Family Ties (11 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Damian’s house is packed. Linkin Park blares through the speakers in the living room and a game of Spin the Bottle is set up in the far corner. We press through the crowd, searching for Damian and Arissa. I spot Arissa waving furiously for my attention through the sliding glass door. I tap Jason on the shoulder and point outside.

Damian vacates his chair, gesturing for me to sit when we join them.

I lean over to Arissa. “Who are all these people?”

“Teammates, their girlfriends, and some friends not on the team.” She takes a swig of her drink.

“Parker, do you want a drink?”

“Yeah. Whatever they have,” I answer.

“Arissa! Who is your friend?” a burly blond asks after Damian and Jason leave.

“Rick, this is my best friend, Sara. Sara, Rick,” Arissa introduces us. “He’s one of Damian’s friends.”

“Dance with me, Sara!” He offers me his hand.

“No, thanks.” I give him a small smile to be polite.

“Come on,” he goads, yanking me out of the chair before I can pull away.

I step back off balance. “I’m flattered, but I don’t want to.”

He closes the short distance between us in one step, wraps his arms around me, and swings me around with my arms caught in his. I catch a whiff of bitter beer on his breath and turn my head away. My heart hammers, demanding freedom. “
Put me down!
” My breath quickens and my head is like a helium-filled balloon straining to escape. I want out. I want out
now
.

Arissa grabs Rick’s shoulder to stop him, but he keeps spinning. “Put her down, Rick!”

Rick sets me on my feet and I stumble to the side. He dips me down, keeping me disoriented.

“Let me go!” I scream as my chest heaves and I push him against him to no avail.

“I think you’re liking this.” A drunken smile plasters his face.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think that!” 

He brings me up, gazing at me with glazed, gray-brown eyes. My skin prickles, like ants crawling under the surface. I attempt to push away again, but he cinches his hold. My head bobs while darkness creeps into the periphery of my vision.

“Let her go, Rick,” Damian says, behind me.

“Oh, come on D. I’m just looking for a date.”

“Not her. Go find another girl.” 

An arm snakes around me, hauling me out of Rick’s hold in a blur. Before I get my bearings, Damian nudges me behind him. I shake off the darkness, clutching his shirt to steady myself. Arissa hugs me as I peek around Damian and even my ragged breath.

“What part of ‘let me go’ don’t you fucking understand?” Jason demands in a tone I’ve never heard from him before.

“I wasn’t doing anything, man,” Rick says as if he truly believes he is innocent. “She’s too fucking frigid for my taste anyway.”

“You don’t know a fucking thing about her!” Jason shoves Rick’s chest with both hands.

“Jason!” I call out in shock, squeezing Damian’s shoulders before he bolts from my grip.

Rick stutter steps backwards to keep his balance and Damian rushes between the two with the palm of his hand on Jason’s chest. I pry myself away from Arissa and run to Jason.

His body is rigid when I grab his arm. His head cocks towards me with a clenched jaw and dark eyes. His body loosens as he draws me to him, kissing my head. I nestle against him, my arms circling his waist.

“Why don’t you call it a night, Rick?” Damian asks, sounding more like a suggestion.

“And let
her
ruin the fun I was having?”

“Go have fun elsewhere. You’re done here tonight.”

“You’re sticking up for that cunt?”

Damian’s fist flashes to Rick’s face, his head tossing back upon impact. Football players swarm Rick and carry him away without giving him a chance to recover. Jason, Damian, and Arissa ask me simultaneously if I’m all right and talk over each other.

“Stop,” I plead, pressing into Jason to calm the wracking of my body. “You’re making my head spin.”

“I’m sorry,” Damian apologizes. “I thought he’d be on his best behavior tonight. I was wrong.”

“Take me home, please,” I say to Jason. I know it means missing out on a normal teenage experience. I also know there will be more to go to. Right now, I need out of here.

He keeps a tight grip on my hand on the way home, as if he might lose me if he loosened it. “I’m sorry, Parker.”

“It’s not your fault, J. He should have left me alone.”

“I should have stayed with you,” he says. 

“Are you going stay with me twenty-four seven to protect me?”  

