It turned out that Alvey was serious about Zoey starting therapy before the he'd let her arrange the clothing drive, so Lisa, Jay, and Zoey spent the morning on the patio at the big house with a laptop looking at therapists in the area that Alvey's insurance covered.
"A woman, right?" Lisa asked.
Zoey shrugged noncommittally. Truthfully, she didn't really care. As long as it was someone nice, she would be fine.
"I think we should look for a woman," Lisa affirmed.
"I don't know," Jay countered. "I think it could be good to keep all our options open."
With forty-five minutes of searching, the trio had narrowed it down to four people that might be good matches. Sarah Lafayette, formerly from Louisiana; Dr. Novak, a clean-cut man who had a cross on the wall in his photo; a kind-looking man named Samuel Winchester; and finally, another woman, this one named Mary. Like my tortoise! Zoey wrote.
Jay smiled. "Yeah, she's still around," Jay told her.
Zoey positively beamed.
"The Samuel guy has the most stuff lined up with you," Jay said to Zoey when they were going through the open tabs again. He pointed at the sidebar instead of reading it out loud. Depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and post-traumatic stress disorder were all on his list.
"And he has nice hair," Lisa smiled.
"Oh yes," Jay joked, throwing his hands up, "how could I forget? The deciding factor – the hair."
Zoey backhanded his arm.
"Seriously, though, Zoey. We can try some of them out. It's not always a perfect fit right away," Lisa stated.
Zoey looked at the screen for a moment before reaching across Lisa and pulling the laptop towards herself. She clicked back and forth between the windows and then hit Command F. A search window popped up. In it, she typed, I want to hear their voices.
"Okay, let's see." Lisa started searching on Dr. Novak's website, the page Zoey left open. After a moment, she located a video. It loaded quickly, and soon Dr. Novak's low, scratchy voice was filling the deck.
"Hello," he said very seriously. "My name is Dr. James Novak, and with the help of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior, I would like to help you find peace with whatever may be troubling you. My counseling centers around helping you connect with God and the angels of heaven as you -"
Zoey quickly shut the video off. She opened the search function again and simply typed, Not him.
Jay chuckled and crossed himself. "Praise the fucking lord."
"Okay, here's Dr. Winchester. Or – well, I don't know if he's actually a doctor. But there's a video."
This one was different; instead of the man talking into the camera and making the viewer feel awkward, this one was shot from the side. There was a girl off to the side and out of view of the camera asking questions, and he responded looking at her instead of into the lens. It was almost like an interview instead of an advertisement.
"Okay, Sam, are you ready?" The shot flickered into focus.
"Yeah, I'm ready." The man moved his hair out of his face and sat back in his chair.
"Okay. Tell us your name and where you went to school."
"Uh, my name is Sam Winchester. I graduated from Stanford in 2006, and I got my masters at UCLA."
"Were you always from California?"
"No. I actually grew up in a small town in Kansas."
"Are you married?"
He smiled. "Yes. I have a beautiful wife named Jessica, and we have a big, fluffy golden retriever who likes to slobber and shed all over everything. But it's alright, though. We call him our son, so it's all good. He's forgiven," he laughed. "His name is Buddy."
Jay watched as Zoey smiled at the screen. The 'interview' went on for another thirty seconds or so, just a little get-to-know-you thing, but Jay already knew that Zoey had her heart set on this guy. "You like him?" he asked.
She nodded. He seems nice.
"Yeah, I think so too."
"I'll call and see if he's taking new patients," Lisa said. "I need to go grab my phone. I'll be right back."
When she left, Zoey got up from her chair and went over to Jay. She sat down in his lap and laid back against him.
He squeezed her and nuzzled his head into hers, making her silently giggle and push him away. He grabbed her fingers and kissed them. A minute passed in silence.
"You know, I had a girlfriend while you were gone," Jay mused.
She sat up and looked at him with wide eyes. She moved her hand at him in a circle as if to say, "More!"
