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From Stacia.
Hi Lindsay. I’d love to talk with you.
I inhale so sharply from shock that a piece of apple gets caught in my throat, making me gag. Hacking, I cough hard, the piece dislodging.
“For goodness sake, Lindsay,” Mom says in hushed tones. “Try not to make a spectacle of yourself.”
“Right,” I rasp. “I’ll remember that next time I’m experiencing oxygen deprivation. Priority: don’t make waves.”
Mom glares.
I glare back. “You gave Stacia my phone number?”
“Anya must have. We decided it was best.”
“Who decided?”
She ignores that question. A master at swinging any conversation in the direction of her choosing, Mom says, “Weekly phone sessions with Stacia will be critical for your success during the campaign.”
“I can’t stand Stacia.”
“She’s good for you.”
“She’s good for you.”
“You need professional help.”
She’s right. I hate to admit it, but she’s right. “I’ll see a psychologist.”
Mom looks so satisfied with herself. She resumes eating, jabbing the salad like it’s a fencing competition.
“But not her. A different doctor. One I choose.”
“You are so stubborn—”
“Just like your father,” I say with her, our voices in stereo. We laugh. I think we’re both desperate to find a way to bridge from our anger to something better.
That is so hard.
And I have a feeling she expects me to extend the olive branch. No way.
“My choice. I’ll pick. And not someone you or Daddy vets.”
“That’s a tall order. You know we need to make sure any professional you might confide in won’t turn around and sell your stories to the tabloids.”
“A professional psychologist with a Ph.D. and a license isn’t going to do that, Mom.”
“Your first one already did. While you were at the Island.”
I feel like I am floating in the ocean, thousands of miles from land, and giant swells keep crashing into me, making me sputter, the taste of sea water destroying me from the outside in.
“That happened?” I croak. “Who?”
“One of the rape counselors from the emergency room.”
“The what?”
“You were groggy, but able to speak, when you first came in.” Mom describes this like she’s telling me the storyline for the latest movie she saw. “A rape counselor interviewed you. Later, when Tara, Mandy and Jenna came forward and shared that you’d asked for the kinky foursome, the rape counselor did, too. Told everyone you told her it was consensual.”