“There’s an idea.” A roguish grin appears and the tension thins out.

My lips curl into a wisp of a smirk, then return to a serious line. “You might be able to protect me from others, but you can’t protect me from my past,” I pause for a breath. “It felt like my father all over again.” 

“I want to. I want to protect you from the monsters in your closet and under your bed.”

My chest wells and I finally know what it means to cry tears of joy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The sandtray is in the middle of Sam’s office when I arrive.

“Sara, I want you to go to the toy baskets and pick out figures to represent your biological family and the Jerichos,” she directs.

I choose one of Cinderella’s step-sisters for Victoria; a black, one-eyed monster with claws for my father; an old witch for my mother; and a small, plain family set for Rose, Andrew and Arissa. I lay them on the floor next to the sandtray.

Sam peruses my choices then asks, “What about you?”

“What about me?” I ask, confused.

“You didn’t pick one out for you.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.” How stupid of me. Of course I was supposed to.

She smiles, putting me at ease. “Go pick one for you.”

I return to the baskets, digging through each of them before settling on a mouse. I take it back and lay it next to the others.

“I would like you to put yourself and your biological family in the tray. Feel free to get any other toys to add to the tray.”

I place a car in a corner with Victoria and my mother with purses and shopping bags. I put myself in the opposite corner with dishes, a lawn mower, and a vacuum. I set my father in a chair in front of the TV in the middle of the tray.

“Is there anything else you want to add?”

I shake my head.

“Okay. You can add anything else you want as you work. I would like you to show me how your family got along.”

I am quiet while using the chosen toys. The mouse tidies up the box as the step-sister and witch shop, and the monster sits on his chair, watching TV and drinking.

“What happens when the witch and step-sister come home?” Sam asks.

I add a table and chairs, then set the table to play out a normal day in the Parker house, leaving out my father raping me. 

“May I take a picture of this?” she asks.

I nod.

Sam takes pictures from different angles with a digital camera.  “Now, I would like you to do the same for the Jerichos.”

I remove the step-sister, witch, and monster, then rearrange the furniture. I add the family set of dolls I chose for the Jerichos and demonstrate a day in their home.  

Sam takes more pictures.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“I went with Jason to Damian’s party over the weekend and one of Damian’s friends wouldn’t leave me alone.” I describe the incident in detail to her, including my decision to leave.

“Sara, it is
normal
for people who were traumatized to relive it or have flashes of it when something triggers a memory. The smell of the beer and Rick manhandling you were triggers at the party. They may not be the same each time and you may go years between them. You did the right thing in asking Jason to take you home.”

I barely know Sam, but her reassurance is a soothing balm.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

My legs bounce up and down while waiting for Sam. Rose rests her hand over mine and smiles. The bouncing stops and the finger tapping begins.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” Andrew inquires, covering my hand with his.

My eyes dart about the room as I rock back and forth in my chair. “Mhm,” I reply. 

“Positive?” Rose asks.

“Positive,” I answer, jumping up and dashing by Sam as her door opens.

“Good afternoon, Sara.”

“Hi, Sam.” I pick out a small squishy ball from one of her many toy baskets and compress it in my hand repeatedly as I sit in one of the chairs.

Sam shakes Andrew and Rose’s hands before they take seats on either side of me and Sam takes the remaining empty chair.

“I would like to start by telling you two that Sara is doing good work in sessions. We can expect a lot of changes from her. Good changes.”

I wear a confused look.

Sam smiles warmly at me. “What I mean by that Sara, is that you’ll start to feel more at home in your new home.”

“Oh.” I toss the ball back and forth in my hands.

“Sara,” Rose says, “please stop.”

“It’s okay, Rose,” Sam interjects. “That is one of the things I want to talk to you about. Does Sara do these repetitive movements at home?”

“Yes,” Andrew replies. “She was fidgeting more than usual in the waiting room.” 

“She does the same in here. I let her use something to keep her hands busy. That way, she isn’t rocking, tapping or bouncing. Things that are a little more distracting for us to watch or hear.”

Rose and Andrew glance at each other then focus back on Sam.

“Sara, would you be able to tell them what you are thinking or feeling when you rock, tap, and bounce?”

