The Mother's Promise(72)

It had come out fast, in a long line without pause or inflection. By the time she finished, she was breathless and her heart was a drum in her ears. But the important thing was that she’d done it. There was something to be said for little wins. It almost made her want to do it again.

“I’m impressed,” Dr. Sanders told Zoe. “How did it feel?”

“It felt uncomfortable,” she said. “But … it could have been worse.”

Dr. Sanders didn’t smile exactly, but he seemed pleased. It made Zoe feel like punching the sky. Mrs. Hunt had made her promise she’d meet with Dr. Sanders at least three times, and she’d been dreading it, but now she realized it had some upsides. It was actually pretty nice, having someone to talk to.

The truth was, her week back at school had been brutal. For the first few days while Harry still had been suspended, Cameron had continued to spill water every time Zoe walked into the room. On top of Cameron’s antics, there were the expected whispers and stares. Then there were those who felt bad for her, and Zoe suffered equally under their gaze. In fact, in a way, kindness was worse than cruelty because the pressure to respond graciously could be crippling, and she inevitably failed at it.

Still, things weren’t all bad. She and Jessie Lee and Emily had taken to sitting with Harry and a few of his friends at lunchtime, which Emily, of course, loved. Most of the time Zoe sat in silence, worrying that everyone thought she was the weird mute chick, but she managed to follow along with the conversation, even laugh a little.

She hadn’t seen Kate since that day at her house. She thought about her sometimes, hated the way they’d left things. But she couldn’t do it to her mom.

“Well, I think we can consider that a successful first week, don’t you?” Dr. Sanders said.

Zoe nodded.

“So,” he said, glancing down at the folder in front of him. “I thought today we could talk a little about your parents.” He looked up, expectant.

“Er … okay.” It seemed like a strange thing to talk about; then again, maybe it wasn’t. On TV everyone seemed to talk about their parents in therapy.

“Why don’t you start by telling me about your childhood?”

He watched her carefully. Zoe felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Well … I guess, there’s not much to tell. I’ve spent my whole life in Atherton. I lived with my mom and my great-great-grandma until I was two, when she died. Since then, it’s just been Mom and me.”

“And your dad?”

Zoe shook her head. “He’s not in my life. I don’t even know who he is.”

Dr. Sanders was quiet for a moment. “It must have been strange, growing up without a father.”

“It wasn’t strange. You don’t miss what you don’t have. And my mom more than made up for him not being around.”

“You didn’t feel cheated, not having a father figure in your life?”

“No,” Zoe said. “Although … I do think about him sometimes. You know, just wonder what he’s like.”

The truth was, Zoe had been thinking of her dad more lately. Maybe it was because of Kate’s husband, David, the perfect, friendly nice-guy dad, or maybe it was because her mom was sick? In those moments—those horrible moments—when she entertained the idea that her mom might actually die, she couldn’t help but think of him. Up until now, she’d been happy not to know anything about him. The thing about having social anxiety was that you weren’t too interested in knowing someone who didn’t want to know you. But things were … changing.

She’d started imagining seeing him on the street. The fantasy was almost always the same. He’d be at the gas station, or walking his dog, and she’d feel it—a zing of electricity in the air. He’d glance up and he would know, of course, that it was her. They’d run all the way home, together, to tell her mom. Look, she would say. It’s him! They’d all squeal and have a revolting three-way hug.

It would be a turning point in their lives. The missing piece for both of them. They’d start spending time together—occasionally at first, and then more often. After a while she’d start texting him “Happy Father’s Day” and then they’d become friends on Facebook, and he would write all those dorky comments on her posts that her friends were always mortified by. And she’d text him and say “Daaaaad!” And he would send back about ten emojis, because dads always overused those things.

But it was just a fantasy.

“I mean … it’s stupid,” she said. “If he was a good guy and he, you know, wanted me … he’d already be in my life. So I shouldn’t even think about it.”

Dr. Sanders’s expression was doing something with his face, sucking at the inside of his mouth or something, that made him look really tense.

“I don’t think it’s stupid to think about it,” he said. “The biological pull is strong. Studies show that children are nearly always better off with both biological parents in their lives. Even just knowing who your father is has the potential to bring you a lot of peace.”

It was the first time Zoe had seen him be anything more forceful than neutral. But there was something in his tone that was stronger. It gave her a funny feeling.

The bell went.

“Zoe—”