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“Oh, today?” she asked, seeming happily surprised but also nervous.
“Yeah, if it works for you,” I said.
“Right. Today is good. I’ll see you around...”
“Four should be good,” I said.
“Four it is.”
Fifty-Four
April
I camehome from eating lunch with Dad at the Rhodora Center and stared at the new car in our driveway. The yellow Bug looked familiar, but I had no idea who’d be driving it.
Curious, I got out of the car and walked to the front door. Through the front window, I could see my mom sitting on the couch... with my guidance counselor.
As soon as I opened the door to walk inside, the room got quiet and they turned my way.
“Um... This is weird,” I said.
Birdie giggled, and Mom managed a smile.
“It’s nice to see you, April,” Birdie said, standing up. “You have a beautiful home.” She walked my way, wearing jeans with bright patches on them, red clogs, and what looked like a hand-knitted sweater, and then gave me a hug.
I awkwardly put my arms around her, sending my mom a look over her shoulder that said,What is going on?
Mom glanced down at her coffee and took a sip.
“Come sit with us,” Birdie said, like this wasn’t my house. “We were just chatting about your college applications.”
My stomach sank because I knew I hadn’t completed any. The last few weeks, months, years even, had been about survival. I’d avoided all the links to local colleges that Birdie sent me, trying to get by.
My mom had signed me up with a therapist at Dr. Sanders’s recommendation. After two sessions, Dr. Mason already suspected I had been suffering with PTSD and anxiety since my dad’s injury. It wasn’t fun talking about all my feelings and traumas, but I hoped it would help get the constant feelings of guilt and pain out of my system.
But I was still depressed. Our home felt empty without Dad in it, and I felt like I didn’t know how to exist without the daily occurrence of watching his moods, managing his medication, making sure Mom had enough of a break.
Even getting to do my clinical hours for my CNA certification hadn’t been as fun as I thought it would be. It had me questioning everything, including my goal to become a nurse.
Mom said, “Birdie called me Friday to check in about your college applications, and when I explained some of what was going on, she was nice enough to offer to come over on her day off just to chat.”
The nerves in my chest eased slightly. I could say that for Birdie; it seemed like she really did care and wasn’t just cashing in a paycheck.
“I’m sorry I didn’t fill out the applications,” I said, looking at my mom. “I know I said I’d handle it, but I’ve just been overwhelmed.”
“Of course you have, honey,” Mom said gently.
Birdie nodded. “Senior year, college apps, ACTs and SATs. It’s a hard time for any student. Especially ones carrying the types of burdens that you’ve been dealing with.”
“My dad isn’t a burden,” I said quickly.
“You’re right,” Birdie said, sounding contrite. “I meant with the worries and concerns that you have, rightly so.”
I fiddled with the seam of the velvet chair I sat on, wishing this was over. “I really will get the applications done. I can probably go to the library tomorrow and focus on them.”
Mom and Birdie exchanged a glance.
“What?” I asked.
