Disclaimer is back in Chapter One, but I'll reiterate that I don't own any character from the show "CSI."
This chapter is from Lilly's point of view. I'm trying to segue into what's going to happen after Lilly's death(which will happen) and go deeper into what she and the girls are feeling.
Please keep reading and reviewing; I appreciate it so much. I was at camp last week, and I'm trying to wrap up everything and planning for the sequel. Stick with me!
"And how do you feel about that?" Margaret's eyes had an expectant, intelligent look that made Lilly squirm.
"Personally," Lilly tried to joke, "I've always hated that question. Abhorred, even. I can't stand that question."
Margaret quirked an eyebrow. She was such an enigma, much harder to figure out than Meredith, the sturdy, organized social worker who had promised to stay to help with the girls after Lilly's death; or Sarah, the eager, listening, young nurse that was always up for talking; or Dr. Ringo, who thought that Lilly was an absolute nutcase for moving about a month before her death, and thought that it had zapped her strength in a sort of a sacrificial way and would make her die a few months earlier in order to get what she thought was a better deal for her children. Those people— Lilly could handle them. Margaret was much more difficult; she understood everything, but seemed to have little compassion. She was take-charge, and often pointed out the difficult things that Lilly would like to avoid, even though it might upset Lilly. Yet she always had an innate, thorough knowledge of the situation and Lilly trusted her because she was honest and usually insightful. "I'm a psychologist," she said dryly. "That question is sort of unavoidable here."
Lilly thought for a moment, "I don't know. It's so complicated. I want them to have a good relationship with Sara—but you've seen Sara, you've talked to her. She's incredibly fragile, too, and this whole thing feels like an imposition. I hope she'll sort of grow up here, but I don't know. And I want the girls to accept her, and like her, and stay close to her—but I'm so jealous. I'm supposed to be there. They're supposed to come to me and want to go to work with me, instead of babbling to me as I lie wheezing and coughing and throwing up at night."
"When was the last time you talked to the girls about the cancer?" Margaret asked.
Lilly shrugged. "Probably from before the time we moved. They're both being very helpful and attentive, but we avoid the subject, I guess. They watch out for me, I guess. They make dinner, try to stay out of my way, and sometimes clean the house. Grace likes to avoid the issue for her sake, she doesn't want to talk about it— and Jules and I used to argue because she always wanted to discuss deep, weighty, philosophical questions. I think she's avoiding talking about it because she thinks I don't want to. When I first got sick, Jules tried arguing, rebelling. She stopped about the time we moved."
"You should probably sit down and talk with them soon. Why don't you bring them, and Sara also, along to your next session? You don't have too much time left, Lilly—you don't want regrets."
It was true. Lilly was strong, and emotionally secure—she had made peace with God years ago, after her split with Thom. And she was aware. Lilly could feel the strength seeping from her body, see it leaving her bones, shedding and falling away. When she died—and she knew it would be soon—most of her body would be gone, leaving only her core, her spirit. She thought that in a way, cynical Dr. Ringo was right—she had accomplished her mission of making sure the girls were safe, and, now that that was taken care of, she could die at peace with herself. Her body was simply shutting down. One of her friend's father had died six days after his youngest child's wedding—he had just wanted to see his fourth daughter get married. He had lived for that and then had died. Lilly suspected that was the sort of thing going on with her. "Right." Lilly said, before trying to backtrack, "It's not like we don't talk about it. We talk about what we're doing about it. We talk about the future, we make plans."
Margaret said gently, "This is bound to be incredibly difficult for the girls. How do you think they're feeling about it?"
"They—They're scared. They don't want it to happen, and they're damned uncertain because everything is changing—a new school, but only for a year, and I'm not going to be around much longer and –" Lilly choked a little bit, "adjusting to Sara, and everything."
"Do you know this for certain, or are you relying on what you know about the
girls?" Margaret said, probing softly.
Lilly shifted angrily. "Listen—we can't discuss how they're feeling all the time. A conversation now and then—they still know they can come to me for anything. But we've got to keep on going normally. They're big girls and they're going into the world alone next year. And I know them, every inch of them, every facet of their souls. I know what they're thinking and what their motivations are. They think they're so transparent—I know them."
"Do you think that maybe they don't know you know them so well?" Margaret suggested. "They're teenagers. Good teenagers, smart teenagers, but they're just as self-absorbed and inward as any other teenager. They don't believe that you're able to pretty much sense their emotions, so they're just burying them more because they think you don't know." Margaret took a breath, so that they could both process what she was saying. "You just need to talk to them, Lilly. You've made your peace with God, you've made your peace with yourself—you've accepted it. Most of my patients have trouble accepting death. But you haven't made your peace with the girls. And they're possibly the most important people in this relationship now."
"They always were." Lilly whispered, sadly and quietly. She blew the hair out of her eyes, convincing herself that was what was blurring her vision so badly. "It's just frustrating." She stared up at the clock. "I've got to go home."
Margaret nodded. "It's Tuesday, so I'll see you…. Thursday. Bring the girls and Sara. When do they start school?"
"Monday," Lilly shook her head. "They're gonna be seniors."
"They're gonna be fine." Margaret said resolutely, leaving no room for argument.