Ellie was in her room, reading through her homework, when he arrived. She hadn't been allowed a pencil without supervision, so there was a limit to what she could do--and therefore, she let herself be easily distracted. This time, though, she didn't look up until she heard his voice.
"El!"
Her eyes lit up. "Dad? How...? I thought were peacekeeping until at least March!" She hopped up and wrapped her arms around him--an unusual display of affection for her, even with her dad.
"Woah," he said, laughing slightly. "Calm down. Your doctor--Dr. Cavanaugh?--she had me tracked down. Worked after-hours on your behalf to make sure I could take a leave. She told me why you were in here, but of course couldn't say anything more. She said that there are a few things you might want to get off your chest though. And also offered us some family counselling sessions. He paused. "So, did you want to tell me anything? She said something has been going on for awhile."
Ellie looked up at him and then down again. He guided her to the edge of the bed and then knelt down until his eyes were level with hers. She chewed furiously on her lip, refusing to meet his eyes. She had no idea where to begin.
"Eleanor, sweetheart. Please."
"Dad..." Ellie said desperately. He didn't avert his gaze, nor did she make eye contact. "I--" She leaned forward and put her head in her hands, and he gave her a gentle hug. "I cut myself," she said finally. "I'm sorry, Daddy." She buried her head in his shoulder, but he pulled away and tipped her face toward him, concern in his eyes.
"How long as this been going on?" he asked quietly.
"Dad--"
"How long, Ellie?"
She swallowed hard. "A year. A bit more. I've been seeing a counsellor for a lot of that. And it hasn't been constant. I just--I couldn't tell you. I couldn't make you worry. It's bad enough over there."
"That should be up to me to decide. I'm an adult. I'm supposed to deal with these things. You're not." He sighed. "Your mother's been drinking, hasn't she?"
"You can't blame Mom because I did something stupid," Ellie said.
"I'm not blaming her Ellie. I'm not blaming you either. I just need to know what's going on. I need to know everything that's going on." Dr. Cavanaugh entered the room and sat down. Ellie noticed her, and decided it was easier to tell the story once and get it over with.
"I moved out," Ellie said. "Earlier this year. She set the place on fire. It wasn't bad, just the kitchen, but I moved in with Sean, and she went to rehab. I was scared I was going to start cutting again if I stayed home. Then there was the shooting, and Sean needed to go to Wasaga to be with his parents. It was just too hard for him here. And I didn't know what to do. I mean, even before he left, things were bad. But I couldn't pay the rent or for Bueller's stuff, so I moved back home. I knew Mom would probably need me anyway, even if rehab did go well. And then she hit me--and I don't blame her for it--but I didn't know what to do. So I went to Sean's, found an excuse, and wound up in here."
Mr. Nash reached forward and smoothed Ellie's hair away from her face. "It'll be okay," he said. "We'll get this thing figured out." It was the first time she dared let herself believe it might be true. Coming from him, it suddenly seemed possible again. She nodded, and he smiled at her. "That's my girl," he said, tugging on her hair as was their custom. "But I should let you talk to the doctor, and I want to go see your mother. She doesn't even know I'm back in town yet." Ellie nodded again. "I'll be back later, okay?" He left the room and Ellie looked longingly after him for a moment, then glanced at the doctor and immediately changed her expression to a much more guarded one.
Dr. Cavanaugh thought for a moment before carefully wording her question. "Are you feeling okay after getting that off your chest?"
Ellie shrugged. "I didn't want to make him worry," she said. "He deals with enough as it is. Part of me is glad I don't have to hide it from him, but I let him down. I mean, I should have been able to deal better. He shouldn't have had to worry about this at all."
"Isn't it his right?" the doctor asked quietly. "He loves you. And even if he does worry, it's because he cares. Parents in general want the opportunity to worry. And when you don't tell them what's going on, they imagine things to be a million times worse than they are, even. You shouldn't have to do this alone. Your Dad's an adult. He'll be okay if he's a bit anxious. He'll deal with it, and he'll feel better for knowing that you were able to talk to him." Ellie chewed furiously on her knuckle. "What is it?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked gently. "Now you're the one worrying."
