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1 Month Later
Emma relaxed into the couch in her therapist, Dr. Ruby’s office. The woman sat across from her in a pink pencil skirt and white blouse with gold bracelets dangling from her wrists. Her amber eyes locked on Emma’s in rapt attention. Dr. Ruby tucked a dark strand of hair behind her ear, her pink nail polish contrasting her warm ochre skin.
She’d gotten access to her phone for an hour that morning and had taken a first glimpse at the media storm raging with different assumptions as to why she’d been admitted to the hospital. Callie was no longer working with them. The label had deemed her a liability after the truth of what happened that night and the fact that she had been the one to arrange suppliers for most of the drugs had come to light. Her new manager and the label’s PR company were taking care of that mess and were not too happy with having to delay yet another round of concerts. Her career was hanging on by a thread. But instead, she’d focused on the texts waiting in her inbox from Link.
Link: Miss you, beautiful. Spend my days thinking about you and hoping you’re doing better. I love you, little bird. Can’t wait to have you in my arms again.
She smiled. She wanted that, but only if it was truly the best thing for him too. As long as she didn’t bring him down.
“Why don’t we talk about your father’s letter today?” Dr. Ruby suggested.
Emma picked up the yellow pillow with red tassels by her side, running the threads through her fingers as she agreed. “What do you want to know?”
“I’ve read it, like you requested.” She handed it back to Emma.
Emma folded it neatly and slipped it into the pocket of her hoodie.
“I’d like to know what you thought of what he said about your mother.”
Emma took a deep breath as rejection and old emotions rose to the surface, tinted in anger. “I feel confused. Angry. Rejected. But more so like I don’t know how to feel anymore.”
“If your mother had taken you with her, what do you think your life would have been like?” Dr. Ruby asked.
Broken memories of drug dens and a dirty apartment without power or clean water flashed through her mind. “I wouldn’t have been safe or cared for most likely.”
“Having an adult point of view to look at a situation can help in many cases, but it doesn’t negate the emotions and the hurt caused by those actions when you were a child. Tell me about the but.”
“The what?”
“When you tell yourself you’d be unsafe if your mother had taken you with her—so you were better off with her leaving—what is the ‘but if only’ that pops into your head? What is the internal argument that comes to your mind?”
Emma took a sip of water from the bottle before setting it back on the coffee table between them. “But if she had taken me, maybe I could have saved her. Given her a reason to get clean if she saw how much I was hurting from her decisions.”
Dr. Ruby was silent for a moment as if letting Emma’s confession ruminate. “That is a lot of responsibility to put on yourself as a child.”
Emma nodded.
“You told me you have nieces and nephews. Do you believe it is their responsibility to save their parents?”
“No.” Emma shook her head at the absurd statement. The therapist remained quiet.
“I understand it isn’t logical. I just thought that maybe if I’d been good enough, I could have helped her.”
“It is never the child’s responsibility to take care of their parent or caregiver. You evolved into that role as a way of survival, your basic evolutionary instincts in order to make the best out of an exceptionally difficult situation.” Her doctor leaned back in the yellow chair. “I want you to close your eyes.”
Emma did as she instructed.
“Take a deep breath and imagine you as a child when you felt most scared and vulnerable,” Dr. Ruby guided.
Emma fought the surge of emotion that rose in her chest, clogging her throat.
“Don’t hold back. Just take time in this safe space to feel what you couldn’t back then.”
Tears escaped Emma’s closed lids at the image her mind painted of her so lonely and scared, worrying about how many days her mother would be gone this time and when she was going to have food.
“Now, I want you to imagine you are there as you are now with your inner child. Give her a hug and tell her all the things you needed to be told back then. Comfort her.”
Emma imagined stepping in front of a large mirror. Instead of her reflection, it was her as a child. Dirty smudges stained her pale skin. Dark bruises marked her sunken eyes, rounded with fear as she hugged her bony arms to her too-skinny body. Emma kneeled, getting on her level. She reached through the glass, wrapping the child in a tight hug. It’s going to be okay. Soon you will be taken in by the best man in the world and his son. They will love you and protect you, and you will never go hungry again. You will be loved. The child relaxed into her, letting out sobs.
