Unraveling Isobel (20 page)

I leaned my head back so I was looking at the ceiling. “This conversation hurts my brain.”

“Then we're making progress,” Dr. Mike said, sounding way
too perky about it. “You say your mom is worried that you're developing a mental illness, but what I want to tackle is if you are worried about it.”

I shrugged, my shoulders feeling tight. I swallowed to keep from bursting into tears. That was the issue. It didn't matter what Dick or my mom thought. What really freaked me out was the idea that I thought I might be crazy.

“You don't need to answer. We'll take some small steps together. I'd like to encourage you to reach out to your dad as a place to start. You could write him a letter or give him a call. It would be good for you to talk.”

“About what?”

“That's up to you.”

“I don't really have anything to say to him.”

“Maybe it's time you did. Ask him about his experiences, ask him how his life is going, how he copes with managing his illness. Now, let's get down to your homework for our next meeting.”

“There's homework?” I sat up straight. “I'm already under a lot of pressure at school. Are you sure you should be putting more on my shoulders? I could snap. I have to think that wouldn't look good for you. Could you live with the guilt?”

“I'll do the best I can. Don't worry, this homework doesn't require you to write a paper. One of the things I heard you say when you talked about your own health is that you feel out of control.”

“Well, yeah. How does someone beat genetics? It's like
wishing you had control over blue eyes. If I have this condition, there's nothing I can do.”

“Research tells us that people who feel a sense of control over their lives express greater levels of happiness. I want you to identify an aspect of your life that currently feels like it is happening
to
you and turn it around so you're in control. You've been dealing with a lot of changes recently; it'll be good for you to tackle one of them and be in control of it.”

“Like what?”

“That's up to you.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Can't you just give me a test or something and tell me if I'm crazy? Maybe have me look at an inkblot and tell you what I see.”

“I'm afraid it isn't that easy. I'm not going to make any snap judgments, and neither are you. We're going to talk and discover things together. You're not alone in this, Isobel.”

“Of course not, I've got all those other multiple personalities to keep me company.” I stared at him across the desk; he didn't crack a smile. “That was a joke,” I clarified.

He smiled and made a note in my file.

Chapter 27

I
kicked the leaves on the sidewalk as I walked to the library. I wondered if there would be any way I could get some time alone with Nate later. I wanted to talk with him about Dr. Mike's plan for me to contact my dad.

I couldn't recall a time when my dad and I were close. I had some memories: him taking me to see Santa Claus at the mall and him wearing my mom's frilly apron to make his specialty lasagna. The thing is, I wasn't even sure whether they were my own memories or stories other people told that I'd hijacked to fill in my past. My parents split up when I was four, and from what my mom told me, he was pretty sick for a few years.

One memory I knew was mine was first-grade parents' day at school. I remember that my mom made me wear a dress and it had a lace collar that itched. I was nearly bouncing in my
seat waiting for Miss Klee to finish her welcome speech so I could talk to my mom. It seemed very exciting to have her there at school. All the grown-ups were standing at the back of the room, and I easily picked my mom out. Most of the other moms were in jeans or khakis. My mom was wearing a pink suit with matching pink shoes. She'd had to take the afternoon off from her job at the law firm. I couldn't wait to show her the picture I had made in art class. It was the best of the whole group. I could tell Miss Klee thought so too, because she had placed it right in the middle of the wall.

There was a shuffle at the back, and I heard my mom raise her voice. I cringed. I didn't know what I had done to get in trouble, and so much trouble that she would interrupt Miss Klee. Then I saw him. My dad had shown up. He was wearing a denim shirt that was splattered with paint. My mom was yelling at him to get out, that he had no right to be there. Miss Klee was flustered and trying to get control of her classroom back.

My dad crossed the room without answering my mom. He looked at the pictures on the back wall and picked mine out instantly.

“Is this one yours, pumpkin?” he asked, bending down at the side of my seat so we were on the same level.

I nodded.

“I knew it must be. Best one in the group.” I remember my chest filling up with pride. My dad drew better than anyone I knew, and he thought my picture was good.

My mom came up and hissed in my dad's ear. All the other parents were looking at us. “Even she doesn't want you here. Can't you see you're embarrassing her?”

My dad and mom both looked at me.

“Do you want me to go?” my dad asked.

I looked at him and then at Mom. I could see she was angry, and I knew exactly what she wanted me to say; she wanted me to send him away. I liked that my dad had come, but I didn't see him that often. My mom I saw every day. When she was mad, no one was happy. I nodded my head yes. My eyes dropped to my desk. Even at that age I knew I'd betrayed him.

“There you go. She doesn't want you. Now leave. You've done enough.”

And just like that my dad left. He didn't argue anymore with my mom, and he didn't try to have any regular visitation. I've seen him maybe a few dozen times since then, and he sends me a birthday card every year. I memorized his address, but I never wrote back and I certainly never went to visit. I realized now how much it must have hurt his feelings for me to reject him that day at school, but give me a break. I was six. He was the grown-up. It seems that he could have, that he
should
have, tried harder.