"Just thinking," Ellie said. "I guess it never really occurred me. I don't know if I can believe it, not yet anyway, but it's something." She resumed chewing on her knuckle for a moment.
"I painted my nails, you know. Before I did it. And fixed my makeup. Didn't want to die looking uglier than I had to. Besides I thought the nail polish might mask the stench if, you know, my bladder went." Dr. Cavanaugh gave her an incredulous look. "What?" Ellie said. "Surprised I thought about it? It's been many a time that the thought dissuaded me. But 'We shall overcome...'" She half-sang the last few words.
"You have a sense of humour," Dr. Cavanaugh said. "Even through all of this. That's a big thing, you know. If you can laugh, you have a fighting chance. Hold onto that." Ellie had no idea how to respond, so she remained quiet. "Your mom," Dr. Cavanaugh said. "You have trouble talking about her, I know that. But you did when your dad was here, and you didn't ask me to leave or anything like that. Can you tell me a little more?"
"She was always really good to me," Ellie said, somewhat reluctantly. "She'd throw parties for me when I was young, and play with me, and then Dad started being deployed more frequently, and she started drinking a lot. I guess maybe poor coping skills or whatever you want to call it run in the family. When Dad's around, she's generally okay. He didn't even know about it for awhile until I accidentally blabbed it out."
"You said she hit you, and we saw some bruises on your body when we brought you in here. Had she done that before? I need to know what we should do about that particular aspect of your situation."
Ellie clamped her mouth shut, then with a cold look at the doctor, spoke tersely. "I didn't get anything I didn't deserve. And I don't want to talk about it anymore, please. I've already said enough for now."
The doctor nodded. "Fair enough," she said. "But I am still curious as to what sparked last night's actions." She tilted her head, wearing a sympathetic smile.
"It was stupid and impulsive," Ellie said. "Nothing to discuss, really."
"Impulsive?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked cautiously. "I don't mean to doubt you, Ellie, but if you got your blade the way you said you did, that required at least a little planning."
Ellie sighed. "The whole idea was impulsive, okay? Maybe actually doing it wasn't. I mean, once I had the blade, that was it. Game over. I hate talking about my life. It's no one's business. And I figured that if I was going to be trapped in here, the least I could do was deal with it the way I wanted to."
"Don't you think you're worth more than that? You wouldn't do it to anyone else, would you?" Ellie shook her head. "Then why yourself?"
"It works. Makes me happy. Besides, why shouldn't I? I don't see what's so fantastic about me that I don't deserve it."
Dr. Cavanaugh thought about it for a minute. "Do you trust me?" she asked. "Actually, don't answer that. Do you trust your dad?" Ellie immediately nodded. "Then trust him when he says you're worth loving. He's a rational man, and you seem to respect him about everything else. Just think about it, okay?" Ellie made no promises, but there was a vague pensive look in her eyes. "I have to get to some of my other patients, Ellie. But there will be nurses checking in on you as usual, and if you need anything, just ask. I've tracked down a pack of cards for you--they're in your dresser drawer--and the TV's right there. And of course, you could always journal--crayons only, though, I'm sorry to tell you. Every kept a journal?"
Ellie nodded. "Sauve--Ms. Sauve made me keep one for awhile. Wanted me to write down my feelings when I cut. Didn't exactly work out well. Knowing she would read it kind of made me censor myself."
"Well, you might want it try it, just for yourself sometime," Dr. Cavanaugh said, with a parting wave. "Or bad poetry. That's always a hit." She chuckled, then left Ellie alone.
Ellie didn't play cards, or even flip to an infomercial. For once, she let herself think, and feel, and nothing more--but right then, that was everything.