Chapter Twenty-Five
The petite Italian lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "The nurse—she never said my mom died," she stated, looking straight ahead into the abyss. Rain drops had finally drizzled away and replacing them were flurries of snowflakes. She watched the flakes fall down against the cement, quickly disintegrating upon each landing. An involuntary breath of air released from her lungs. She hoped that this wasn't a preview of what sessions with the psychologist were going to be like. Just thinking about everything that happened was draining enough, she couldn't imagine how much more so it would be having to go through with the therapy she was recommended.
Alex allowed the arm that had been wrapped around the other's shoulder to momentarily pull her closer for a soothing embrace. She didn't say anything, only brushed a hand kindly through her brown waves while looking over her head back at the pond. The fish seemed to have hidden beneath rocks or something, she noted, as her eyes couldn't see them swimming afloat like they were earlier. She swallowed, feeling a rawness in her throat that she knew hadn't been there a few minutes ago. There was a noticeable pang in her chest, as well, that just recently started. Maybe it was the sympathy she felt for Lorna or maybe the agony she still suffered from losing her own mother. Either way, however, she kept her hold on the younger girl and exhaled deeply.
A breeze of wind whirled through, bringing with it a whiteout of snowflakes. The wind also caused a visible shiver out of Lorna and that only encouraged Alex to pull her closer, hoping the encirclement would bring a warmth to her. She felt a bond with the brunette—although that wasn't their first encounter, something about the two of them discussing openly of their mothers' passing's seemed to form a deeper connection between them, she imagined. Alex suddenly felt the urge to protect and help Lorna through all of the grief. Because she knew exactly how emotionally and physically draining it was to endure, and that wasn't anything a person should suffer with alone.
Surprised to be sitting in the waiting room of the psychologist's outpatient facility would be an accurate statement in Lorna's head. It had been two weeks since the first encounter they shared in the emergency room after the whole alleged 'suicide' attempt incident. There was a coolness that loomed in the air of the room—a sterile aura, really, and that mechanically caused a shudder out of Lorna. She easily noted that she was the only one in the waiting area, other than Franny who sat in the chair beside her as she mindlessly flipped through a magazine. Focusing her attention back on herself, she reached for the water bottle she brought along and sipped it without a thought.
The wait abruptly ended a short few moments after. Doctor Washington came through from a door on the other side of the check-in window, a bright smile on her face—one that was most-likely meant to be comforting, however, Lorna found it repulsive. There was nothing about needing to see a shrink that seemed to coincide with a smile, she interpreted. Regardless, she reluctantly pushed herself up from the chair and followed the superficially optimistic therapist back through the door she came from and down a narrow hallway until they entered into her office.
Dr. Washington motioned with a hand for Lorna to have a seat on the sofa parallel to her desk before situating herself in her fancy leather office chair. She situated herself so that one leg crossed over the other and then turned to peer over at her young client. The smile still molded to her face. "Would ya like more water before we start? I also have some teas if you'd like that better."
Lorna suppressed rolling her eyes; she knew the psychologist meant well, deep down. Yet, she wanted nothing more than to walk the hell back out of that goddamned building. A frustrated breath of air ejected from her windpipe. She didn't think there was a point to meeting with this shrink—surely, Lorna Morello didn't need a damn shrink. No, no she was just fine. Absolutely, perfectly, fine. No amount of water or tea would make any of this easier, she silently thought.
Lack of a response brought a slight frown to the psychologist's face. However, she reached into a drawer on her desk and grabbed a handful of tea packets anyway and laid them out on the faux wood surface. "I think I'll have a cup of tea, it's so cold outside today. Perfect tea weather with all the snow," she specified, picking out a packet of the teas she had out on the desk. Her eyes averted over to the teenager who sat slumped on the sofa, while the tea steeped, and studied her features as she so often did with each one of her patients.
"Would you like to try some peppermint tea maybe? That's what I chose for myself, it pairs well with this wintry season."
The inquiries, albeit light-hearted in nature, already exhausted the brunette more than she thought possible. She reached a hand up to scratch at her temple. The beginnings of an ache forming made everything even worse, even more exaggerated. "I would like to go the hell home, honestly," she bitterly responded. Quickly, guilt overtook her and she sighed in irritation. She hadn't meant to come off as rude, but it angered her that she was forced to be there. She wasn't supposed to be in that fucking office; she loathed Franny for dragging her there more than anything. What the hell was the damn shrink going to do for her? Nothing.
Easily, the therapist picked up on the resentment in her client's body language and looked at her with a compassionate mien. She grabbed another cup—from the stack she kept on the shelf underneath her desk—and poured hot water into it using her previously heated tea kettle. "How about I make you a cup and if you want, drink it and if not, you can just leave it. But I can see you're getting agitated so maybe a little tea will do ya a little good."
