Lori had lost her sense of time in the darkness of the recovery room. The room's clock was hidden in unlit ambiance and neither the faint glow of her surrounding medical equipment nor the faltering gleam of moonlight weakly blending into the shadows through the window could aid her.
The most trustworthy thing she could rely on was the knowledge that she had been up for hours now, a plight that was par for her familiar and equally as wretched course.
Sleepless nights came as easy as breathing for Lori. Her troubled mind was more than enough to deprive her of the peace that came from a good night's rest, but Lincoln had done more than enough to help her insomnia—her first family visit from days ago, namely her brother's actions, had given her plenty to contend with, including the fresh, boiling springs of guilt that bubbled over to the point of submerging her under debilitating fret.
Everything that Lincoln had done before approaching her by himself was, as far as she was concerned, an honest reflection of his true feelings. Everyone else may have been fooled by his phony smile, but his deception was as transparent as stainless glass. It was easy to perceive the truth when she had to play that role herself, always keeping up appearances besides a few, rare exceptions.
And Lincoln was, indeed, an exception. Why wouldn't he be? There was no point in helping Dad keep everyone in the dark when one of the few people who truly knew her was eyeing her from a distance with cold, unflinching judgment in his glare—it was a displeasure that she had rightfully earned for tainting his life and depriving him of joy.
It would've been so easy for him to throw away his burden of his feigned ease and destroy her with his contempt. She guessed that was why he was keeping his distance while everyone else was ravishing her with love and attention—suppressing his true intent while trying to blend in must've tasted like cold, bitter poison slithering down his gullet.
When her parents and sisters left, he shed away his mask of comfort for genuine emotion. But his softened eyes and timid expression—from the way he was jittery limbs shook to his bottom lip clamped by teeth—spoke of apprehension, not anger. From there, she felt even worse. It was one thing for Lincoln to hate her, but to fear her presence? To be deprived of his peace of mind by being within twenty feet of her? That was truly unforgivable.
So why, when he finally had words to spare, did he spend them on...apologizing? Why, when he could've complimented his fury with fiery eyes, were they full to the brim with bitter tears? Was he coerced, possibly by Mom and Dad, into throwing away his conviction just to spare her feelings? Was she so pathetic-looking that he couldn't help but pity her?
Rather than ponder the mystery, she had been far too interested into shutting him up and trying to force those regretful words back down his throat by reminding him that she was owed nothing but his brutal honesty. If anything, he was the one that deserved happiness, and that reality always centered around one possibility.
'If you weren't around, they'd be better off.'
But rather than submit to her reasoning, she was reminded of the depth of her cruelty when he remained firm in his plea for her sense of self-worth, despite that privilege being something that she abused for her own benefit. It made her shiver when he hugged her, but only because a sensation akin to slimy egg yolk trickled sickly down her back when he tried to give her comfort despite her unworthiness.
And thankfully, after he had abruptly left her, that was the last of that.
She received other visits from her family, but it seemed as if her resistance to Lincoln's forgiveness had shooed him away, for he simply joined in the crowd of siblings that surrounded her with smiles and short accounts of what they were up to while she was away—it gave her a sliver of peace to pick up on how he was no longer trying to stand out with acts of folly.
But more than anything, to hear about how stable everything was without her was enough justification for her beliefs. Sure, they gave passing mentions about how they missed her, but that wasn't the same thing as needing her. Leni was probably making sure the younger ones were well taken care of in her stead.
'Bullshit. You know that's not true.'
Lori shook her head, her crippling drowsiness hardly flinching. No, that implied that she had been putting everyone else's needs first the whole time, and Leni was simply continuing the trend in her absence. It was more fair to say that she was starting something beautiful, something that her siblings were denied all along because of her greed.
All of those woes, however, tortured her with less fervor than the pressing matter of what tomorrow had in store for her. When she had bared her wounded soul to her father, she soon realized that she was ultimately leaving her fate in his hands by compelling him to take action. That action was spelled out to her, with no room for negotiation, by her mother earlier in the day. She'd be released from the hospital today, and her next course of action was decided for her.
She was going to see a doctor, and Leni would be coming with her.
"What?"
