Baby's Breath

Chapter 26: lies of truth

Compared to my cute tunics and leggings, dressing like a slob did something to Dad. Had Mom talked to him? Maybe I made it obvious that I was depressed. I don't know which, but at this point, I didn't care because it didn't matter.

"Comb your hair, I'm taking you to see Dr. Roberts."

"What?" I sprang from the couch with a choke stuck in my throat. My aching body didn't let me rise with grace. I toppled back down. "Why?"

Mom and Dad exchanged worried glances. I saw her cover her face, but the tears glistened before she rubbed them away.

"Your mother has been crying over you the last few weeks. I thought it was her damned newspaper reading again."

Our eyes connected and I felt her pain lance through my heart. I had hurt her. My chin trembled from the ache I'd caused her. "I'm okay, Dad, just . . ." My brain scrambled for excuses. "Just dealing with swimming trauma and Wesley's death." I dropped my gaze, unable to meet him in the eye.

"We understand that those could very well be the causes of your depression, but you need to work out the kinks. You deserve happiness. I'll be in the car."

"No, Dad. You set the appointment already?" I bit my lip, knowing better than to argue with him. Mom rose and walked into me with a hug.

"I love you, sweetling. We just want you to be happy and we feel that this therapist will be able to get to the root of your troubles."

My stomach cramped with nausea, as if it could anymore, and I reeled the entire drive there. Dad talked to me about learning how to cope with loss and trauma and how war veterans had to seek therapy too.

There was a vacuum in my brain; I couldn't think, talk, or move. What was I going to tell the counselor? I knew they'd studied the art of the human mind, they'd know what a person was thinking by their body language, their expressions, their answers.

Ready tears wet my face and I slumped toward the window, blindly watching the green scenery fly by. I sneaked a glance at Dad and was taken aback when I didn't see his usual pinched eyebrows. There was a soft look in his gaze as he maneuvered the car into the parking lot.

Instant guilt weighted me down. That expression won't be there once he found out the truth. "Dad," I pleaded, "you don't have to waste your money on this. I'll be okay." The lump ached in my throat. "Really."

He put the car in park and let go a deep sigh. "Sometimes in life we are faced with things bigger than ourselves and can't work it out on our own." Mist sparkled along his blues when he gazed at me. "I admit that I'm not the first to know how to meet those needs, your mother being the best at it. We both feel this is the best thing. I'll be waiting for you on the couch."

I stared at him, speechless.

"Okay, let's go in." He turned the car off and walked around to open my door.

I sat there, stunned. My thoughts struggled for cohesiveness and I still couldn't think as fear crippled me. "Please, Dad, no," I whispered, letting the tears fall, but he didn't hear me. The air grew thicker, my feet experienced every vibrating step I took, and my breaths slowed.

I watched Dad as he opened the glass office door, holding it for me to pass through. I bowed my head, and walked in. The office was clean, tidy, sterile. The gold plaque read "Dr. Roberts". I frowned. I'd only met with him a few times after Wesley had died, as did Mom. Jules and Robert saw him once, and Dad, none.

Again, I glanced at Dad, but saw no mercy there. His face remained stern. The black clock with gold letters ticked too loudly for my liking. Every passing second frazzled my nerves, and I imagined my arm hair standing on end. Finally, the doorknob clicked and I jumped with a gasp.

"Jessica Landon?" An old man with moon glasses peered over at me with sparkling, grey eyes.

I gave him a weak smile and wobbled to my feet. He was going to see right through you. He was going to know what you're hiding. He was going to coax the truth from you. He was going to tell Dad. And I was going to die . . .

"Go ahead and sit where you'd like." He closed the door after me. His office was just as sterile as the waiting room. Just like I remembered. "Tell me." He gave me a warm smile and brought out his clipboard. "How are you doing?"

I stared at him, then blinked. "What?" Whatever happened to Tell me about your problems?

A warm smile crinkled his face. "How are you doing? How's your family coping with Wesley's passing?"

My throat locked and silent tears ran down my cheeks. Oh, how I wanted to tell him, but the anguish of losing my baby brother grew fresh all over again. He made this easy. "I'm—I'm trying very hard to keep my head up. I find myself crying every second I get. I—." Tears made it impossible, so I wiped them. He offered me a tissue and I laughed. "Drowning only makes me realize just how vulnerable I am and I'm scared."

I was about to bite my lip, then remembered he'd recognize that as a lie. Well, a partial truth. It was true, but those weren't the reasons why I was struggling. I lifted my face and stared at him right in the eye. I'm pregnant! I screamed inside. Can't you see that I'm lying? I'm pregnant!

He held my gaze for few minutes, his pen scribbling without looking. I was amazed at his talent. "Near death experiences does do strange things to us, I know. Do you feel loved at home?"

Again, he stunted me. Do I feel loved at home? Do I? My gaze fluttered to my hands and I clamped them together. I thought of Mom and how she showed how much she cared. Though Dad wasn't soft around the edges, he loved me. I know he did. As for my brothers, well, they were just brothers.

"Do you feel safe? As if you have someone to turn to anytime you feel broken on the inside?"

"I." I blinked, squeezing the rest of the tears out. "I do. Mom, and Jules. They're very good." I lifted my eyes to meet his and nodded with a sniffle.

He leaned back, lowering his paperwork to the little table at his knees. "I'm glad to hear that. Do you feel like they're there for you?"

On his questions went before he had me share what my emotions had been like. He said it was perfectly normal to feel grief after a traumatic event like my near-drowning. I assured him that I would set another visit if I found myself sinking. That's when he gave a prescription for my depression along with some tools to empower me, tools that I doubted I could apply because my real reason for despair was being pregnant.