Chapter 11

"She always speaks in a monotone, Doctor!"

My father had dragged me to family therapy. This was ridiculous and the couch smelled funny. It smelled like rotting onions. Chief Charlie was agitated. I was the only one who could tell. His porn, Burt Reynolds inspired mustache had a slight twitch on the right side. It was slightly mesmerizing.

"Well they say the apple not falling from tree, Pops." I placed my feet on the therapist's coffee table. She looked like she wanted to stab me in my eye with her pen. It was funny. "It's probably something in the Swan DNA. Diabetes, sarcasm, a love of watching Dr. Who and obsession with cheap beer that can be bought in the grocery store."

"Do you see what I have deal with, Dr. Denali?"

I sighed. "She's not a doctor, Chief Charlie."

This lady, whose spawn was the demented Tanya, was in no way a doctor. The woman did get some sick glee when my father accidentally keeps calling her by the title. Irina Denali, was bad as her daughter, with too much make up and a penchant for glittery jewelry that weighed down her arms. Do you know what they say about psychologists? They need therapy more than their patients. Maybe, I just made that up. The fact was old Irina was getting on my last nerve.

The woman scowled at me. "Please get your feet off my table, Miss Swan. Let's discuss your mother."

"Renee sends boxes of oranges at Christmas. Those things are damned tasty. Right, Chief Charlie?"

"Could you please try to call me 'dad'?" His mustache twitched.

"Nah."

Old Irina clutched her notebook. "I want you to discuss your feeling toward your mother."

"Robots don't have feelings, lady." I leaned in closer. "I should warn you. We are planning on taking over the earth. All your shiny baubles are distracting and scare us. Beware of our wrath."

"Bella!" Dear old dad's mustache was going into overdrive.

Then inspiration struck.

"I have a boyfriend."

Old Irina looked excited. "Finally we have something to work with."

"His name is Edward Cullen."

"That's Tanya's boyfriend!" The woman screeched.

"No way, fake Doc. That wasn't what he was telling me last night." I wiggled my eyebrows.

Chief Charlie gave me a quizzical look. "Are you talking about that boy who keeps calling you?"

"Oh yes! My dealer!"

"He really is your dealer!" My father was going to have a coronary, but know one would know because he was so deadpan.

"My dealer in the ways of love." I batted my eyelashes.

Old Irina was losing it. "You're a pathological liar, brat!"

"Daddy, she's so mean," I cried and started to fake crying.

"Don't speak to my daughter that way!"

Therapy can be fun.