Lori double-checked the look on her mother's face to be sure that she wasn't pulling her leg with a sick joke. It only took a few seconds of looking at her body language—the defiant crossing of her arms, her firm posture, and the lack of twitching in her tightened lips (as if she was holding back a laugh)—to realize that she wasn't kidding.
Unfortunately, Mom's words were unquestionable. Nothing could've possibly drowned her out from hearing anything else.
"You heard me, Lori. You need to see a GP about your..." Lori felt her heart flutter nervously when Mom had to pause and take a deep breath, despite knowing where she was going. "...well, the possibility of you having depression. Your father told me everything you said to him on Tuesday, and we both think that it's best that we get your mental health evaluated by a professional."
And there it was again. Her proposal was just another version of what Dad tried to get her into the day after Carol had babysat her younger siblings. The only difference was that there was a culprit at the epicenter of all the drama—still, that didn't mean that her "depression", if she even had it, was worth spending money and time on.
"It's okay, Mom," Lori said, shaking her head and managing to force a sliver of a grin on her face. "Really, i-it's fine. You don't have to waste your time with me."
The words were a waste as soon as she saw sadness drown out her mother's defiant stance, her face softening and her bright eyes shimmering instantly. Hell, knowing Mom, she didn't even need that to know they were a waste.
Sure enough, Mom gently placed her hand on her cast and said, with gentle firmness in her voice, "Lori, none of the love and attention your father and I have spent on you has ever been a waste. Caring for you and your siblings has been a blessing that I wouldn't give away for anything. And whether you believe it or not, you've been a blessing to your siblings. All of them want you back as soon as you can."
Mom chuckled as she looked up, as if she was reminiscing. "You should've seen the look on their faces when your father told them that you'd be released tomorrow—I can't remember the last time that Lucy had a smile that big on her face."
Lori couldn't remember the time where Lucy had a big smile on her face, either-at least, to the degree that Mom seemed to be describing. Or rather, she couldn't remember such a smile that was inspired because of her. It only made sense that she could show such joy when she was no longer around to muddy up the perfect family picture.
"Look," Mom continued, "I get that you're a little bit nervous about your upcoming appointment, but you have to understand that this is for your own good. Plus, it doesn't have to be as difficult as you think. That's why, to make things easy, I've thought about bringing Leni along for moral support. I'm sure she'll want to be there for you."
For a split second, Lori couldn't keep her eyelids from flickering up a small fraction from shock.
"Lori?"
The lack of an immediate reply must've been responsible for triggering her concern. To keep her at bay, Lori looked to her and asked, as nonchalantly as possible, "Yes?"
"Get some rest, okay?" Mom said, reaching forward to kiss Lori on the forehead. "You have an important day tomorrow."
…
...
"Okay, Mom."
Even now, hours later, Lori couldn't wrap her head around what dealing with her possible bout of depression was going to solve. She supposed she could blame that on her insomnia and perpetual lethargy, but that would only deal with the physical side of things.
But everything else? The factors that truly mattered in the grand scheme of things? Those factors would remain unchanged. Whether she could look herself in the mirror without cringing or not, she had years of tragedies that she'd never be able to take back. Whether she could make it through a day of school without feeling herself come apart or not, she was still nothing more than a disappointment compared to her siblings.
She was still a lost cause, whether or not she could smile without forcing herself into it—and in just a couple of hours, Leni, the one who always had the most respect for her out of any of her siblings, would be there to realize that, too.
If she hadn't already made the deduction by herself.
Three things greeted Lori when Mom came by to pick her up from Royal Woods General.
Her first observation was the warmth of the early Sunday afternoon. There was a crisp breeze of wind light enough to slightly tousle her hair, but not strong enough to keep the Sun's radiance from heating her skin without baking her to a crisp. Embracing the weather for the first time in nearly a week was hardly a pleasure, though—lately, she was hard pressed to find much of anything a pleasure.
The second thing was the ride in which Mom arrived in when she got to the hospital. A few days ago, Dad had mentioned that he was able to rent a thirteen-passenger minivan. After about a few minutes of walking through the RWG's front parking lot, they made it to the rental. Compared to Vanzilla, the car was pretty modest in size—the blue finish had way more luster and sheen than that of Vanzilla's, though.
