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“Yeah, I can see that, too.”
She stared at her food. “I looked up some of the names on my laptop last night.” She’d been working on ‘homework’ after we’d had dinner. And apparently doing research.
“Most of the counselors require you to get a parent’s permission to talk to them.”
Fuck.
“Do you think your mom would sign a permission slip for me? She’s on the list of people authorized for me at school.”
“Frankie, she’d sign it in a heartbeat.” I didn’t even have to ask. “For that matter,Icould sign it.”
At her raised eyebrows, I shrugged.
“Unless they physically need to see your mom, how do they know who signs it?”
She blinked slowly. “That’s…dishonest.”
So was her mother.
“Not if it gets you the help you want.” If she was bringing this up, then she wanted it. So dammit, we were going to make it happen. “I can call my mom right now and ask her if you want me to.”
“No,” she said, stopping me with a hand on mine. “I just—I haven’t figured it out totally. I’ve never seen a psychologist before. Curtises don’t do counseling.”
“That sounds like a terrible catchphrase.”
It was Frankie’s turn to shrug. “I don’t know how to do it. How do you trust someone you don’t know with stuff that’s really personal?”
“You build trust. You start slow, you take your time. You talked to Denitra, right?” This bordered dangerously close to pushing. We’d let Frankie bring up that night. Archie wanted to erase it all and try and make it go away. Jake still seethed, a simmering volcano of pissed off. Shockingly, Bubba seemed to teeter between furious and depressed about it. The former was not him. He wasn’t usually an angry guy.
But I got why this made him angry.
Me?
It pissed me off, too. But I was more worried about her and whether she’d bury it like she had everything else shitty that happened. You could only pretend everything was all right for so long before you popped.
“Well, it was kind of hard to not talk to her.” Frankie stabbed at some of the meat still in her container. “But she seemed to know everything before I said it. Nothing surprised her.”
“That’s the job,” I told her. “That’s what psychologists and other specialists train for. You’re not their entertainment or there to shock them. They’re there tohelpyou.”
“Feels weird to think I need help.”
Oh sweetheart. There was so much I wanted to say, and I bit my tongue. Instead, I focused on what she might need to hear. “Maybe. Then again, look at Jake and Bubba. Jake’s always had an issue with his temper.”
“Yeah, but he’s only going because he has no other choice.”
“True. Same can be said for Bubba, but they’re still going, and I haven’t heard either one complain about it, have you?”
She shook her head slowly. “No, now that you mention it. They haven’t brought it up at all.”
“Exactly, they aren’t complaining or fighting for that matter. Again, this isn’t about what other people do, but it’s something to think about. If you have questions, ask them. I doubt they’d mind talking to you about it.”
They might, but I knew Jake. He’d put himself out there. He’d open a vein if she needed it. Bubba wanted to rebuild that bridge, so it might be a good place to start.
“Have you ever thought about therapy?” She pinned me with a look, and I shrugged.
“Only every single day for the last few years.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes.
