At 7 a.m., Shelby tiptoed into Santana's bedroom, her footsteps light on the carpet. She moved to the window and pulled open the blinds, allowing the golden morning light to flood the room. With a gentle flick of the switch, the overhead lights hummed to life, casting a warm glow over the space where books piled haphazardly on the desk, clothes draped over the chair, and posters adorning the walls.
With a warm smile, Shelby made her way to the edge of the bed, , where she sat down softly, trying to rouse Santana from her slumber.
Santana, a teenager with a nest of tousled hair and a faded band t-shirt, stirred beneath the blankets stirred slightly but refused to open her eyes. Groggy and resistant, she mumbled, "I changed my mind; I don't want to go." In a desperate attempt to block out the bright light, she buried her face into the pillows, curling up and hiding from the day that awaited her.
Shelby, her heart aching for her daughter yet resolute, gently tugged the pillows away from Santana's face. "Tiger, listen to me. You and Rachel agreed to go to therapy with Doctor Christine Alderson today. You need to get up, get dressed, and put some food in your belly before I take you and Rachel to her appointment."
Santana finally turned to face her mom, her brows knitted together defiantly. "Mom, I'm not a crazy lunatic who needs to talk to a shrink. I'm not going, and you can't make me," she muttered, her voice muffled as she sank deeper into her blankets.
No one says you're crazy tiger and As a mother, I can and I will make you go. That's final," Shelby replied, her tone steady but warm. "Now get your behind out of bed before you end up with a sore bottom," she added, using her best attempt at a playful tone, but the underlying seriousness was unmistakable.
Santana finally turned to face her mom, her brows knitted together defiantly. "Mom, I'm not a little kid who needs to be threatened with spankings all the time just because you don't like how I behave!" Santana shot back, finally rising to a sitting position, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and hurt.
Shelby narrowed her eyes slightly, firming her stance. "Watch how you speak to me, Tiger. I don't appreciate your tone. You need to treat me with respect," she replied, her voice measured, though the concern laced within it was clear.
Santana locked eyes with her mother, the air between them crackling with unspoken emotions as the soft, cool morning light filtered through the window, casting delicate patterns on the floor. They stood there in a tense silence, a profound mix of defiance and vulnerability radiating from both of them. Santana could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she grappled with the weight of the moment, until finally, she managed to break the standoff with a hesitant promise: she would attend one therapy session.
"If you don't like this doctor, we can find you another therapist who can help," Shelby said, her voice steady yet imbued with warmth, each word carefully chosen in an attempt to diffuse the heavy tension that enveloped the room.
"I'm okay with it," Santana replied, nodding slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. With that, she turned and walked toward her closet, her footsteps soft on the carpet as she began to sift through her clothes, the familiar smell of cotton and fabric calming her racing thoughts. After selecting an outfit that felt just right, she made her way to the bathroom, the light from the window illuminating her reflection as she prepared for the day ahead. Meanwhile, her mother quietly exited the room, giving her the space she needed while patiently waiting for her to get ready.
In another part of the house, Cassie was trying to rouse Rachel from her slumber. Rachel, cocooned in her blankets, stubbornly refused to get up, her eyes tightly shut against the world. Cassie, determined and persistent, gently nudged her daughter, using a mix of encouragement and playful teasing until, with a reluctant sigh, Rachel finally relented and began the process of getting ready for the day.
After Rachel and Santana finished getting dressed, the kitchen filled with the aroma of breakfast. Santana poured herself a bowl of crispy apple jacks, the colorful pieces tumbling into the bowl with a cheerful crunch. Meanwhile, Rachel busied herself preparing a savory tofu scramble, the enticing scent of spices wafting through the air.
Once they had finished their meal, a sense of eagerness intertwined with nerves bubbled within them. After taking their prescribed medication, the trio climbed into Shelby's car, the air thick with anticipation. Santana slid into the passenger seat, a sense of purpose fueling her as Rachel settled comfortably into the backseat, her gaze drifting out the window to the scenery blurring by.
As they drove along the winding roads, the atmosphere in the car shifted to a more contemplative silence. Santana reached over to turn off the radio, allowing the soothing hum of the engine to envelop them. Aware of her daughter's unease, Shelby placed a gentle hand on Santana's, offering a tender squeeze that spoke volumes. "Don't be so nervous, sweetheart," she murmured, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance, a balm for Santana's restless spirit as they approached Dr. Christine Alderson's home.
Upon arriving, the sense of occasion hung heavily in the air. Shelby found a spot on the couch, exuding a calm demeanor, while Santana and Rachel nestled in beside her, occupying each side like steadfast pillars of support. The anticipation transformed into palpable tension as they awaited the arrival of Dr. Alderson.
When the doctor finally entered, her presence struck a harmonious balance between professionalism and warmth. "Hello, Mrs. Corcoran, Miss Santana, and Miss Rachel," she greeted them, a genuine smile illuminating her face. "Miss Corcoran, I trust you found my office without any difficulty.
"Yes, I did, thank you for accommodating them today," Shelby responded, her voice rich with gratitude.