Lori's third discovery was...something that she caught on as soon as she opened the passenger side of the car and looked back once she got in her seat. It didn't phase her when Mom had come to get her by herself because she assumed that Leni was waiting for them in one of the back seats.
But, lo and behold, there was no Leni to be found.
"Where's Leni?" Lori asked as she carefully buckled in her seat belt with her good arm, careful to mind her sling-sheltered left forearm.
Mom answered her when she entered on the driver's side, looking ahead with a downcast look. "Well… don't take this the wrong way, but, uh, she didn't want to come."
Lori's brow furrowed as her teeth clenched. Her eyes swelled up, watered, and burned—it felt as if tiny wasp stingers were fit to tear through the cornea from the inside.
'Of course, she didn't want to come. Why would she want to be around yo-'
"Whatever you're thinking, honey, that's not the way it is," Mom said, her sudden touch on her shoulder and her attention-giving stare snapping Lori out of her thoughts more than her words did. "It's just that she didn't think that she could be of any help. It has nothing to do with how horrible you think you are."
Lori could've pressed the conversation with more questions, but that implied that she was out of the loop. It was obvious why Leni didn't want to come. Going with her meant that Leni would have to be in the know about what she was going through, and that probably meant that her parents passed on her words that she had said to Dad onto her sister. From there, Leni made the only call that made sense by keeping her distance from a hopeless case like her—unlike Mom and Dad, she wasn't strong-armed by the law into caring for her and protecting her.
With that freedom, Leni would do what the others would do once they were privy to their eldest sister's misdeeds and inadequacy—when they weren't busy mocking her for pathetically holding onto her "birthright", they'd denounce her for being such a miserable failure.
So Lori sat in silence, saying nothing more as Mom drove away from the place that she didn't need to be in the first place—had those shards of glass from Vanzilla been kinder to her family, they would've done everyone justice as soon as they burst asunder from the car crash and slit her throat wide open.
Dr. Pennington's office was, of course, as immaculate as it had always been.
A round, wooden coffee table—resting stacks of magazines, pens, and brochures on top—was centered in the middle of the waiting room, surrounded by two rows of thickly padded black vinyl chairs on either side. A flat screen television—hanging overhead the elegant, glass-top receptionist's desk—looped a myriad of local commercials with bright colors and an even brighter voice-over accompanying each ad. Impressionist paintings of nature—trees, flowers, and grassy hills—decorated the sandy beige walls.
Rita was grateful that she was the only one occupying the waiting room, besides the female, middle-aged receptionist that was too busy minding her work at her station to bother her. It may have been presumptuous to think that anyone would want to pry into her business to begin with, especially patients with their own crosses to bear, but she didn't need the risk of the contrary looming around her—she wanted her undivided attention on Lori, not on well-intended concerns from those who saw the worried look on her face.
She had routinely checked her watch, more out of a nervous tic than measured practicality, and doing so the last time (less than thirty seconds ago) told her that she had been waiting just a little over an hour. Her right foot tapped against the floor, drowning out the ticking of the clock above her head.
Rita blew out a breath she had been keeping in her chest, slighting alleviating her anxiousness. Besides Lori's general well-being, there was the subject of confidentiality to fret about. Barring the horrid outcome of Lori posing a danger to herself, there was nothing Dr. Pennington could do if her daughter wanted to shut her out. That, of course, would mean that everything wasn't as bad as she thought they were, but there was no comfort in being left out of the loop for even the tiniest bit of Lori's woes.
She looked at her watch again, but quickly drew away from it to look up—the faint sound of a closing door, followed by the distant sound of footsteps seized her attention. Sure enough, around that corner came Lori, followed closely behind by Dr. Pennington. She was a tall, fair-skinned woman with her pale blonde hair tied in a ponytail—the traces of gray strands and crow's feet betrayed her age, possibly putting the woman in her late forties. The authoritative air around her, along with the thin line that formed her indifferent frown, told of bad news yet to be delivered.
In any case, without Dr. Pennington's invitation, Rita sprung from her seat and rushed over. She stretched her arms out for a hug, but quickly drew her arms back to the side at the last minute, minding her cast. She settled for putting a hand on Lori's head while she gave her attention to the doctor.
