BEAU (original version)| ✓

58

• CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT•
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"So, how would you say your relationship with everyone is?"

I tap my fingers on the armrest of the sofa as my eyes gaze at a knock-off painting of Vincent Van Gogh's The Starry Night. "The pieces are coming together. I think I'm...comfortable."

O'Neil doesn't immediately respond. From what I've picked up in these sessions, he is serious and straight to the point. We don't stall on the meaningless conversation or beat around the bush when it comes to discussing my shortcomings. He gives it to me as it is since our first meetings. I'm grieving, I'm lost, I'm hopeless, I need support -- he makes me repeat those things at the start of each appointment as a base for me to start building. Thankfully, it's helped. I know who I am and I know the amount of work I have to do.

"But Eliot and Anna are getting a divorce," I say. "I guess she's had enough of his lies."

He stops writing and his brown eyes shoot up at me. "Are you happy about that?"

Am I happy? It means he's finally getting what was coming his way. It means he won't get away with hurting so many people, be it intentionally or not.

"He deserves it. My dad fucked up big time, and this is just karma." I stop tapping my fingers then clasp my hands in my lap. "And no, I don't feel bad that he's suffering. It's his turn now."

O'Neil cracks a small smirk, "You're a villain."

"Pardon me?"

It's the only time I've seen my therapist display any sort of emotion. His cold exterior chips away, replaced by amusement. "You're a villain in your own story, Beau. You've made yourself out to be that way since your father left. No matter, you're a winning villain, which is exceptionally rare."

Nothing he tells me makes any sense, but I nod like his words resonate because I have no response. I've never considered myself any sort of villain or hero. Now that he mentions it, I guess it's opened my perspective a bit more.

"Do you feel sorry for Eliot, even in the slightest?" he asks again.

I stare at the grey wall behind him. "No...I can't say that I do."

My therapist shakes his head with a light chuckle escaping his lips. "And this girl you told me about. How is she?"

As soon as I register that he's talking about Kendra, every other thought falls short and her smiling face flashes in front of my eyes. The pit of my stomach whirrs, but in a pleasing way. "Kendra's okay. I'm supposed to see her today, actually."

"Is she easy to talk to?"

"Absolutely," I reply, "she's my whole world, no matter how cheesy that sounds."

O'Neil grins like he understands, and I catch a glimpse of the silver wedding band on his left hand. "There's nothing in this life that says we can't depend on other people. Love is endless," he grins. "No matter how cheesy that sounds."

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"I'm staying overnight, so can you pick me up tomorrow evening?"

My father is apparently too distracted by the voices in his head to offer me an answer. His eyes look everywhere except me, no doubt figuring out what he's going to do once I'm gone. He isn't welcome in Anna's home. I'm not there. Marc is with my step-siblings. It's just him. Momentarily, I feel guilt grow inside me at my earlier confession that I don't pity him.

"Papa..."

Eliot snaps out of his reverie and pins me under his bleak gaze. "Yes, Beau?"

"I asked if you can pick me up tomorrow."