(A/N: I apologize for the delay. Writers block. I would like to thank Ph.Delicious for her private notes and review which proved endlessly valuable and Mezzaluna who prompted an idea to dig me out of a hole.)
Chapter 27
She ran her fingers through her hair, an uncharacteristic sign of her frustration.
"Dr. Case can see you now Sara." Deb, the kindly older woman who served as a receptionist was relieved to have the pacing girl out of the waiting room.
The doctor was at her desk and prompted Sara to have a seat without looking up. The girl's energy was palpable, her desire to get on with her explosion clear, but Dr. Case was an immovable force. She deliberately spent a few extra moments on her notes from the last patient.
When she finally stood she raised her eyebrows at Sara, "An emergency appointment? Dare I ask what brought this on?"
"My mother is impossible. She lives in a fantasy world."
"Everyone lives in their own version of reality Sara. When did you speak to your mother?"
"I went to see her yesterday, after my shift."
"With an agenda?"
"I don't know. That's not the point. I went and I tried to get her to talk about my dad, about how things got as bad as they did, but she just…"
Dr. Case cut her off, "I'd like to hear how you came to visit your mother yesterday Sara. Please. From the beginning."
Normally allowed to follow her own tangent, given her head to plow through whatever she most wanted to say, this redirect completely derailed her.
"I don't know. We had finished an especially long shift and I"
"Why was it long?"
Tucking her legs under her Sara dipped her chin, "There was a bus accident in California involving people from CSI that were at a seminar there."
"So you worked to cover the shift of the people in California?"
"Sort of. The people at the seminar were covered already, but some of them were seriously hurt, a few were killed. Some of our people at home wanted to go to San Diego, lend support, others were too distraught to work. We covered for them."
"You found it less upsetting to stay at work?"
"I found it necessary. The bad guys don't stop in Vegas just because we've taken a hit."
"Did your entire shift work overtime?"
"Mostly. Catherine left to be with Lindsey for awhile, the rest of us worked over. Grissom and Nick were still there when I left."
"Why did you leave while the others continued?"
"Grissom is supervisor, he was plugging all the holes he could. Nick was waiting on some prints and then heading out. Why?"
"It just seems unlike you. What did you do when you left work?"
"Got in my car and drove. I intended to go home and sleep, but my car seemed to just get on the highway. I didn't think it through at all, just ended up at my mom's."
"Was she surprised to see you?"
"She didn't say. I visit her fairly often, it's only a little over two hours from here."
"When you got to the house, did you ask yourself what you were doing there?"
"No. I just went in, she was baking, like she always is, since I was a kid."
"She baked when you were small?"
"When she came home from the hospital and we lived together."
Dr. Case tipped her head. "Sara? When did that happen? When did you live with your mom again?"
"I don't know, when she came home. We used to bake together all the time until I went to college."
The doctor looked down, composing her thoughts. Finally she decided to let whatever she had been thinking pass. "Tell me what prompted you to ask your mother about your father."
"She told me I should get married, that I should be safe, settle down and get married. I couldn't believe she was so out of touch. Marriage was anything but safe for her."
"Is this the first time she's talked about you getting married?"
Sara frowned. "No, she mentions it here and there. Asks when I'm going to give her grandbabies."
"Have you asked about your father when she's brought up your future?"
"No. We never talk about him."
"But this time you wanted to. Why?"
"I'm ready."
"Ready to?"
"See how all of it twisted me, face it, move on from it."
"How does making your mother revisit the past show you your future?"
"I don't know. I think I just wanted her to acknowledge that he existed. I was ready to talk about what it's done to us, to start healing with her."
"Did you take a moment to gauge her readiness?"
"No." Sara's barely audible response turned her inward. "I thought I was making so much progress."
"You are, in some respects, but the first thing you have to realize is that your healing is yours. It happens in your own time, and you must respect that you can't put anyone else's healing on your timeline. For that matter, you can't expect your mother's healing to look like yours. Perhaps it is enough for her to be able to function in the world without exploring all of her past."
"I don't get that. How can she move forward from it if she doesn't deal with it?"
"Maybe she has dealt with it, that doesn't mean she has to relive it every day. She may have released her guilt and pushed forward. Her path has nothing to do with yours Sara."
"It's hard. I don't know how to have a relationship with her if I'm going to be real about my dad and what happened and she's going to pretend nothing happened. She's rewriting history."
"So are you."
Anger flashed across Sara's face, "You think I'm lying?"
"How old were you when your mother killed your father Sara?"
"I don't remember."
"Yes, you do."
"Fourteen maybe?"
"And yet when you tell the story you tell it as though you were much younger. To hear your story without the dates would suggest you were only around 8 when this happened. Being younger gives you absolution."
"I felt, I mean, I remember it as though I were…"
"In your mind you've made yourself younger, because a girl of 14 should have been able to do something to stop what was happening right?"
"I couldn't have. There was nothing I could do." Sara was crying now, the memories of that night coming back again, this time differently. This time she felt herself, not a small voiceless child but an insolent and angry teen, screaming at her father, praying that her mother would stand up to him until finally she did.
The teen Sara had felt satisfaction at watching her mother silence her father.
The crying came from the deepest pit of her stomach. The guilt of knowing she had wanted what had happened, that she was pleased that her mother had risen up against her father tore away at her and escaped through screams that made her throat ache.
This time, for the first time, Dr. Case sat next to her on the couch. She pulled Sara onto her and the girl collapsed into her lap, allowing all of her responsibility for her father's death and her mother's imprisonment spew forth.
When her weeping slowed to haggard gulps for air the doctor stroked her hair, keeping her safe, allowing her to be the child for a few moments longer.
"Sara? How old were you when your mother was released from the hospital?"
"Eighteen? Maybe nineteen why?" Hiccups, gasping breaths, tear stained face.
"Did you bake with your mother when you were young?"
"Never."
"You told me that you did. You said that when you were a young girl, when she came home the two of you baked together."
Sara sat upright. "I remember it. I remember Valentines Day and not wanting those paper cards because they were for kids, and my aunt saying that we'd make…it was my Aunt Alice."
Shock. "I've always believed it was my mother, but it was my Aunt Alice that I baked with. When mom got out I was already away at college. She'd bake with my aunt, I'd sometimes help when I came home on vacations but, never as a child. Not with my mother."
"So you see, reality is what your mind will allow it to be. Why is it so important for your mother to talk about your father?"
Looking as though she had been beaten, her eyes swollen and red, her lips chewed and bruised Sara answered, "I want to know if she wanted him dead as much as I did."
"So that you wouldn't be at fault?" Dr. Case smiled as Sara's eyes showed the connections she was making. All of her life she had tried to run from being responsible for her emotions in an effort to absolve herself of wishing for her fathers death.