"Is everything okay with Lori, doctor?" Rita asked, glancing down at Lori for a split second.
Rita felt her chest tighten when Dr. Pennington didn't smile.
"Well," the doctor began, "from what I was able to evaluate, there was nothing that I was required to tell you if Lori felt that she didn't want you to know anything. In other words, not only is Lori okay with you having full disclosure with what we discussed, but I'm confident that her issues don't have...life-threatening concerns."
Instinctively, Rita brought Lori a little closer—just hearing the term "life-threatening" made her breath catch.
"From the blood test we took—which was done to rule out any specific causes of her symptoms—followed by the screening of her mental health with the PHQ-9, the BDI, and the HAM-D, I was able to diagnose Lori with moderate depression, though it's close to teetering into severe territory from the test results and the brief one-on-one conversation we had. From what she told me, she'd been dealing with it for about a month now."
The official diagnosis made her sigh in bitter acceptance rather than total despair—she could only hope for the least awful but plausible outcome, and moderate depression was close enough.
"I have copies of the diagnostic surveys she took. Lori's willing to let both you and her father have a look at them. I recommend that you take them to a therapist, if Lori wants to go through with such a visit. It'd be a great aid for them and whatever treatment plan they come up with."
Before she knew it, the doctor wrote up a prescription and held it out to Rita.
"In addition, I'm giving her Prozac to take for her symptoms," she said as Rita used her other hand to grab it. "Ten milligrams for a week, followed by an additional ten milligrams after that. Start having her take her doses in the morning, preferably right after she wakes up. If you feel as though the medication isn't having any effect after a few weeks, make sure to contact me before you consider changing her dosage."
Rita's eyes were too busy being glued to the prescription to see Dr. Pennington smile at her, though she could almost hear it in her voice when she addressed her.
"Try not to worry too much, Rita. We'll do everything we can to help your daughter."
Rita tried to smile herself, but she couldn't. She was almost in a trance, only able to hear the doctor's words as she re-read "10 mg" over and over again. Finally, she managed to find her voice after ten seconds, though her reply was stiff, almost callous to the generosity she and Lori were being treated to.
"Yes. Yes, of course. Thank you, doctor."
From there, she waited for Dr. Pennington to come back with the test results. In the back of her mind, she wondered what she was going to do once she and Lynn had to tell the others.
The ride home was smooth sailing through the quiet lanes of her neighborhood, but Lori couldn't have cared less.
It was finished. She had spilled her guts—making sure not to spare on detail—but only because she felt so drained, too weak to make much resistance. Besides, there was no merit in keeping her mouth shut. Sooner or later, everyone would know about who she truly was and if her parents were going to blow money and love on a hopeless cause like her, it was better to just lay out all her cards on the table and have them realize how pointless it was to worry about her.
"Lori?"
Lori perked up, her half-open eyes blinking rapidly as she groaned, "Hmm?"
"Thank you for letting me in. I really appreciate you for doing that."
Rather than answer, Lori felt sleepiness gently lulling her back into the abyss. For whatever reason, visiting Dr. Pennington made her exhausted, more tired than she had felt in a while. She supposed it didn't help that she hadn't gotten much sleep before waking up at five in the morning, but that couldn't make her disregard how surprisingly...empty her head felt.
"When we get home," Mom continued, "I need you to get some rest, alright? You look like you haven't slept well lately."
Whatever it was about her statement made Lori jump in her seat, fully alert. She didn't deserve rest, not until her penance was paid for. After all, it was the weekend, which meant that she was still in the doghouse.
"But what about my chores?" Lori asked.
Mom shook her head and scoffed. "Forget about them. You're no longer grounded. You've already been through enough as it is. Just get some sleep."
"But, Mom, I−"
"Please, Lori. Just...please get some rest."
It made Lori's gut twist in knots when she realized that she was getting off easy...again. First with Dad, then with Lincoln, and now this. And then, it was like her head was being squeezed by a vice all over again, the throbbing pain keeping her tiredness at bay like always.
All it did was make Lori's heart ache to know that it'd be nigh impossible to keep her word to her mother now.
Lincoln laid in bed, having a fourth look at the message that Mom had sent out in a group text about five minutes ago.