"It didn't last too long; it wasn't meant to be. But she was - whoo! She was something else. Her name was Laura. Beautiful girl. Photographer, real smart… knew what the fuck she wanted." Jay looked away. "But she was fucking hung up on some fucking other guy."
Zoey pressed a kiss to his cheek and laid back on his chest. Y.
"No, no. It was heartbreaking, it really was, but the highs she gave me were so goddamn good, you know? I don't regret her. No, I don't fucking regret her at all." He glanced down at her. "Hey, did you date anybody? You little jailbait, you?"
She chuckled to herself and then shook her head. The runaway shelter wasn't exactly where she wanted to pick her future boyfriend. Not that she was super stable herself.
"Are you ever gonna?" he inquired.
She shrugged. If the right person came along, maybe. It's not like any guy in high school looked at her twice. And maybe if any of them did, it's not like they didn't know about her big brothers, who could each literally kill them in twelve different ways with their bare hands.
Now wasn't the time anyway.
Zoey went back to her chair and searched the shelter's website so he could show her a picture of Ellen and Jo.
"She looks nice," Jay said. "She's the lady in charge?"
Zoey nodded. N.
Lisa came through the glass door onto the patio. "His secretary said he's taking patients," she reported, her phone pressed to her shoulder. "He has an open spot today! Do you want to go?"
Zoey shrugged. She didn't really.
"I think it's a good idea," Lisa said encouragingly. "They can fit you in. I think it would be a mistake not to take advantage of that."
"Yeah," Jay said. "You should go today and start now."
"And if you don't think it's a good match, we can start sooner on finding someone else."
Zoey looked up at Jay. He looked sincerely nervous about whether or not she was going to say yes. She glanced back at Lisa and nodded.
"Okay, I'll tell her."
Jay grinned and gave her a light punch in the arm. "Atta girl," he praised.
She shyly smiled back. She wasn't too happy to be going, but she figured she could give this therapy thing a whirl. Besides, she'd eased Jay's worry, so at least there was that to feel good about.
The appointment was at 1 PM at an office about ten minutes from Alvey's house. Jay drove her in the pick-up, which still had no air conditioning, extra squeaky doors, and bumped too much, but to Zoey it felt like home. Throughout all the different schools and apartments when she was a kid, this truck had stayed constant. And to think, it had seemed so old then!
They pulled up to an office park, and Jay tugged the key out of the ignition. When Zoey didn't move to get out, Jay sat back in his seat.
"Are you having second thoughts?" he inquired.
She blinked and then silently slid out of the car. If this is what her family was demanding in order to let her stay, then this is what she would do. God knew she needed it anyway.
She and Jay walked into the office. There was a cheery girl sitting at the front desk with a shock of red hair. "You must be Zoey," she smiled. "You can have a seat. Sam will be out in a minute."
Zoey and Jay sat down on the chairs. Jay helped himself to the magazines strewn across the table, but Zoey just anxiously kicked her feet.
When the therapist came out of his office, he was much taller than Zoey had anticipated. He had long hair like in the video and he wore a big smile. "Hey, Zoey. Come on back."
Jay stood up and stepped in front of his little sister. "My name is Jay," he said, a little aggressively.
"Hi, Jay," the man said, undeterred. "Are you here with Zoey?"
"I am. She's my sister. I expect her to be treated with respect."
The therapist nodded. "Of course." He turned to Zoey. "If you're uncomfortable at any point or you just want to stop, you just come on back out here. Okay?"
Jay took a step back and nodded, satisfied with the man's reply. "I'll be right here," he promised.
She looked over her shoulder as she followed the man into his office, and Jay gave her an encouraging smile. She tried to smile back.
"So this is my office," the man said, holding the door open for her. "Take a seat wherever you like."
The room was a little larger than Zoey had been expecting, and after a few seconds, she realized it was actually the room from the video online. There was a couch, and there were two armchairs. She sat on the corner of the sofa, the same corner she sat on at home. She pulled her knees to her chest.
