Find a Penny, Pick Her Up

Chapter 7

It was that Friday morning when another part of my life decided to implode.

 I bounded down the steps, my white sneakers slapping against the wood. I made my way through the dimly lit hallway and into the kitchen. It was growing bright, the sun rising and peaking through the white flowy curtains above the sink. The window was open ajar, a breeze drifting through and ruffling the stillness. I grabbed a cup out of the cupboard, beginning to fill it with water from the fridge. Some of the bills slid across the granite-topped island, my mom rushing to collect them. 

"Penny," she started, stacking them. "Your dad and I wanted to talk to you before you went to school." 

I shut my eyes for a moment, just wanting to have gotten through the morning peacefully and without a questioning. If only mom had adopted this method as much as dad had; he knew when and when not to bother me. We were close like that. Mom, on the other hand, clearly did not get the memo. 

The water suddenly overflowed the glass cup in my hand, spilling onto my hand. I sighed dramatically, moving to dry it up. 

"Penelope? Did you hear me?" 

"Yes, Mom," I said, wiping my hands off and turning to her. "Where's dad?" 

"In the-"

"right here," the man himself stepped through the garage door, smiling at the both of us. "How are my girls this morning?" 

"Good," I gave him a smile, hoping he'd buy it. He usually did. I watched him kiss mom on the cheek. 

"Daniel, remember how we wanted to talk to Penny?" This was usually how her questions went - questions directed at my dad so maybe he could look like the bad guy for once. 

My dad reached into the fridge, pulling out the orange juice. He nodded at me, "Sit down for a sec." 

"I have to go to school," I said. Please, let me just go to school where I can disappear in a whole other way. 

But he only let out a short whistle, pointing to the high chair sitting at the island. I sat, knowing there was no way out of this. 

The setup was something I was used to seeing; mom, dad, sitting in front of me, preparing to have a conversation about my wellbeing. Mom's hands were usually folded at her help, her posture rigid. Dad at least tried to appear more casual, with his shoulders lopsided, head tilted, and one leg bent over his knee. 

"How did that tour go? With the boy?" Tour? Hampton? What does he have to do with this? And that was more than a week ago. 

I made a face, shrugging. "Fine. It went fine." 

"Was he nice?" she was prying, her eyes trained on mine. 

I looked back and forth between the both of them. "Just tell me what you really want to talk about." It was quiet for a little bit, until mom's hard gaze flicked to dad. He took a breath. 

"We've been talking," he started, scratching his head. Uh oh. Was I about to be shipped away? Or maybe, they finally decided to let me homeschool. I smiled a tiny smile to myself, knowing it was that. Perfect. "and we think you should start seeing Dr. Yao again." 

My face fell, "What?" 

"We never should have stopped in the first place, and we think you were making progress when you were with her." Dr. Yao. The therapist. I got her almost immediately after the incident, and yeah she may have lightened the load a bit, but she could never erase that night. No one could. It was going to follow me for the rest of my life.  

"What is going to make you guys understand that I am fine?" My voice was raising, anger boiling. 

"Lower your voice, young lady," Mom said, her tone border-lining an octave where she'd lose it. She glanced at the open window. Oh, but of course. So the neighbors didn't hear the crazy girl yelling. Still, mom would do anything to keep the perfection. It was humorous, really.