“I thought that was you. What are you doing here?”

I looked up in surprise; I'd been lost in my own thoughts and hadn't gotten very far down the block. Nicole was standing in front of me.

“Uh. I was just taking a walk.” My heart raced.

“And just happened to be right by my house?” She cocked her head to the side.

Shit. She knew I was seeing her shrink dad. It would take less than thirty seconds for this to spread all over school. Heck, she probably had already texted the entire student body with the update.

“I know why you're here.” Nicole sat down on the curb and motioned for me to sit. I sank down next to her. “I feel bad too.”

“You do?”

“Sure. I really did mean the whole thing to be joke, but I know it was way out of line. I should have realized how it would feel to you, especially being new and all. The whole panty thing was rude. I'd hate if we weren't friends. I'm guessing since you're here you must hate the idea of us not being friends, too.” Nicole put her hand on my arm. “So can we put it behind us?”

“Sure.” I shifted my weight on the cement curb and tried to avoid looking at her house in case she could somehow tell I had been inside. “I should tell you, I'm still not up for giving cheerleading another try. It isn't my thing.”

“Fair enough. Lucky for you, your best friends are on the squad.” She linked arms with me, and I had to fight the urge to move away from her. “We'll make sure you get invited to all the best parties. Oh! Which reminds me, have you heard about the bonfire?”

I thought of the fire Nate and I made on the beach, but
I knew that wasn't what she was talking about. “No, I haven't heard anything.”

“There's going to be a huge party at the beach on Tara Cove this Thursday. Chuck Watlin's brother bought him a keg, so there will be tons of beer. You'll come, won't you?”

“Sure.”

“And I need to ask you a favor, too.” Nicole gave a sly smile. “I want you to bring your brother with you.”

“Nate?”

Nicole laughed. “Do you have any other brothers? Of course Nathaniel. I figure this is my perfect chance. I'll ply him with a few drinks and make my move.”

My brain stuttered, trying to think of the right thing to say. “Nathaniel isn't big on parties. He's more of the quiet type.”

Nicole brushed away my words like they were mosquitoes. “Everyone likes a party. It depends on the company. If he doesn't like crowds, he and I can slip away, just the two of us. All I'm asking is that you get him there.”

“I'm not really comfortable with setting up Nate.” I left off the bit where part of my discomfort came from the fact that I was dating him myself.

“It's not a fix-up. All I'm asking you to do is invite him. I'll do the rest.” Nicole gave me a sidelong glance. “Certainly an invitation isn't asking too much.” She laughed again. “If you keep this up, I'll think you want him for yourself.”

I tried to join her laugh, but mine sounded hollow and empty.

“Perfect. Then it's settled.” Nicole smiled and gave my knee a pat.

“I have to go. I need to get to the library before they close.” I hated the feeling that I was asking her permission to leave.

“Of course.” Nicole and I both stood. “Remember, I'm counting on you.”

I waved to her as I walked away and hoped she would take that as an answer.

Chapter 28

T
he library was empty of other patrons. I smiled at the cranky librarian who was shelving books in the kid's section and dumped all my stuff on a table near the back. I pulled out a sheet of paper from one of my notebooks. I stared down at the blank page. You would think I'd have a lot of things to say to my dad since we hadn't talked in years, but I couldn't think of how to start. I chewed on the end of my pen for a bit before I tried to begin.

Dear Dad,

Surprise! It's me. I hope you're in the same place, because this is the only address I have for you. In case you haven't heard, we've moved. Mom got remarried and we're living on one of the islands now.

I saw some of your paintings in a gallery a couple of years ago. They were awesome. I should have told you then, but I didn't. I'm still drawing, but Mom's not crazy about it. I'm thinking about art school, but not sure.

There are actually a lot of things I'm not sure about. Nothing against Mom, but I thought it might be nice to have a different perspective on things once in a while. I'd like to be able to call you, if it's okay. If it's not, I understand. I'm seeing a shrink. Mom thought I should get some help getting my life on track. I can't really tell if I'm off track or not. Did you know?

I hope you're still painting and that life is good.

Your daughter,

Isobel

I read the letter over. It was lame. It was worse than lame. I felt like pounding my head on the table.

“Trouble thinking of what you want to say?” Mandy asked, leaning against the shelf at the end of the row.

I sighed. “It's a letter to my dad. We've been sort of estranged.” I held up the paper. “I guess I thought sending a strange letter would fix things.”

“Seems like a good place to start,” Mandy said.

I liked that she didn't start fishing for details of why we were estranged or start offering advice about how when she was a kid
she never got along with her parents either, and now she realized how they always had her best interests at heart. “I'm not sure where to begin,” I said.

“Sometimes, how we say something doesn't matter as much as saying it in the first place,” she said.

“Do you think I should send it?”

“There are envelopes and stamps in the top drawer of the desk.” She nodded toward the check-out counter. “Take what you need. My treat.” She smiled.