“What are you reading?” I ask her, startling her. She jumps and I feel bad. “Sorry,” I mumble as I roll onto my side to face her.
“Another romance novel,” she says quickly before I lose her in the pages of her book again.
“Any you’d recommend?”
“There’s an entire stack over there that I’ve finished.” She nods her head toward her dresser. “The ones on the right are available. Help yourself.” I sit up groggily and eye the stack of books.
“Thanks. I’ll take a look.” I stretch my arms above my head and yawn, finally dragging myself out of bed. “Day two,” I whisper to myself and grab my clothes and toiletries to get ready for the day.
The rest of the week is uneventful, more of the individual therapy, group therapy, medical check-ins, drug screens, quiet time, journaling, and eating. I never look at the scale when they weigh me, but the staff doctor is happy with the progress that he’s seeing. I’ve noticed my skin and hair are beginning to look healthier and, every day, my clothes fit just a little differently. Landon and my mom are coming today, which has me in a great mood and nervous all at the same time. I always seem to be a jumble of emotions.
There is a lot of down time at rehab and I find myself getting lonely quite easily. I’ve been trying to get to know Samantha more, but she’s more interested in her books than socializing with me, so I spend a good deal of my time journaling and making lists. Lists of things I need to do, people I need to see, and places I must visit.
Time seems to stand still as I wait for Landon and my mom to arrive. While I wait in the lounge for word of their arrival, I’m conflicted. I’m excited to see them and nervous as hell for family therapy—our family is the poster family for “fucked up.” I’m pulled from my thoughts when Samantha pops her head into the lounge to let me know I have visitors in the reception area. I nearly sprint down the long hall, where I see Landon standing, leaning against the reception desk. They’re still searching my mom’s purse when Landon turns to see me coming. I jump into his arms and he pulls me in for a tight hug.
“Linds,” he says, squeezing the air from my lungs. Finally setting me down, he smiles at me while tousling my hair. “You’re looking good, kiddo.”
“Thanks. I’m feeling really good.”
They’re still pulling crap out of my mom’s purse in search of anything she might be trying to smuggle in. Landon laughs and pulls me aside. “They do a better search here than we do at the police department,” he jokes and wraps his arm around my shoulder as we wait for them to clear my mom. Haphazardly throwing her belongings back into her giant handbag, she rushes over to me and pulls me into an embrace. While she hugs me, her hand rubs gently up and down my back in a comforting motion. This is the first time I remember her ever comforting me. My therapist, David, arrives, interrupting our little reunion , and he guides us down the hall to his office, where there are three chairs set up in a semi-circle. His chair is centered in front of our chairs so he can lead the discussion.
Landon flashes me an uncomfortable look, but we all sit down and turn our attention to David. David cuts right to the chase. We have an hour session scheduled and he’s not about to waste a minute of that time. “Josie. Landon,” he acknowledges both of them. “Thank you for agreeing to meet. I believe that the family therapy is going to be a critical piece of Lindsay’s recovery,” he begins. “Lindsay has given me some background, from her perspective, of what her childhood was like.” He pauses and looks at the notebook placed on his lap before he continues. “But I’d like her to share with both of you what she shared with me.”
I blink back the tears that are stinging my eyes and swallow hard against my dry throat. Landon shifts in his chair and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs, his head cast downward towards his feet, and his hands pressed together. The muscles in his forearms flex as he presses his hands together. My mom sits eerily still, her body turned slightly in my direction and her attention focused solely on me. With a deep breath, I start from the beginning. Not skipping out on details, or feelings, I explain to my mom that her abandoning Landon and me when we were nothing short of toddlers will always have a lifelong effect on me.#p#分页标题#e#
I cry when I look at Landon, my big brother, and tell him how I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s not only my brother, but he was my mother, my father—he was everything to me—he raised me. Everyone in the room listens quietly, with no anger or judgment and it allows me just to bleed the resentment, the hurt, and the sadness I’ve been holding on to for over twenty years. I had forgiven my mother a long time ago, but I never communicated to her what her leaving really did to me.