Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 45

“The psychologist said she’s making some headway.  She’s convinced that something happened to her, some trauma.  The waiting’s the hardest part.”

“I bet.  I hope she’s able to help.”

“Me, too.”  After taking another drag off my cigarette, I spit out what had been near the edge of my mind.  “And I have a date Friday night.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Sarah’s counselor at the middle school.”

“Oh, yeah.  Kevin something.”  As he leaned over, crushing out the butt in the ashtray, he asked, “A real date or time to talk about Sarah?”

“We’ve already done that.  I think this is the real deal.”

“Hmm.”  For a while, Justin was quiet, making me think maybe the tables were turned.  Maybe Justin was feeling how I’d felt Friday night when he brought Chelsea into my territory and rubbed my nose in it.

But I doubted it enough that I had no confidence about showing my hand, so to speak, and I wasn’t going to say a word.

Justin said, “So what are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“On this date—what are you doing?”

“Dinner.”

“Try to have fun then.”

Did he even mean it?  “Yeah.  That’s the plan.”  As I extinguished my cigarette, I felt more uncomfortable than I ever had with Justin.  Talking about another man with the only man I wanted didn’t feel right.  “I’d better get home.”

“Yeah.  Me, too.  Thanks for the smoke.”

I half expected a kiss after all that…but I got nothing.  Not completely surprising.

For some reason, though, as he closed the door to my van and waved, I felt like maybe I had, for the first time, real closure with Justin.  And that was a good thing—but I still couldn’t stop crying as I drove home on that cold night.

* * *

On Wednesday, my daughter gave me a reminder that she continued to struggle.  I got a call from the school secretary again, telling me I needed to pick Sarah up.  When I got there, I spoke with Kevin who told me there would be no suspension this time, but she needed the afternoon to cool off.

“What happened?”  I tried not to sound too upset, since Sarah was sitting right there.  She, of course, didn’t look up at me.

Kevin said, “It’s not like last time, but Mrs. Owen, her teacher, was asking her for an answer and when Sarah got upset, she started throwing her papers and books to the floor.”  As if apologizing, he added, “It’s just for the day, just to give her time to settle.”

It wasn’t like I could argue the decision, so I thanked him and we left.  Once Sarah and I were in the van and started heading home, I said, “So tell me what happened, honey.”  She was looking out of the passenger side window, so I couldn’t tell if she was intentionally ignoring me or just wasn’t paying attention.  “Sarah?”

My daughter made a noise like a grunt, half turning her head toward me.

“I’m asking you what happened today.  Were you throwing your papers in the classroom?”

“Mrs. Owen wouldn’t leave me alone.  She kept asking me the same question over and over and I didn’t know the answer.”  I nodded as I pulled up to the stoplight, glancing over at my daughter.  She finally made eye contact with me as she continued speaking.  “She made me feel stupid.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

The next day, however, I asked for a few minutes with the psychologist, and I let her know about the previous day’s occurrences.  Maybe I was hoping it would light a fire under her, because it felt like nothing was happening.

Rebecca, however, saw it as promising.  “This is good, Randi.  Sarah is letting out her frustration and anger instead of bottling it up.  It indicates that she’s working through her emotions.  We’re making progress.”

But as I sat in the quiet waiting room, trying like hell to absorb my notes for an upcoming history exam, I instead let Rebecca’s words echo in my head.  Were we really helping my daughter?

Or was she getting worse?

I needed someone to talk to.  I wanted my best friend.  So, at school that night, I actively sought Justin out—but he was nowhere to be found.  Even as I made that silent walk back to my van, I kept thinking I might see him waiting there like last time.

When I saw that he wasn’t at my van, quiet tears dropped down my cheeks and I knew that I’d fucked up.  I’d overplayed my hand.  Before now, notch on Justin’s bedpost or not, at least he was there to listen, really listen, and sometimes give me advice.

Now, I didn’t even have that.

This date with Kevin had better be worth losing my best friend.  It had damn well better.