"Lori and I are coming home very soon, probably in a few minutes. I know you're all very excited to see your sister again, but she needs her rest. That's why I want all of you to remain in your rooms until Lori's in bed. None of you are to disturb her while she's recovering. In the meantime, Leni, I want you to move out of your room and stay with someone else."
Lincoln didn't need a text message from Mom to stay away from Lori. He had, more or less, done that of his own accord ever since Tuesday (or at least, he wasn't about to face her one-on-one). Even now, the words that Lori left him before he left the hospital haunted him. The magnitude of her despair was horrifying enough as it was, but what made it worse was that a week ago...he most likely wouldn't have been felt dissatisfied to hear her have such a low opinion about herself.
He was happy that when they visited Lori after the first occasion, she seemed...way better than before. He chalked it up to him keeping her distance, even if he wasn't really trying to make her feel better as a result—in all honesty, he just didn't have any more words to give after it looked like the worst of her guilt was over. Still, she probably appreciated not having one of the sources of her anguish confronting her without anyone else around that wasn't guilty of scorning her.
He had smiled while he was with her, but only for as long as he could allow himself to do so. There was still guilt in what he had done to make her feel so horrible, meaning that his bright grin was somewhat forced. There was some relief in the fact that Lori didn't outright resent him, but what was that supposed to mean in terms of a satisfying resolution to everything between them? What could be possibly say or do to make everything back to the way it was before? One paltry apology wasn't going to be enough, especially when her conscience-shredding words tormented him nearly every night before he went to sleep—they'd be nothing but a distant, harmless memory if he could make true amends.
Suddenly, light rapping knocked against his door, followed by the sound of his father's voice.
"Lincoln? I need you out here, buddy."
Lincoln stuffed his phone in his pocket and scrambled out of bed and made his way towards the door. He flung it open and answered, before looking at Dad in the eye, "Yeah, Dad? What's up?"
Dad jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the staircase. "Look, I need you to go to the living room. Lana, Lisa, Lucy, and Lola will be joining you."
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "What for?"
Dad's brow furrowed. "I'll explain later. Just do as I say, and be quick about it."
Lincoln felt a breadth of fear from Dad's solemn face and firm tone, not used to seeing him use such stern authority. Nodding, he slipped past Dad and made a beeline for the stairs.
Soon, the living room couch became fully occupied. Lola was the first to join Lincoln, followed by Lisa, Lana, and Lucy. There was no time for speculation behind Dad's actions, at least not out loud—Dad's swift arrival, along with the somberness that wafted off of him like a bad stench, left the children speechless.
Lincoln nearly cringed when his father's face finally came into view—if his stoniness from a few minutes ago was daunting, then the dejected look on his face was even more unsettling. A band of tension wrapped around his chest like a tight rubber band, even as he could feel Lana and Lola pressing into him on either side—a quick glance on both their faces spoke of apprehension, perhaps more than what he had brimming under the surface.
"Your mother's speaking with your other siblings in Luna and Luan's bedroom," Dad said. "I'm in charge of telling you the news."
"Pertaining to what, exactly?" Lisa asked with folded arms, the impatience in her tone more than Lincoln would've dared to use.
"That's what I'd like to know, too," Lucy replied from her perch on one of the couch's arms.
"Are we in trouble?" Lola asked. The timidness in her expression quickly drained out when she pointed to Lana, her gesture assertive and self-assured. "Because if we are, it was totally Lana's fault."
Lana's eyes widened and her lips formed a tight snarl as her head quickly swiveled over to Lola. "What?! Hey, I didn't do anything!"
Lola snorted. "Of course, you did. Why else would we be down here?"
Redness consumed Lana's face as her nostrils flared. "I already told you I didn't do anything! You better take that back!"
"Sorry," Lola said, capping off her dismissive remark with a sweeping wave of her hand, "I don't speak to troublemakers."
"Enough!"
The booming voice of their father cracked like a gun shot, igniting a burning flash of terror into Lincoln's heart—by the way the twins immediately shrunk into their seats, the effect spurred them into respect the most.