"Of course," Dr. Alderson replied, nodding with a kind expression that seemed to soften the tension in the room. "I'd like to speak with both of them together, and you're welcome to join us if they are comfortable with your presence."
As they made their way to the doctor's office, a sense of solidarity was palpable. Santana instinctively tightened her grip on her mother's arm, drawing strength and reassurance from the familiar touch, while Rachel gently grasped Shelby's other arm, her heart racing in sync with the whirlwind of emotions swirling around them.
Upon reaching the office, Dr. Alderson settled into her chair, reaching for a notepad and pen resting on her desk. "My name is Dr. Christine Alderson, and I've been practicing as a therapist for over ten years," she began, her tone melodic yet reassuring. "There's no need to feel anxious around me; today is simply about us getting to know each other. I'm here to provide you both with the tools you need." She paused, her gaze shifting to Rachel and Santana. "I've read through your files, and I'd like to speak with Miss Berry first."
Both teenagers nodded, a flicker of nervousness crossing their faces. Dr. Alderson leaned forward slightly, her demeanor inviting. "So, Rachel, what brings you here today?"
Taking a deep breath, Rachel summoned her courage, her chest rising and falling as she prepared to convey her truth. "Well, Shelby brought me here because I'm having trouble coping with things that don't go my way," she admitted, the quaver in her voice revealing her vulnerability and unease.
Dr. Alderson nodded thoughtfully, her eyes brimming with empathy as she encouraged Rachel to delve deeper. "And why do you think that is?" she asked, eager to unearth the complexities woven throughout Rachel's feelings.
Rachel hesitated, her brow furrowing in concentration as she reflected on her experiences. "I'm not sure exactly," she began slowly, her voice gaining a foothold of strength. "When I lived with my dads, they always gave me anything I asked for without hesitation. It's been the same in Mr. Schuester's Glee club." A sharp scoff from Santana interrupted Rachel, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face.
Dr. Alderson diligently jotted down notes, her pen gliding effortlessly across the page as she maintained her focus on Rachel's words. "What do you think motivates them to give you these things, even when you haven't earned them?" she inquired, her curiosity genuine.
"It makes me feel ecstatic," Rachel replied, her eyes brightening with a mix of pride and frustration. "I've always been at the top, and I put in the work to be the best—no one can match my singing abilities."
Dr. Alderson's pen continued its dance across the notepad, capturing the essence of Rachel's emotions. "We will explore this further in our therapy sessions, Miss Berry. By the way, have you ever been to therapy before?"
"No, I haven't," Rachel answered, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Can you share a bit about your current and past mental health?" Dr. Alderson asked, her tone gentle yet inquisitive.
Rachel paused, her brow furrowing as she considered her journey. "I didn't know anything was wrong with me until recently when they diagnosed me with a mild case of autism. Other than that, I really don't know," she admitted, her voice trailing off uncertainly.
Dr. Alderson wrote down Rachel's response before inquiring, "Are you currently taking any medication? If so, please provide me with the name and dosage you've been prescribed."
After Rachel provided her answer, Dr. Alderson gracefully shifted her gaze towards Santana, her expression radiating warmth and encouragement. "And what brings you here today?" she inquired, her voice a soothing melody that enveloped the room in a calming presence, inviting Santana to share her feelings in the supportive atmosphere they were fostering together.
Santana shifted uncomfortably in her seat, an air of reluctance hanging around her like a dense fog. "Honestly, I really don't want to be here," she admitted, her voice barely rising above a whisper, each word dripping with reluctance. "But my mom has drilled it into me time and again that I need to talk to someone about the issues I've been facing. I've landed in quite a bit of trouble lately because of it."
As Santana spoke, Dr. Alderson leaned in slightly, her pen poised above her notepad, eager to capture every nuance of Santana's emotions. "Can you elaborate on that?" she asked gently, her eyes locked onto Santana's, providing a silent encouragement for her to delve deeper into her thoughts and feelings.
Santana's brow furrowed as she recalled her challenges. "Both of my moms keep telling me that I often run off at the mouth and need to choose my words more respectfully. I've found myself making rude comments to people even when they're not talking to me, and sometimes I don't care about how the other person feels."
Dr. Alderson nodded thoughtfully, a compassionate understanding in her demeanor. "Those are wise words from your moms, Miss Santana. It sounds like you haven't always found it easy to heed their advice," she noted, her tone encouraging further exploration.
"Sometimes I do, but it just gets hard when someone makes me angry," Santana replied, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.
Dr. Alderson diligently scribbled down Santana's words in her notes, her expression focused and attentive. "We will discuss this further in your next session," she assured, giving Santana a moment of reassurance.
Santana nodded, her fingers fidgeting nervously as she twisted them together, seeking comfort in their familiar rhythm.
Dr. Alderson flashed her a warm, inviting smile. "You don't have to be nervous with me, Miss Santana. I'm here to help you. But first, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions. Have you ever been to therapy before?"
"No, this is my first time," Santana replied honestly, her voice barely above a murmur.
"Can you share with me about your current and past mental health?" Dr. Alderson asked, her gaze steady and assuring, creating an open space for Santana's truth to emerge.
"My mom's doctor told me the other day that I'm healthy, but I have ADHD because someone in my birth family has it," Santana explained, her voice tinged with resignation.
