Saving Sawyer | ✓

Chapter 03 | Did You Just Quote Yoda?

Author's Note:

No, I've never read Heroes of Olympus.

Yes, it's just a coincidence.

Chapter 03 | Did You Just Quote Yoda?

"You know you can't go on living every day in the past." ― Pretty in Pink 

"Mommy!" I loudly exclaim early Monday morning as I bounce down the stairs and into the kitchen, where my mom is making breakfast.

"No, Sawyer," My mother retorts automatically, not even bothering to return my morning greeting.

"No, Sawyer, what?" I query with a confused look, leaning against the kitchen island and grabbing a banana from the fruit bowl.

"You never call me 'mommy' unless you want something and usually what you want is something ridiculous. So, I'm just going to save you some time and breath and go ahead and say no," She replies casually.

"What are you talking about? That's not true at all," I scoff, rolling my eyes at her accusation, even though it does kind of ring true. I actually don't ever call her 'mommy' because it just sounds a little bit weird to me. I guess I do kinda have a habit of letting it slip when I ask for stuff.

"The last time you called me 'mommy', you asked me for $90 to adopt a kitten from the Humane Society," She reminds me.

"Your point being? What part of that's ridiculous?" I ask with my eyebrows raised suspiciously.

"Your brother is allergic to cats," My mother recaps me with a chuckle.

"Oh, right," I reply, running my fingers through my unruly hair with a shrug. "Well, he's also twenty-one years old and shouldn't still be living at home anyways," I refute. "That's not important though—this time it actually isn't ridiculous at all; I have a very sensible request," I tells her.

"I really doubt that but lay it on me," She urges, turning the stove off and grabbing plates from the cabinet, which I guess means she's done.

"It's about Dr. Fontana," I say with a small sigh.

"What? What about him? Is everything going alright with your sessions?" My mom asks, looking away from the steaming hot breakfast on the stove and over at me with a panicked expression on her face. I sometimes honestly don't think that my mother is indeed my mother. I think she's really Aspen's mom and maybe Aspen's mom is actually mine. I mean, I don't have any legit reason to believe that our parents switched us in our infancy or anything like that but I just think that Aspen and my mother are a lot more alike than my mother and I are. I say this only because they're both incredibly dramatic and they both basically never stop worrying about me now, ever since Flynn and the hospital and my therapy and everything else.

"Yeah, no, everything is totally fine," I inform her. "It's just that I was hoping that you could maybe talk to him," I add, hoping to persuade her.

"Yeah? Talk to him about what?" She asks, walking over to the kitchen table and setting a plate down on one of the placemats before crossing our spacious kitchen and coming back over to the stove, fixing another plate.

"Well, I was just thinking that you could shorten my sessions with him," I admit sheepishly, gauging her reaction, which is bleak.

"Absolutely not, Sawyer," My mom answers, preparing another plate and then taking it over to the kitchen table, setting it on a placemat.

"Mom, I just don't think that it's necessary for me to see him every single day," I respond with a heavy sigh, taking a bite from my banana.