"This isn't the time for acting up. This is very important, and any further monkey business will be punished." The pointed look on Dad's face swept over to the others, ensuring that they all got a good look. "That goes for everyone. Am I clear?"
No longer frozen up, Lincoln and his younger sisters nodded.
"Good. Now then, as I said before, your mother's speaking with your older sisters while I'm speaking with all of you." He took a moment to wipe at his eyes with his sleeve. "It's about Lori. She came home a few minutes ago, and she's trying to get some rest. Basically, this is about good news and...bad news. Very bad news."
Lincoln nearly swallowed his tongue as he gulped. A budding chill spiked through his spine and made his legs shake. Whatever this news was, he hoped that the "very bad" part of it didn't spell out an unshakable dilemma.
"The good news is that even though she's in a cast, the damage to her forearm won't be permanent. In about about a month or so, she'll be ready for physical therapy, and the screws in her arms will be ready to come out. As far as her arm goes, there's a good chance it'll be as good as new before we all know."
Dad took another second to pause and rub at his eyes, this time with his hand. Lincoln noted that before he did, there was shimmering wetness that nearly pooled of his eyes and streaked down his face—it only made his gut clench.
"Which takes me to the very bad news. Right now, Lori's dealing with something much worse than a broken arm. Much worse. After Lori left the hospital, your mother took her to see our family doctor about her...mental health. You see, Rita and I have had our concerns about her ever since the car accident, especially after I saw her the day after. Dr. Pennington told us that Lori's been having depression for a month or so. It's close to being severe."
It was if a big, hot branding iron smacked Lincoln across the face, less with the horror behind the news and more with how easily he allowed himself to believe that besides a little self-deprecation, Lori was just fine.
And how did he arrive at such an optimistic outlook? Because he wanted it? Because he wanted the blood of an even worse situation off his hands to ease his conscience? He only had a smattering of understanding about what "depression" was, but the weight of Lori's troubles still grieved him to the point of his throat choking up and his fingers curling into fidgety fists.
He was too absorbed in his own misery to notice Lisa, who scrambled off the couch with her back turned to everyone. She was almost at the bottom step of the staircase until she paused the moment Dad called out to her.
"Lisa? Where are you going? I need you to−"
"Forgive me, father," Lisa interrupted, a noticeable quiver in her voice, "but I...I need some time alone to process this information. I'll be in my room if you need me."
Lincoln half-expected Dad to put his foot down and call her back over, but he allowed her to leave on her own terms. Meanwhile, Lola, Lana and Lucy (to a seemingly lesser extent) seemed...almost unfazed.
"Wait, what's...depression?" Lola asked with a shrug, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"It can mean different things for different people, Lola, but in Lori's case, it means that she's been feeling miserable almost every day lately. For most people, when they get sad, they can get over it normally. But for depressed people like your sister, the sadness eats them up almost all the time. It's not something that anyone can just brush aside easily."
"But why?" Lana asked.
"She doesn't think that she's worth any of our love," Dad continued. "Lori's been putting a lot of unhealthy, unnecessary guilt on herself for everything that's been happening around here lately, like the car crash, the canceled family vacation, and the babysitting incident with Carol. She feels responsible for making your lives worse instead of better."
At the mention of Lori's guilt, Lincoln squirmed and squeezed his eyes shut—air rushed into his lungs as he sharply inhaled through his nose.
"And on top of that, she feels as though she's not as special as the rest of you. That's why she loved being in charge so much—it was the only thing she felt that she had to stand out from everyone else."
"But she was so happy every time we saw her," Lucy said. "How can someone with depression smile like that?"
Dad shook his head and sighed. "Sometimes, when we care about the people we love, we try to hide our pain from them so they don't have to worry. I think that's what Lori wanted to do for as long as she could, until she felt like she didn't have a choice. The most important thing we can do for her is to be patient. Depression is a serious problem that you can't beat overnight. Just be there for her as much as you can. Go out of your way to remind her how special she is, and how she doesn't deserve to feel like dirt just because she made some mistakes. Can I trust you all to do that?"
Whether Dad knew it or not, his last words spoke directly to Lincoln. He didn't answer with a nod or a "Yes, Dad," like the others, but he still felt...empowered, resolute to do whatever he could to help Lori.
