did we really have to schedule two sessions in one day?"
Megan chuckles, patting her brother on the back, but Amelia's stomach churns. She wishes he didn't hate it so much. That he didn't hate working through their issues with her. "We can cancel." Her voice is quiet as she tries to keep it level.
"No," Owen says, shaking his head. Amelia's heart lifts up a little. "It's too late. We'll be charged for the session regardless. Might as well go." Amelia's heart sinks again. It's hard, she thinks, being the one who needs support in a relationship, being the one who's a mess.
"Well we're going to stop at a place for lunch and then we'll be home." Evelyn unlocks her car.
"Hope you guys have a good session," Megan adds, climbing into the passenger's seat.
The couple mumbles their thanks and heads off to their next appointment: couple's therapy. Amelia doesn't touch the radio system at all during the drive and, although it concerns him, Owen decides to let her have her space. If she doesn't want extra noise it means the noise in her head is already too loud. Besides, therapy always has them talking for the entire hour anyway. They could both use a break.
When they walk into the office, Carolyn greets them warmly. "How was this week?" she asks, taking a seat in her chair as Owen and Amelia take the couch.
"Really good," Owen answers, nodding to himself. "It seems like we're back. A lot more things are normal now."
"Like what?"
"Well, we're back at work."
"Nice," Carolyn smiles.
"We're getting along better. We're joking like we used to." He tries to explain the shift without using the word intimacy, still new to the idea and role of therapy. He's not ready to confess that much yet.
"That's wonderful to hear." Carolyn turns to Amelia. The smile on her face drops slightly at the other woman's features, the uncomfortableness radiating from her very being. "Do you not agree, Amelia?" she asks gently, her expression soft. Owen shifts his gaze to his wife, eyebrows furrowed.
"Amelia?" he asks, a silent question on his lips.
She twiddles her thumbs. 'No, you're right."
"Amelia," Carolyn begins, "I only ask two things of you here: to be honest and to try. This is a safe place. You can tell us what's bothering you." She folds her hands in her lap and waits for Amelia's whispered words.
"I do feel like it's better."
"But," Owen says.
"But I feel like, sometimes," she modifies, "we're just kidding ourselves." Owen tilts his head further, but Amelia isn't looking up from her lap. The knot in his stomach twists some more. "I mean, we're so different. How do we fit?"
"We're not so different."
"Yes, we are," she says, raising her voice. She's frustrated that he's not getting this, even though she know's she's not making much sense. She turns to meet his eyes, a stormy blue. "I'm a mess," she says, as if it is an all-encompassing point.
"You're not-"
"I am." She stands up, pacing a bit. There's too much nervous energy-it's consuming her from the inside out. "And you're, you're-"
"I'm what?" He's becoming frustrated. He doesn't know how to fix this and she won't say anything. He needs her to say something.
"God! Don't you get it, Owen?" Her palm goes to her forehead as she continues to pace back and forth. "You're perfect! You're always perfect. You're family's always perfect. I can't deal with it anymore."
"I told you I wasn't perfect-"
"One time! And every other time I see you, you are this vision. This perfect, unattainable man who I shouldn't fit with. Who, one day, will realize I'm not worth it or good enough." She shakes her head, averting her eyes to the ceiling to keep the tears at bay. "And your mom? She thinks she's perfect too. Fixing what's broken."
"I don't agree with what she did, but she does want the best for you-"
"See-perfect. Everything is with good intentions. How do you stay mad at that?" She releases a high-pitched laugh and follows it with a muffled scream of irritation. "But guess what? My family isn't perfect either. My mother chose not to come to our wedding. She chose not to walk me down the aisle. Damn it, you've gotta understand how messed up I am. I just can't with the Mr. Perfect anymore. All day, every day, I just can't do it."
"So what? You want some time apart? You want a divorce?" His voice is loud and uncontrolled. He can't stand the thought of losing her.
"I want to have said all I needed to say and that not have been your answer," she says, her voice dropping dramatically. It hurts, it hurts so much.
She grabs her purse and leaves the room, refusing to stop at Owen's calls. He pays the therapist quickly and sets out to find her, but by the time he gets to the front of the building he has no idea where she's gone.
A few blocks down, Amelia slows her hurried pace. She's still breathing heavily, so many emotions coursing through her tiny body, but can't catch her breath. She tries to take a few deep breaths and finally controls her voice enough to call a cab. Once she's secured a ride, she texts Owen that she's finding her own way back and not to worry-she's staying with Maggie and Meredith for the night. She knows he'll be mad, furious even, and yet she can't bring herself to change her mind. She'd stay in one of their guestrooms but Megan and Carolyn are already occupying both. She holds herself tightly as she waits for her ride, knowing that this is the point of no return. What they said could not be undone. The issue is, can they still move forward in spite of it?
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