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“She’s an adult,” Tully said.
“Please, Dad? Please?”
He sighed. “Shit. ”
She knew then. It was done. He looked down at her. “I’ve given my notice in L. A. We’ll be moving back into the house on Bainbridge Island in September. It was going to be a surprise. We want to be living here when you’re at the UW. ”
“That’s great,” she said, not really caring.
He looked past Marah to Tully. “You better take good care of my girl, Tully. ”
“Like she was my own daughter, Johnny,” Tully said solemnly.
It was done.
* * *
An hour later, Marah sat slouched in a chair in Dr. Bloom’s office. She’d been staring at the ficus plant in the corner for at least ten minutes while Dr. Bloom scribbled something on paper.
“What are you writing? A grocery list?” Marah asked, staring at her hands.
“It’s not a grocery list. What do you think I’m writing?”
“I don’t know. But if you aren’t going to say anything, why am I here?”
“Yours is the voice that matters in here, Marah. And you know you’re welcome to leave. ”
“Tully and my dad are out there. ”
“And you don’t want them to know you aren’t committed to therapy. Why is that?”
“Do you only ask questions?”
“I ask a lot of them. It can help guide your thoughts. You’re depressed, Marah. You’re smart enough to know that, and you’re cutting yourself. I don’t think it’s a bad idea for you to consider why you do it. ”
Marah looked up.
Dr. Bloom’s gaze was steady. “I’d really like to help you, if you’ll let me. ” She paused. “Do you want to be happy again?”
Marah wanted it so badly she felt sick. She wanted to be the girl she used to be.
“Let me help you. ”
Marah thought about the network of scars on her thighs and arms, and the way pain fascinated her, and the beautiful red of her blood.
Don’t give up, baby girl.
“Yeah,” she said. As soon as the word fell from her mouth, she felt a tightening of anxiety in her stomach.
“That’s a start,” Dr. Bloom said. “And now our time is up. ”
Marah got to her feet and followed Dr. Bloom out of the office. In the waiting room, she saw her dad first. He was sitting on the sofa by Tully, flipping through a magazine without looking at the printed pages. At her entrance, he got to his feet.
Before he could say anything, Dr. Bloom said: “Can we talk, Mr. Ryan? In my office?”
Tully said, “I’m coming in, too,” and in a blink, they were gone, and Marah was alone in the waiting room. She looked back at the closed door. What was the doctor telling them? Dr. Bloom had promised Marah that their sessions were private. You’re eighteen, she’d said, an adult. Our sessions are ours alone.
“Well, well, well. ”
