Proving Webster Wrong

Chapter Thirteen -- Chloe

"Maybe it's just because she's worried about you." She bent over and rested her elbows on the knees, leaning closer to me. I leaned back on instinct. "You always tell me that she is just like you, but in denial. Maybe she's not in denial about her issues, but rather that she will ever be able to get help. Maybe she's just doing everything she knows how to make sure that you don't end up like her."

When I was eleven years old Alex was only somewhere around a year old. She was in that stage where she wanted to get into everything and at four so was Melanie. They went into my room and made a mess, destroying all of the work I had put into organizing my things. I freaked out, which was normal. But then I freaked out more than normal. I locked my door for the three hours it took to get everything fixed. When I came out I went around fixing everything in the house, organizing it how I wanted it.

I screamed at anyone that tried to stop me. The whole time I counted to sixteen over and over.

That was the day Mom went on a search for a doctor. And when my melt down was finished she pulled me into a hug and whispered in my ear, "please don't ever become me."

I didn't understand what she meant because I had never seen her do anything like that. The things she did always made sense to me, even if they didn't make sense to anyone else.

"Maybe," I finally answered. "But that doesn't give her an excuse to be so hypocritical. If she wants me to get better then she should be doing the same." Even though I understood what Dr. Evans was saying and that my reply went completely against that I couldn't get that idea out of my head.

"Chloe, you say that everyday. Are you ever really going to confront your mom about this?" She was leaning so close now I expected her to fall out of her chair.

"Yes, I think. And when I do I know..." I couldn't finish. And what would happen? She wouldn't believe me? Pigs would fly? "And she'll be just as scared as I am," I finally finished.

Maybe that was what it was. Mom had gone so long, spent so much time in her bubble, hiding from her fears that she couldn't find the strength to face them. I was still young so she thought I had the strength that she didn't. It may have been hypocritical but I understood. "She'll be terrified but I think she'll see that we can get through it together," I said aloud without meaning to. We would get through it just like we used to get through having the rest of the family against us.

"Chloe, sometimes OCD is passed down by children observing and picking up their parent's habits. Some thing that there may be a genetic reason in there too. I think with you things are mostly observation. Like the finger twisting. Does your mom ever twist a ring like that?"

I looked down at my hands, noticing for the first time how much like my mother's they looked. I could picture her wedding band and engagement ring on my own finger. I could picture the way she always twisted them around when she was nervous or excited or thinking or just bored.

I nodded and yawned, no hand coming up to my mouth. At that moment I wanted to call my mom and tell her everything that had just happened. To tell her everything would be okay but there was somethings we needed to talk about. My eyes and throat were sore from fighting against crying so much today, but no matter how much I relaxed and told myself to go ahead the tears wouldn't come. I hadn't cried in so long it was like my eyes were stopped up.

When the hour was up and I walked back into the waiting area Andrew practically jumped out of his seat. I had tried to tell him but he never listened.

"Are you regretting not finding something else to do?" I asked him. The bell sounded as he opened the door.

"I can't say waiting was fun, but I wasn't going to just abandon you like that."

"I know." And I did know. He hadn't abandoned me at the train tunnel that day even when it would have been so easy to follow the other kids and I knew he wasn't going to abandon me now.

The one time he had didn't count.

Andrew was too good of a friend, too nice of a guy. Crystal had never deserved him. That was why I told myself I would do everything I could to never treat him like that. It didn't matter if he was just a friend, he still deserved to be treated like the good guy he was.

"Andrew?" I asked as we walked to the truck.

"Yes?" He didn't just keep walking like a person normally would. He stopped and turned to face me.

"I think I really need a hug right now." I looked down at my feet. So much had happened today and I didn't know what to do.

And then he wasn't the shy preacher's kid that thought he could never do anything right. Or the boy that was afraid to touch the girl that used to be his best friend. He wrapped his arms around me in the best hug I'd had in a long time.

I didn't hesitate at all. I hugged him back