Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 18
Sarah maintained eye contact but seemed reluctant to speak. I felt myself growing even more nervous but I knew this might be the way we’d get to the bottom of my child’s problems. For all I knew, she was developing some sort of mental illness that could be managed with medication or therapy. After giving a slow, short nod, Sarah said, “I go to Roosevelt Middle School.”
And, of course, Rebecca started writing on her pad again.
“What grade?”
“Sixth.”
“Tell me about your friends.”
“I haven’t made any friends at my new school.”
More writing—but no judgment. “What about your old school?”
“Yeah. I had some friends.”
“Do any of them go to your new school?”
“Yeah. But we don’t have any classes together.”
“Do you still hang out with them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know.”
Pausing, Rebecca jotted more in her pad. “Do you get along with them?”
“Yeah.”
“Have you just grown apart?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just don’t have the same interests anymore?”
“I guess.”
“So…tell me what you do for fun.”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca looked Sarah in the eyes—but her tone wasn’t like an interrogator. She was kind and gentle. “Do you find anything fun?”
“I guess.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…video games, TV.”
Jesus. As if I hadn’t already sounded like the world’s worst mother, now it was confirmed, because it sounded like I let the television do the babysitting.
“Anything else?”
“Not really.”
“What about your brother? Do you get along with him?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Do the two of you fight, argue?”
“We used to. Not a lot anymore.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t bug me anymore.”
“How did he used to bug you?”
Sarah hadn’t spoken this much in months, maybe a year, so I, too, was listening for clues in her words. “He used to get into my stuff all the time.”
“Give me an example.”
“He would go in my room when I was at school and draw on my papers or mess with my toys.”
“So he stopped doing that?”
“Yeah. He’s in school now, too, so I’m home if he goes in my room.”
Rebecca jotted on the pad again. “Are you upset that you’re missing school today?”
“Not really.”
“Do you like school?”
“It’s okay.”
“Did you used to like school?”
“Yeah.”
“What changed?”
And there it was: The stone wall of silence. Sarah frowned and I hadn’t noticed until now that she hadn’t been looking at Rebecca; instead, she’d been glancing in her direction—but her eyes were focused on the coffee table.
Finally, with a soft voice, Rebecca prompted, “Did something change?”
Sarah actually looked up for a moment before focusing on her lap—and when it became evident that my child had no plans to answer that question, Rebecca turned to me again. “On your paperwork, you wrote that you’re concerned because Sarah has been displaying some behaviors at school that reflect poor choices. You also said you noticed this change within the last year, right?”
I gave her a simple nod.
“Sarah, do you ever feel happy?”
“Not really.”
Oh, God. Now this was starting to hurt—but the last thing my daughter needed was for her mom to lose her shit. I didn’t want an emotional reaction from me to cause her to clam up more—especially now that she was talking.
“Did you used to feel happy?” Instead of answering verbally, Sarah nodded. “Do you feel sad now?” This time, she shrugged but still said nothing. “Do you feel depressed?”
“I guess.”
“Would you like to return to school at some point?”
“I don’t care.”
All of a sudden, Rebecca switched to me again. “What are your specific concerns about Sarah?”
Jesus, lady, where should I start? I wanted to scream, you’re seeing it! Instead, I took a deep breath and tried to answer her matter-of-factly. “Well, she used to be bubbly and happy, always smiling and laughing. She used to be active and do things like talk with her friends on the phone, play with her brother. She used to play outside until dark. She’d sit at the table and draw pictures. She smiled and laughed. Now she acts depressed and quiet. She keeps to herself most of the time, spending a lot of time in her room. She hardly ever talks, and she never laughs.”
Shit. I hated saying all that in front of her, but it was true.
Finally, Rebecca addressed my daughter again. “Sarah, do you have any concerns?”
“About what?”
“What you’re doing here.”
“It’s kinda freaky…but mom said you’d help me.”
“Do you feel like you need help?”
Once more, Sarah averted her eyes, looking down at her knees. “I don’t know.”
Rebecca inhaled sharply but spoke sweetly. “Sarah, would you mind if I talked to your mother in private for a moment?” Without a word, Sarah started to stand, but Rebecca said, “No, that’s okay. You stay here. We’ll just go in the hall, okay?”
I followed Rebecca out the door, curious as hell what she wanted to say now after our honesty-fest. What was it that she didn’t want to say in front of my daughter? She kept her voice low but I was able to take in every word. “Just from what little time we’ve spent together, I’m fairly certain the problem has something to do with school. But she just changed schools this year, right? When she started middle school?”
“Yes.”
“When exactly did you notice a behavior shift?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe right after Christmas? Or maybe spring break? Definitely by the end of the school year.”
“So whatever triggered this behavior probably happened last year and may be continuing. Whatever the case, I need Sarah to develop some trust with me. I need her to know that she’s safe here. Maybe for this session and the next, I’ll have you in there, mainly so she knows she’s safe. Once I sense she feels comfortable, I’m going to remove you from the equation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll have you start