Lorna meekly welcomed the cup in her hands, setting it down on a coaster on the small coffee table positioned between the couch and desk as if a barrier. "I just don't think this is for me," she muttered; her eyes stared down at the green-tinted liquid in her cup.
"What? Therapy?" The therapist asked and her client nodded. "Why do you think that, Lorna?"
Shrugging, Lorna picked up her tea for a distracting sip. Therapy, she deemed, was for crazy people. And she, herself, was in no way a crazy person. Nor did she have any problems; no, of course not. Everything in her life was absolutely okay—there was nothing about her or her life that she thought warranted the need for therapy. "I don't need therapy, that's why. I am not crazy and I have nothing that needs talked about so this is pointless."
Anger was blatantly obvious in her tone and facial features, Doctor Washington observed. She sipped her tea cautiously, gazing the young teen over methodically. The passion she had for her work—her clients—made her yearn to help and reach them all even stronger. Her lips pursed together as if to bring moisture over them. "You're not crazy, no one in this room thinks that of you. But you don't have to be crazy to need therapy, either, Lorna. Now, I know you don't want to admit anything but we both know there was a specific incident that led you here, yes? I think it's good we start talking about that," her voice softly said.
"Nothing happened. I don't know what incident you're referring to."
"You know that's not true. You don't have to lie here, Lorna," the dark-skinned therapist gently informed her client. "This is a safe place right here, I promise. Nothing you say here will be judged or remarked on in an unhelpful manner. So, please, I need you to be open with me. In order for me to help you properly, we have to be able to talk about tough things."
Despite the authentic vibes that emanated from the words she spoke, an unrelenting exasperation loomed over Lorna. There were tears beneath the lids of her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She had a sudden urge to slam her hands against something and so she did, against the coffee table. "I don't want to talk or even be here," she screeched out, reaching her hands up to cup around her cheeks.
Watching the agony that seemed to be overwhelming Lorna nearly broke Doctor Washington's heart. Comfort was something she yearned to give her, so, she settled for looking into her eyes with an intense expression of empathy on her face. "I know you don't. Sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do, but that we need to. You may feel you don't need therapy, but that doesn't mean that's true. You're angry, I can see that, and I'm sorry."
"I'm more than fucking angry, I'm infuriated," Lorna yelled, looking bewildered as she let an angry hand slick back her hair.
"What about?" Dr. Washington genuinely wondered, keeping her voice soft as if to somehow soothe away the rage that seemed to then take over the atmosphere in her office. She could tell the longer the girl sat there, the more worked up she got. A hand she gestured towards the cup in front of her. "Why don't you have a sip of your tea, yeah? Peppermint has a natural calming effect."
Resistively, Lorna snatched her teacup from the coffee table and brought it vengefully to her lips for a spiteful sip. The anger was all-encompassing. She felt like it was the only thing she could grasp onto at that moment. "Everything. I just—I, this is too fucking much, I can't even think. I want to scream."
"Go ahead and scream," the psychologist instructed, smiling sadly at her. She was just grateful the girl listened and had a drink of her tea like she had gently encouraged. That might be the only thing that could possibly bring some sort of consolation to her.
Arching both of her eyebrows, the brunette looked at her with wide eyes. Arms were defensively folded over her chest as she watched her wearily.
Frowning slightly, Doctor Washington nodded her head. "I mean it. Go ahead and scream. You're allowed to. It might help you feel better, even."
"I am real fucking frustrated and-and I hate everything you say because it makes me even more fucking frustrated. I can't take it anymore, I can't fucking take any of this anymore," Lorna shouted, her voice progressively growing both louder and angrier with each word that spewed out of her mouth. She stood up from the sofa, slamming her hands once more at the surface of the coffee table and then falling aggressively back against the cushion of the couch. Rageful tears lined her eyes and despite her attempts to hold them in, they came falling along her flushed cheeks without warning.
"You're allowed to feel frustrated and upset, Lorna. You need to feel your emotions like this because if you don't, then it's very possible another incident like the one that happened at school could happen again. It's okay to cry, honey, you don't have to hold in your tears—especially not in here, please, I encourage all of my clients to cry when they feel the need to. Crying is healthy. It's natural and a normal thing that we humans do. Society makes us think that crying is weak but it's not, not even close."
Lorna shook her head, even angrier than before. "I am not fucking suicidal. That's the only stupid reason I'm forced to this stupid therapy is because everyone thinks I want to kill myself when I don't. I did not drown myself in the toilet," her voice yelled so piercingly loud that she was sure even people halfway across the world could hear her.
Taking in a deep breath, the therapist finished off her tea and placed the cup in the trash bin that was sitting to the right of her desk. As she turned her focus back on the young client across from her, she reached for her reading glasses from their case in the pockets of her slacks and used her thumb to push them up over her nose. "Do you want to tell me what actually happened that day then? Are you better equipped to discuss that now?"