“Nervous.”

“Nervous?” Rose asks. “About what?” 

I sink in the chair, inch by inch. Great, they aren’t going to want me anymore. Then where will I go?

“Rose,” Sam addresses her, calm and even, “it is important that you listen to what Sara has to say with an open mind and without judgment. Go ahead, Sara.”

I slouch, squeezing the ball rapidly. “I get nervous about when everything will change and I move back with my parents. I worry about not being good enough or not doing enough to help out.”

Sam leans forward, encouraging the eye contact I give her. “Thank you for sharing that.” She sits back and shifts glances between Rose and Andrew. “Does Sara ever talk about her nightmares?”

“No,” Rose says. “Most of the time she doesn’t even tell us when she had one. We can only guess when she did by the circles under her eyes in the morning. When we ask, she still doesn’t tell us.”

Because my nightmares are of my father raping me without end. I won’t even tell Sam about them, no matter how much she asks.

“Does she startle easily?”

“Yes,” Andrew answers. “It takes a long time before she settles. We noticed it the first time we met her.”

Sam nods in acknowledgment, then pulls out the pictures she took of the sandtray from the file in her lap. She holds up a picture in each hand, waving one. “This is what Sara did in the sandtray when I asked her to show me how the Parker family relates to each other.”

Rose and Andrew scoot to the edge of their chairs for a closer look. They move back when they finish studying the picture and each put an arm around me without saying a word.

Sam holds out the second picture. “This is what Sara did when I asked her to show me how your family relates to each other.”

“I thought you liked living with us,” Rose says, a hint of a question behind it as she turns to me.

“I do. But I feel like I don’t fit. Like it’s not normal.”

“What’s not normal?” Andrew asks.

“May I answer that, Sara?” Sam asks.

I dip my head in consent.

Sam holds up the first picture again. “This is normal to Sara. This is what she experienced day after day for years until she came to live with you. To you two, it may look like complete chaos, but this is all she knew. She knew what to expect and how to navigate through her day with order.” She switches pictures. “All of a sudden, she is experiencing this, day after day. To you, it is ordered and normal. Sara never knew this before. To her,
this
is chaos and she has trouble with finding order and normality.”

“But we couldn’t leave her there for Simon to beat her once we knew,” Rose states, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I’m not saying what you did was wrong,” Sam says, keeping her voice light. “I’m saying she’s gone through years of abuse and it takes time to heal from that kind of trauma. As tumultuous as her life appeared with the Parkers, she had control through her routines and rules, whether they make sense to us or not.

“Rigidity is common in addicted families. Rules are imposed for the illusion of stability while she was thrust into the role of the Lost Child, forgotten by her parents while they fawned over her sister. The Lost Child is typically withdrawn, quiet, and distant while feeling angry and hurt. They tend to behave in an apathetic manner as they distance themselves from their pain.

“The majority of the adult responsibilities were thrust on Sara, forcing her in an adult role at the same time. The combination of her roles with the rigidity results in a lack of emotional growth, so her coping skills may come off as immature or petulant. This is compounded by the fact that her parents were, what we call, ‘underresponsible’ for meeting her emotional needs. 

“Right now, she needs to feel like she’s in control of something.”

I turn to Rose. “I’m glad I live with you, Andrew, and Riss now. You saved me. I just can’t stand not being able to do something like the dishes or clearing the table.” 

“Does Sara have any chores in your home?” Sam asks.

“No. We know how much Simon and Tibby made her do and we want her to enjoy what’s left of her youth,” Andrew explains.

“I think Sara is old enough that it would be okay for her to be responsible for a few things like helping in the kitchen.”

“That sounds reasonable. Would that make you feel more at home, Sara?” Andrew asks.

“Yes,” I answer, sliding back up in the chair.

We agree that I’ll do the dishes and Arissa will set the table and clear it to start off. Rose snickers. “Arissa isn’t going to like this.”

I join Rose in her laughter. “She’ll get over it. She always does. She just has to be dramatic about it first.”

Sam helps us identify verbal and non-verbal cues Rose and Andrew can use when they notice my anxiety increasing without calling attention to it.