Dr. Alderson noted this carefully, her pen gliding smoothly across the page. "Are you currently taking any medication? If so, can you provide me with the name and dosage you've been prescribe"?" she inquired, her tone patient and understanding.
"Yes, I take medication for my ADHD," Santana replied, a sense of clarity returning as she shared the specifics of her treatment with Shelby's guidance.
Dr. Alderson jotted down the details on her notepad, creating a comprehensive understanding of Santana's journey.
"Santana and Rachel, could you please step out for a moment? I need to have a word with your mom," Dr. Anderson said, her voice a gentle but firm balm amidst the gathering tension. Her eyes flicked compassionately toward the two teenage girls.
With heavy hearts and furrowed brows, the girls shuffled into the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps echoing softly against the hard tile floor. They chose adjacent seats on the cold, unforgiving benches, their posture starkly highlighting the silent weight of unspoken worries. The air around them felt thick with uncertainty as they exchanged not a word, each trapped in her own swirling thoughts and fears that hung palpably between them.
Once the door closed behind the girls, Shelby turned to Dr. Anderson, concern etched across her face. "How are they doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with maternal instinct.
Dr. Anderson let out a soft, measured sigh, her expression growing serious as she met Shelby's gaze. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Shelby. Those two girls are in desperate need of help. I'm grateful you brought them in. I can already see the daunting challenges they face."
She continued, her tone steady. "Rachel struggles with deep-rooted abandonment issues. She's caught in a relentless pursuit of perfection, often neglecting her own well-being just to meet the expectations she imagines others have of her—an exhausting battle that leaves her drained. Then there's Santana. There's a simmering anger pent up inside her, a raw reaction stemming from her difficult past with her birth family. Unfortunately, she tends to lash out at others as a defensive measure, a shield she believes protects her. On top of that, she grapples with ADHD; once her medication kicks in, it will help her stabilize, and if you notice any changes in her behavior, we can explore different options."
Dr. Anderson leaned forward slightly, her sincerity palpable. "With the right support and guidance, I believe I can help Rachel navigate those fears and assist Santana in channeling her anger in healthier ways. Together, they can carve a path toward healing."
"Thank you so much, Dr. Anderson," Shelby replied, a warm smile breaking through her anxious demeanor.
"That's my job," Dr. Anderson replied with a reassuring nod. As they moved toward the door, she added, "You can schedule their next appointment now. I'd like to see Santana first, then Rachel the following day. I don't want to overwhelm either one of them. Have a great day."
Shelby walked to the front desk and scheduled their next therapy appointment for Monday at 5 PM before they both stepped out into the sunny weather.
Having finished with their first therapy session, the two teenagers felt a mix of relief and apprehension as they headed home with Shelby. By 4 PM, they arrived at Shelby's mother's house, where laughter and splashes soon filled the air. The girls dove into the inviting pool, their worries momentarily forgotten as they hung out, surrounded by the warmth of sunlight and the soothing ripples of water, finding a fleeting sense of joy amidst the chaos of their lives.
Meanwhile, as the four teenagers enjoyed their time in the pool, the adults gathered in the kitchen, deep in conversation. They discussed Rachel and Santana's therapy progress, their voices mingling with the aromas of a delicious meal being prepared. Nana Stacy, with her warm smile and wise eyes, shared her pride and relief, expressing how happy she was that her granddaughters were finally receiving the help they needed to begin healing.
After an hour of carefree fun, Cassie and Shelby, filled with gratitude for Nana's Stacy kind words, ventured outside to call the girls out of the pool. As they all reluctantly left the refreshing water behind, they headed indoors to take soothing showers, washing away the remnants of their worries. Soon, the delicious scent of dinner wafted through the house, inviting everyone to gather around the table for a meal filled with laughter and togetherness.
After a delightful dinner brimming with laughter and animated stories, Kitty approached her mothers with a radiant smile that lit up her face. "Can I spend the night with Grandma?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation and joy. Her mothers exchanged thoughtful glances, their hearts warmed by their daughter's enthusiasm, and soon nodded in agreement. A collective smile filled the room, mirroring the happiness of the evening as they all left the dining table, ready to return to the comforts of home.
As they arrived home, the family slipped into their soft, cozy nightclothes, the gentle fabric enveloping them in a warm embrace. They gathered in the inviting glow of the living room, the flickering light from the lamp creating a cozy ambiance as they prepared to enjoy a hilarious comedy movie. The room resonated with laughter flowing from the screen, a cheerful sound that added to the warmth of the night. Gradually, the soothing rhythm of the cinematic tale began to lull Santana into a peaceful slumber, her eyelids growing heavy with sleep.
With a gentle nudge, Cassie softly shook her awake, and together they made their way upstairs, guiding Santana to her bedroom. Once Cassie returned downstairs, she found Shelby engrossed in a warm conversation on the phone with their daughter Kitty, wrapping up with sweet wishes for sweet dreams and a goodnight. Outside, the soft hum of the night enveloped the house, while remnants of laughter continued to echo from the movie, creating a comforting backdrop to an evening filled with love and family connection.