Her eyes closed for a few seconds; she suddenly felt a calming wave course through her body. The tea in her cup was half gone and she wondered if it really did have a soothing attribute. "There, there's just some girl who likes to pick on me is all," she shyly acknowledged, allowing her brown irises to gaze down at the suede material of the couch she was occupying.
"And this girl who likes to pick on you, is she the reason people are thinking you're suicidal?"
There was a rawness in her throat, the brunette noticed, a sensation she didn't quite understand since she'd polished off a half cup of peppermint tea. She pondered for a moment if the rawness was from all the emotions and feelings she'd been holding back for she couldn't even remember how long or if it was just that the tea wasn't quite as hydrating as plain water. Either way, she let out a huff of air and refocused her attention on the other. The closer she studied her, the more she realized that the woman was only being genuine.
"Yes, she—she's the one who told everyone in the school that I was trying to drown myself in the damn toilet in the girl's room. And they all fucking believe her. Even Red, the school nurse, even she believes it," Lorna felt it all come blurting out of her.
Doctor Washington kept a close observation on Lorna's face, watching for signs of divergent emotions or anguish to display on it. Though it may have been oblivious to the teen, she quickly took note of the tremoring in her legs as she recounted some of the incident. "Well, how about you start at the beginning? What really happened? Was there even an incident or did this girl make it all up?"
The multiple questions were enough, on their own, to elicit a throbbing headache between her temples. Having to respond to them, on the other hand, provoked a constrictive sensation in her chest. She wasn't sure how much she felt willing to share; she certainly didn't plan to mention anything about the reason she had gone to the bathroom in the first place that particular morning. "I just…I went to the girl's room before my first class and, uh-erm-um Annalisa—she's the one who likes to pick on me—followed me into one a the stalls and she just, she-she, um, she kinda pushed me and held my head in the toilet water for a real long time."
To hear the true revelation of what occurred on that day, it proved to be a challenge for the professional darker-skinned woman to keep her own feelings and emotions at bay. However, she allowed herself to take in a deep breath to equal out all that was stirring up. "So this girl who told everyone you were the one to attempt a suicide was really the one who held you down in it?" A mixture of anger and compassion appeared to be brewing within her. She knew it wasn't her place to make any judgements on anyone else but to hear what factually took place, it had angered her.
Lorna uneasily fidgeted in her seat. She averted her eyes back on her lap. "Yes," she answered along with a meek nod of her head.
"I'm so sorry, Lorna. That's such an awful thing, I am stunned to hear something so cruel happened to you. Did you talk with the principal about it? Or any teachers, maybe?"
The brunette casually shrugged her shoulders, the mental wall seemingly building back up. Emotionally and physically exhausted she felt all of a sudden. "No, and I don't plan to. It wouldn't help anyway, it would make everything worse so I don't care. I can manage, I have so far." She lifted a hand to cup around her own cheek, squeezing it out of mental fatigue. All she wanted was for this to be over so she could finally get the hell out of there.
Doctor Washington watched her closely and jotted something down on a piece of sticky-paper that sat on her desk. "I used to work at your high school, a couple of years ago, as a counselor so I know Mrs. Mendoza very well. I'll be getting in contact with her to discuss further assistance that she can provide you with there," she informed the girl in a matter-of-fact tone so that there was no room for arguments.
Grabbing one of her appointment cards, she set it on the surface in front of her to write down the date and time for their next session. When she finished, she gently reached over and handed it to Lorna. "I'm really proud of you for being so open with me today, I know it's really hard for you. We'll meet for another session in a few weeks and in the meantime, I would like for you to meet with Mrs. Mendoza at the school for an hour every other day."
There was an eerie silence that boomed through the car as the two sister's sat quietly in the front two seats. Lorna had her head resting against the rim of the window on the passenger's side while Franny focused her attention on the road in front of her through the windshield. Neither spoke for several passing moments. Not until an unexpected sniffle forced its way from the younger brunette's throat did either girl finally acknowledge their presences. Lorna reached her hands up to touch her cheeks, surprised at the tears that covered over her fingers.
The sound quickly captivated Franny's attention, she turned her head slightly to look her sister over in concern. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen or heard the girl cry. Her brows furrowed worriedly atop her eyes. "How was therapy, hon?" By the looks of it, though, she figured it couldn't have gone well. She reached a hand over to warmly cover over Lorna's, using her thumb to delicately caress around each knuckle.
Lorna swallowed a bundle of saliva and gradually lifted her head from the window to return her sister's gaze. It didn't take a rocket scientist to make out the worried aura that oozed from her face. She felt her heart heavy and averted her eyes downward. "I mean I guess it coulda been worse. I just—I don't like to talk about things, it makes me feel things and I don't want that," she hesitantly answered, watching as her feet kept switching positions.