"So, Zoey."
She drew a Z in the air and followed it with two Es.
"Zee?" he repeated. "Is that what you want me to call you?"
She nodded.
"Okay. You can call me Sam." When she didn't say anything, it seemed to jog his memory. He got back out of the chair and said, "I almost forgot – I have something for you. I figured this would help."
He pulled out two iPads, pressed a few buttons on them, and then handed one to Zoey. It showed a blank white screen with a pencil icon and a rainbow of colors down the side. "Here, write something," he said.
She used her pointer finger to choose purple and then doodle her name on the screen.
"Okay, now click the green button."
Zoey glanced down at the corner of the screen and did as she was told. A split second later, Sam smiled at her and flipped his iPad around – it showed her name exactly as she'd written it.
"Whatever you write or draw gets sent to the other iPad when you press the button," he explained. "There's a typing function too. That's usually quicker."
Zoey nodded. It only took her a second or two to locate it. She cleared her screen.
"Can you tell me a little about what brings you here today?"
My dad said I had to come.
Sam nodded. "Why did he say that?"
He said I had to do therapy or I couldn't do the clothing drive.
"What clothing drive?"
I want to have a clothing drive for my shelter.
"A homeless shelter?"
A youth runaway shelter.
"Do you work there?"
She shook her head.
Sam paused. Then he asked, "Did you run away?"
Zoey nodded.
"Can you tell me about that?"
She swallowed and slowly typed, I guess Lisa told you I was raped last June. I was a mess and I was tired of hurting my family. And I needed to get away so I just left. I stole my dad's car and I drove for two hours. I left his number on the dashboard so they could find him and tell him where it was, and then I started hitchhiking. Eventually some lady brought me to the shelter.
Sam took a moment to read over what she sent. "What do you mean, you were a mess?"
I had… kind of a breakdown, I guess? After it happened. I didn't tell anyone for a month, but I got sick physically because I was so freaked out and upset. I had a fever for like a week and I couldn't stop sleeping because I just wanted it to go away. I didn't want to think about it.
"Were you with your family then?"
Yeah. I stayed at my dad's away from my brothers (they live in a different house than my dad) because I knew they'd freak out.
"Freak out how?"
Like… they'd try to figure out what was wrong with me. And I didn't want that.
"They're protective over you?" Sam inquired.
Yeah. I'm the littlest.
He nodded. A quiet fell over the room. Sam was going to ask another question, but then Zoey typed a question of her own.
If I tell you what happened – like what really happened – you can't tell anybody right?
"That's correct. So long as no one is in danger, I'm bound by law to keep what happens here to myself."
So if I tell you who did it, you can't tell?
"No, Zee, I can't tell."
She nodded, considering. He was quiet, watching her but letting her think. I haven't told anyone, she said, but I'm going to write it down, she said.
"Okay."
She spent multiple minutes typing. His name is Clint Walker. He and my older brother Nate (Jay who's outside – sorry about that by the way – is the oldest. Nate is the middle one) fought each other
She backspaced all of that and started over.
I'm the littlest, like I said. My oldest brother is Jay. He's the one outside. Nate is the middle one. Both my brothers and my dad do MMA. My dad is a coach, and both my brothers fight.
She scratched the apology – it hadn't been sincere. She'd missed having someone to look out for her while she was gone.
Nate had a fight with this guy named Clint Walker, and Nate won. The guy had looked at me weird before and he said something to me that I can't remember exactly but he made me nervous. Most of the other guys Nate fights are really nice outside the cage, but not him. He was creepy.
The day after Nate won the fight, these guys (not related to the fight) beat him up on the street. Nate's head got cut open and his knee was destroyed and he had to stay overnight in the hospital two days and it was really bad. I thought I was watching him die.
Zoey looked up from the screen at Sam, who was jotting something on his notepad. She tapped twice on the arm of the couch to get his attention.
"What's up?" he asked.
