Rapid Falls(48)

“You look good,” he says, breaking the hug and looking for a place to sit. He awkwardly pushes a few items to the back of a chair and perches on the edge. It’s the only other furnishing besides a small wooden table. The room couldn’t hold any more—it’s the size of our walk-in closet. Rick settles on the chair, and I lean against the wall. There’s nowhere else for me to go, but even if there was, I’d stay standing. I need to keep my distance.

“Liar,” she says, blushing slightly. I choke down my anger. Rick is just being polite. Anna looks like shit. There’s no way Rick could find her attractive. Silence. They both seem to have exhausted their conversational supply.

“How is everything going here? Feeling good?” My voice sounds overly encouraging, like a primary school teacher readying her star student for a spelling bee. “Has Mom come to visit?” I feel uncharitably happy when Anna shakes her head sadly. I know that my mother hasn’t made the trip, but I like making Anna admit it. I don’t ask about my dad. I don’t want to know. “How are the beds? Comfy?”

Anna looks at me with slightly squinted eyes, trying to figure out if I’m mocking her. She decides to trust my sincerity.

“They’re okay. You know, rehab.” She laughs a little, and Rick smiles uncomfortably.

“And the food?” I say lamely.

Anna shrugs. “Not bad. Not great. I don’t pay much attention. The psychiatrist started me on a new antidepressant. It kind of kills my appetite.”

“Huh.” This piques my interest, but I try not to let it show. “Is the psychiatrist the person I met? For the family therapy session?”

“No.” Anna laughs. “She’s just a social worker. Dr. Hinkley is a real doctor.” Anna seems oddly proud, as if working with a psychiatrist justifies all her past bad behavior. I try to be supportive.

“That’s good. So how is it going?” I ask. I feel awkward discussing Anna’s mental health in front of Rick, but I need to know who Anna is talking to and what she’s saying. Rick shifts in his chair, but Anna leans forward eagerly. She seems to have no issue revealing these details to Rick. Maybe she thinks of him as family. The thought makes saliva flood to my mouth, as if I’m about to be sick.

“Yeah, it’s pretty good, actually. I like her,” she says.

“What kind of stuff do you talk about?” I ask.

“Well . . .” Anna looks at Rick carefully. He nods and smiles encouragingly, but I have a feeling Anna can tell he’s forcing it. “She’s into this idea that addiction always begins with trauma. Like childhood stuff.”

Rick pulls out a pack of gum and takes a stick, offering us some. The minty smell reminds me of my mom, back when we were kids and we used to sneak it from her seemingly bottomless purse. I wonder if Anna has the same memory.

“Trauma?” I say. “So, like Mom and Dad and Freud?” I make a joke to diminish what my mom told me last night.

Anna laughs. “Maybe for some people. I don’t think that’s what’s going on with me. Neither does Dr. Hinkley.”

“Okay,” I say. Rick looks at me sharply. He must detect wariness in my voice. I set my face back to neutral.

“What does Dr. Hinkley think is going on?” Rick asks.

“She . . .” Anna looks at the wall, as if remembering their last session. “She wants to talk about the accident a lot. About life in Rapid Falls when we were young.” She turns back to me and looks straight into my eyes. “About . . . everything.”

I feel the hair on my arms raise in high alert. Anna knows not to talk about Jesse in front of Rick. She knows I’ve told him only part of the story.

“How often do you see her? Dr. Hinkley?” My voice sounds level again. Rick looks at me and smiles. Good.

“About once a week. Not a lot. She wants me to find a therapist after I get out. To try to get through more of this stuff.”

I nod, trying to figure out a response.

Rick breaks in. “You see her once a week? That doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Yeah.” Anna lifts her mouth into a half smile. “It’s not. But you take what you can get here. And there’s group sessions. Those happen twice a day. Those are usually led by the woman you met, Cara.”

My pulse slows. The groups with a social worker seem safer. Anna needs to speak in a place where no one is going to press her to go further than surface level. Someone like Dr. Hinkley delving into Anna’s past is dangerous. It could hurt her. It could hurt us all.

“Maybe we can help?” Rick says kindly. “Those group sessions aren’t going to be enough, and you’re only in here for a few more weeks. We’ve talked about finding a good therapist for you, and it sounds like now is the time. I can ask around and find someone to start working with you as soon as you get out. Or maybe Dr. Hinkley can see you as an outpatient.” Rick meets my eyes and smiles, as if both of our dreams have finally come true for my sister.

Anna looks at Rick like a dog that was expecting to get whipped but was given a bone instead. “That would be great.” The way she says it makes me realize how few people have offered to do things for Anna in her adult life. I think Rick hears it too because his face softens and he looks at her with kindness. I need to think fast.

“You know,” I say, as if it’s just occurred to me. “I’m almost certain that my boss’s wife went to see someone after . . . her miscarriage.” The story about the miscarriage is true. I have no idea if she went to therapy. It doesn’t matter—I just need to get back in control. “Why don’t I ask Larry for that name? It would be a good place to start. You’ve got so much on your plate right now, Rick.” I look at him in a way that’s intended to make him feel like we are on the same side, the right side. It’s also intended to make Anna feel excluded. It works.