AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Emil shook his head.
“Would you like to set up another appointment so we can discuss this when you’re not feeling so overwhelmed?”
Emil stared at her. “Do I seem that overwhelmed?”
“You have perfectly manicured nails, so I’m going to assume that picking there is a panic response and not a common habit,” she said. “You also seem to be answering most of my questions with your own questions. It’s a deflection technique I’m very familiar with.”
Emil flushed. “God. I’m…yeah. Maybe I should go. Therapy was probably a mistake.”
“I don’t think therapy is a mistake,” Sarah told him calmly. “I think that for people who have been in survival mode most of their lives, it’s hard to sit in front of someone and pay them for the privilege of being emotionally flayed.”
“Yikes. That’s…very honest,” he told her.
“I know. That’s sort of what I do. I’m going to be as delicate as you need me to be, but there is a difference between need and want, and we’re going to learn where that line is.”
Emil felt like he was being scolded by a boss or a parent—though that wasn’t exactly something he had a lot of experience in. But hell, maybe if that had happened when he was a teenager, his adult life would have been different.
“Emil?” Sarah asked after a prolonged silence.
Emil passed a hand down his face. “Does anyone ever lie down?”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “I have disposable pillows.”
Emil frowned at her. “What? Why?”
At that, she laughed. “Because I have a two-year-old who sometimes comes to my office when I have to do paperwork.”
Emil’s frown deepened. “Okay?”
“She’s had lice six times this year,” Sarah said.
He flinched and sat forward. “Oh. Wonderful.”
“Tell me about it. Those shampoos never work, and we’ve had to rebuy a dozen Squishmallows to the point I’m going to buy stock in the damn things.” Sarah clicked her pen, then set her notebook down. “You won’t get lice from the couch, so you can lie down, but I also don’t want to spend too much time on avoidance tactics.”
Emil laughed. “Definitely the mom of a two-year-old.”
“I’m an expert, what I can I say,” she said, spreading her hands. “What were you like at three?”
Emil flinched, but it was an easier question to answer because he’d spent more time with his father then. The custody battle didn’t begin until he was in school. “I don’t remember much. My dad was rich, and my mom was happily living on his child support. I never saw him, but I think for a little while, I was happy with my mom.”
“What changed?”
“My mom got…well, no, she was always sick, but she lost her battle to it.”
“Physical?” Sarah asked.
“Mental.” His voice started to tremble because he was about to say words he hadn’t said ever. And the last time he’d heard them was when he was a teenager and his caseworker was explaining the situation to him. “It was called, uh…Munchausen something…”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “Ah. It’s called something else now. Would you like to know what it is?”
“No,” he said abruptly. “Uh. If that’s okay.”
“It’s okay,” she confirmed.
He felt almost sick with relief. “I guess I didn’t have it as bad as other kids did. She didn’t poison me. She just…made me think I was sick all the time—like I wasn’t ever going to get any better. Everyone at my school and everyone in our neighborhood thought I was dying. For a while, I thought I was dying. And she was…she was mean.” Emil took a breath and realized he couldn’t go on. “Can we stop?”
“The session?”