"Huh, ya don't like to talk about or feel things? Very descriptive and such a shocker," Franny couldn't help but let a light chuckle out at the teen's vivid explanation. Regardless, she squeezed the hand she held while focusing her eyes in front of her as she made a left turn. "But hey, I'm glad to hear ya say that it could have been worse—that means you found some benefit, right?"
"I'm real drained, Fran. She said she wants me to meet with the school counselor every other day and I think that's kinda dumb."
Despite her sister's resistance at the suggestion, Franny was relieved to hear that. She knew Lorna needed more guidance and it was obvious she couldn't provide that for her and their father was as about as useful as a damn rusted doornail. The apprehension on her sister's face, however, formed an ache in her chest; she gave the hand she held another soothing squeeze. "I think that's a real smart idea, hon. You need more help than you're willing to admit. It'll be good for ya."
Lorna plopped herself on the bed in the spare room of her sister's apartment. It was decided before she'd even been taken to her therapy appointment earlier that she would be spending the night at Franny's place; a decision she was beyond grateful for, anything to have time away from Mr. Morello. His behavior only seemed to worsen the more she was at home with him. She felt utter relief to be sleeping over her older sister's house on a school night. If only she could stay there permanently, she thought.
As she situated herself on her stomach, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through until her fingers landed on Nicky's number. Without any hesitation, she clicked the call button and put it up to her ear. It didn't take more than a few rings when she heard the line pick-up. There was noticeable background noise; her eyebrows arched as she tried to make out what it was. Faint sounds of music blaring and voices muffled.
"Hi, hon. I'm sorry did I call at a bad time?"
Nicky tried to find a secluded area in the house of a party she'd been attending. She cradled the phone against hear, using her other hand to cup around it so that she could hear more clearly. "No, no, course' not. I'm just at a party—ya know that girl Boo I told ya about from the school I briefly went to? She invited me to this before I moved back here so I just decided to drop by for a bit."
Boo, the name repeated in her head. A rush of concern seemed to fall over her, then. That was the girl who also gave Nicky heroin, she remembered. "Ain't she the one who gave ya that heroin, Nicky? Ya think being at that party is smart?"
It wasn't hard for Nicky to hear the slight trepidation in her girlfriend's voice and immediately that caused a pang to sit in her chest. "Hey, it's okay, ya know I promised you I wouldn't do anymore of it. I mean that, kid. Please don't worry, yeah?" Soon, her secluded spot filled with a few teens and she rolled her eyes in irritation. She did her best to keep her focus on the phone conversation but all the noise was clouding her mind.
"Okay, hon, I trust you. Just please be careful. I'll, uh, let ya go, yeah? I'm sorry for intruding—forgot you had mentioned the party," Lorna muttered, though sincerity poured from her voice. She hoped she was right to trust Nicky—the last thing she wanted was for the girl she loved to find her way back to that nasty heroin.
Nicky heard the faint consternation in the other's voice and shook her head. She moved to a quieter corner of the room she was in, pushing the phone even closer to her ear. "No, no. You called for a reason, yeah? What's wrong, babe?"
"No reason; all's good, hon. I was just…erm, I had my first appointment with that psychologist today and I was so busy with that that I forgot you were stoppin' at that party tonight. I'll just talk ya later, okay?"
Psychologist appointment? The recollection of their earlier conversation in school that morning finally came back to her and she mentally facepalmed herself. Irritation with herself for forgetting set in and she rolled her head briefly around her shoulders. "Aw, kid, I'm sorry," she murmured softly on the other line, her eyes tender as they focused straight ahead at a rather large sculpture that took up the entire wall. "No, how about you come on down here? Boo won't notice anyway and even if she does, she won't care."
Parties were never something Lorna had an interest in—not just because her dad wouldn't allow her to be caught alive at one but also, the thought of being in an environment that was full of people she probably didn't know and the loudness, it made a shiver run down her spine. However, if it meant time being spent with Nicky, she could sacrifice her discomfort for an evening. Besides, she thought, maybe a night out would keep her from fretting too much over the therapy session.
"I mean is it within walking distance from my sista's place? I can't have her know I'm going to a party or nothin', she might not like that."
"Absolutely not, Lorna. You're not walking here—it's too far and even if it was nearby, there's no way I'd be okay with ya walkin'. I'll shoot Alex a text and have her pick ya up, yeah?"
Lorna nodded as she jumped up from her bed and looked around the drawers of the dresser for a decent outfit to wear. Since she'd been spending more and more nights with her older sister, she deemed it a smart decision to leave some of her clothes there in the spare bedroom for nights like that one. A smile formed on her face, she felt a faint rush of excitement to kind of be sneaking out on a school night to attend a party with her girlfriend and friend.