N
He smiled. "If you go a little slower maybe. Yeah. I know the alphabet."
She smiled back at his jest and spent a little longer on each letter. S
Sam chuckled. "You can say whatever you want."
She nodded at him and went back to typing.
The night he got home from
Delete.
He was on these really fucking heavy pain meds, and when he got home, he was still taking them. They made him fall asleep, and nothing could wake him up. Nothing. The night he got home was the night I got raped. Clint Walker, the guy from Nate's fight, came and he
Zoey stopped typing and swallowed. She looked away from the iPad.
Sam noticed. "Are you okay?"
She nodded and pressed the green button to send everything she'd written. Twenty seconds went by as Sam read, and by then, Zoey was feeling okay enough to keep typing.
He fucking raped me. It's still hard to say. It's a very ugly word.
She tapped the button again.
"It is," Sam sad. "And a very ugly action as well. I'm really sorry you had to go through that, and I'm sorry you felt so alone. But telling me was a huge step, and giving me a name after you've kept it to yourself for such a long time is a really big deal, Zee. That's awesome."
She gave him a tight smile.
"I know it doesn't feel good to talk about. But I promise it'll get easier. And it'll help you so much."
She looked away.
"One more thing before we switch to some easier stuff – that got really tough really fast, I know," he said, laughing a little. "Just one more thing and we'll talk about something else, I promise. I just want to know – how have you been coping?"
Zoey shifted.
"Some people journal or talk to their friends and family about what's going through their head. I know you haven't been talking. That silence is actually a way that you're coping."
An angry look flashed across her face.
He put his hands up. "No, no, I know it's involuntary, Zee, I know that. I know you want to talk. Not letting you is part of how your brain is coping with the stress from the trauma." He let that sink in for a moment before he asked again," So how are you coping? What helps you get through the day?"
Zoey thought wistfully of her sharp scissors.
"I work with a girl a little older than you who likes to paint when she gets upset. There's a boy your age who says going for a drive clears his head. So what do you do?"
Zoey shrugged.
"Pushing your feelings away isn't going to do you too much good," Sam warned her, though not unkindly. "I tell you what." He moved the iPad and his clipboard aside and pulled a little blue thing out of a basket on his bookshelf. He crossed the room to hand it to her. "Try this. Next time you're feeling upset – or if you just have some time or you're bored or you're happy, it doesn't matter – I want you to write something in here. It could be about what you're feeling or what happened the day before or what you ate for breakfast. Just write something down. Or draw, even. Get your feelings out of you and onto paper. Okay?"
She flipped the small notebook over in her hands. It was flimsy and thin, like something you'd get in a kids' meal at In-N-Out.
"If you don't like it or it doesn't help," Sam said, reading her face," we can try something else. But you've got to do something or else it's just going to keep building up until you can't take it anymore. And that's never fun."
She nodded in agreement.
"Okay, now. Let's talk about something else. Tell me about something you like."
Reading, she typed without thinking twice.
"Oh, I LOVE reading," Sam declared. "Are you reading a book right now?"
She eagerly nodded.
He sat back in his chair. "Which one? I want to hear all about it."
The rest of the session went easily, and Zoey was honestly a little sad when it came to an end.
"She did great work," Sam told Jay when he walked Zoey out to the waiting room.
"Good," Jay said, but his eyes were only on his sister. She gave him a confirming nod, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders when he got close enough. Satisfied, Jay looked up at the other man. "So how does this work, do I pay you now or?"
The girl at the reception desk piped up before Sam could respond. "No, we'll bill your insurance. You're all set!"
"Okay, thanks."
If he wasn't sure before, Jay knew Zoey was okay when she gave Sam a little wave before she left.
They climbed in the car, which creaked under their weight as usual.
"So, how was it?" Jay inquired.
Zoey nodded. "Good," she whispered. It was barely audible with the windows down.
Jay grinned widely and reached over to jiggle her knee. "I love you, kiddo."
She beamed.
