The Perfect Child(39)

“Right now, Janie thinks you’re on her side and that it’s the two of you against Hannah.”

“But I am on her side . . .” I didn’t mean it like I was against Hannah, but I was Janie’s biggest cheerleader. I would always be on her side and looking out for her best interests.

“There’re no sides. That’s the thing.” She leaned forward, getting closer to me. “The three of you are a family. Nobody is against anybody. All of you are together, and hurting family members is not okay. That’s what we’re trying to teach her through this exercise.”

I’d forgotten all about the exercise.

“What are we supposed to do if she doesn’t say good night to me?” Hannah asked.

“Then you say good night to her, and Christopher doesn’t. After that, you proceed to do what you always do. It’s not like you’re ignoring her completely or anything like that. Stick to the rest of the routine.”

“The rest of her routine means I go to sleep on her floor,” I said.

“Then that’s what you do,” she said matter-of-factly.



“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I told Hannah on the drive home. I hadn’t paid attention to the last ten minutes of our session because I’d been trying to wrap my head around purposefully manipulating a six-year-old child, especially one who’d been traumatized, into doing something you wanted them to. Dr. Chandler kept telling us Janie’s silence toward Hannah was her way of communicating her anger and hurt toward her mother. If that was the case, and I agreed that it was, then I didn’t understand how forcing Janie to talk to Hannah was a good idea. She was communicating her feelings in the only way she knew how, and everything I’d researched stressed the importance of letting abused children make their own choices.

Janie had a right to be angry at her mom. Dr. Chandler was supposed to be working on helping her express her feelings toward her mother during their individual sessions. She said kids often played out what they’d gone through, and Janie was beginning to act out what she’d experienced. I didn’t understand why we couldn’t just give Janie time to work through her feelings about her mom. Once she’d expressed them, I was willing to bet she’d start talking to Hannah on her own without us pushing her. I was against forcing her to talk to Hannah. Nothing about it sat well with me.

She huffed. “What’s the point of going to therapy if you’re not going to do what the therapist suggests?”

“Maybe she’s not the best therapist for us.” There were other therapists who specialized in attachment issues. I’d looked them up on my own after Piper had suggested seeing one. Dr. Chandler had great reviews, but so did many of the others.

“Piper recommended her. She’s the best there is.” She glared at me.

I dropped the subject, but I was nervous about doing it and grew more anxious the closer it came to bedtime. I didn’t disagree with setting boundaries with Janie, but she was too fragile to be pushed. What was wrong with letting her act out until she got it out of her system? Besides, hurting someone on purpose who’d already been harmed so much just seemed inherently wrong. Why couldn’t Hannah see that?

We tucked her into bed together like we always did and read Harold and the Purple Crayon twice since it was her latest obsession. She knew most of the words by heart. Hannah reached over and gave her a big hug and kiss like she always did despite Janie’s unresponsiveness. Tonight was no different. Janie sat stiff as a board with her hands at her sides.

“Good night, Janie,” Hannah said.

Janie ignored her. I’d been hoping tonight would be the night she decided to start speaking to her again and I wouldn’t have to go through with the plan.

“Honey, Hannah said good night to you, and it’s not nice to ignore her. It hurts her feelings when you ignore her,” I recited just as Dr. Chandler had instructed me. “We are a family, and it’s not okay for you to hurt Hannah’s feelings. I want you to say good night to her.”

She glared at me.

“I’m not going to tell you good night unless you tell Hannah good night because it’s not fair. We practice fairness in our family.” It all sounded right but felt wrong in my gut.

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “No.”

Hannah slid off the bed. “Come on, Christopher. It’s time for bed.”

Janie turned to look at her with a murderous glare. Usually, she ignored her completely, like Hannah was an invisible woman. It was the first time in weeks I’d seen her respond to her at all. I didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one. Hannah held out her hand to me, and I took it. She led me down to the pallet of blankets on the floor like I was a child. Janie leaned over and stared at us.

“I’m going to sleep now,” I said.

“No! You have to say good night to me! Say good night to me!” Janie screamed.

Hannah walked over to the light and flicked it off. She left the room, but I saw her shadow hovering in the hallway. I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

Janie started wailing. “Say good night! Say good night!” She picked up her stuffed animals and hurled them at me. She ripped her bed apart and threw each piece of bedding at me until she was left with just the bare mattress.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself not to move. I wanted to comfort her so badly. It physically hurt not to speak or reach for her.