He wouldn't deny that there was selfishness on his end—in the form of desiring for his relationship with Lori to truly be restored—but he also wouldn't oppose the motivation it'd give him to do whatever he needed to do. There was a jagged, rusty stake jammed through Lori's heart with his name on it—that much was certain—but his guilt would only make him think about how miserable he felt.
From now on, his focus would only be on Lori as long as it could.
There was only so much Rita could do to deliver the news in the most delicate way she could, but the damage was done as soon as she was finished. She would've joined Luan as she buried her face in Luna's chest for comfort or looked pensively through the window like Lynn as she sat on the edge of Luan's bed, but she needed to be strong.
Especially for what was in front of her now.
Her meeting with her oldest children (save Lori) had ended a few minutes ago, but she needed to speak with Leni in private, hence why she called her out and had her wait for her by Lincoln's room. When she had finally joined Leni, she was met with more of the same, more of what she had seen since yesterday—a downcast expression with the ghastly look of her eyes shifting down to the floor.
It was the complete opposite of the faces she wore when she had been in front of Lori during their family visits, but Rita supposed that she could only blame herself for the burden that she had put on Leni's shoulders when she asked for her help.
Still, that didn't explain why it was a burden in the first place.
"Leni, I need you to be honest with me," Rita said. "Why didn't you want to go with your sister today? When I told you that she might be hurt even worse than she looked, why didn't you feel like coming along?"
Leni's eyes hardly even flinched up in her direction.
"Look, I know you didn't want to...say anything after I asked you the first time, but you heard what I told you all, right? Everyone has to do there part to give Lori the support that she needs. If there's something about her that makes you feel uncomfortable, you need to−"
Rita held her tongue when Leni shook her head and spoke again when she was done.
"Then what is it?"
When silence met her demand, Rita had to advise herself against asking Leni again with more sternness…
...especially now that she could hear Leni sniffling. Before she knew it, her daughter was staring back at her, tears slipping down her cheeks like raindrops.
"It's me, okay?" she croaked as she pointed to herself. "I'm the problem."
Rita felt her heart crush into fine powder—as if a giant mallet slammed down on it with am earth-splitting, deafening crash—as her stomach turned.
"I-I let her g-get hurt, even w-when I..." Leni cleared her throat, wiping away the choking hold her sadness had on her voice. "...even when I knew something was wrong. If I was better, if I was like...like Lori, I wouldn't have allowed her to be in so much pain. So, like, what good am I gonna do? If I couldn't be there for her when she needed me before, what am I supposed to do now?"
Before she knew it, Rita had Leni in a hug, her chin capping off the crown of her head as it nestled in her hair. Even if she couldn't look Leni in the eyes, she at least believed that she had the right words to spare for someone who deserved to feel the least amount of guilt in anyone of this.
"Leni, if anyone should feel like a failure for letting Lori suffer for so long, it's your father and me," Rita said sadly. "You ran to us for help, and we both ignored you—and we're both truly sorry for that. But even still, the both of us are doing whatever we can to make sure she beats her depression. So then, how much more can the first person to actually notice a problem do? How much more can one of Lori's closest friends do?"
The trickles of tears didn't stop, but Rita felt comfort in the fact that when Leni squirmed her face out of her mother's bosom to look up at her there seemed to be...some sort of wavering resolution shimmering with her sparkling tears.
"You're better than you think you are, Leni," Rita continued. "That's why I want to leave you in charge of a big responsibility. Lori's going to be taking some medication to help with her symptoms. I want you to make sure that she takes one tablet every morning after she wakes up, starting tomorrow. She'll need to take more eventually, but she only needs one tablet for now. If you need any help, then your father and I can always step in if you need it. But I figured that you can handle it. Can you do that for me? For Lori?"
She could feel herself tense up from uncertainty when Leni pulled herself out her grasp. The feeling only grew when Leni turned around, facing Lincoln's door as her shoulders slumped forward and her head bowed as she let out a long sigh. She stayed that way for a few more seconds, then looked back at Rita over her shoulder. All of Rita's fears dissolved into the air when her daughter's look of determination addressed her, along with a smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.
"Yes," Leni replied, blinking back the last of her tears into her reddened eyes. "Yes, I can."