Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(46)

“Right,” she said.

“Well, I don’t think I’d be breaking any particular confidence if I told you that almost every teenager I know is unhappy with some aspect of their appearance, and also that between the ages of eleven and nineteen, sizes, shapes and other specifics vary widely. One year I had a sixth-grade client with five o’clock shadow and a sophomore client who could’ve been mistaken for a sixth grader. Almost to the last one, they lament that they just can’t ‘be like everyone else.’ And none of them is like everyone else. There doesn’t seem to be an everyone else.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, there are lots of everyone elses! And why do you use words like lament with me?”

He smiled patiently. “Because you know what it means.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said. “Absolutely sure. Now, how are things going with your dad these days? The two of you getting along any better?”

She shrugged. “We do all right sometimes. I can tell he prays every day that I’ll disappear. We have to go have dinner at his girlfriend’s house tonight. He’s begging me to be nice to her.”

Jerry sat forward. “That statement, Courtney—he prays that you’ll disappear? What makes you say that?”

“Well, I’m not what he had in mind, you know.”

“Explain, please?”

She sighed heavily. “We did okay when my mom was alive. He loved my mom so much, but so did I, and she loved us both and so… Well, we had a good time together. Taking care of me without my mom around—it isn’t what he thought he’d have to do.”

“I’m sure,” Jerry said. “Just as you didn’t think you’d be living with him without your mom. But how does he make you feel he’d like you to disappear?”

“I disappoint him a lot.”

“How?”

“You know how,” she insisted. “It’s obvious. I looked like a freak, my grades were bad, my friends were bad… I let him down. I wasn’t easy.”

“Was, was, was,” Jerry said. “What’s changed?”

“I changed my hair for one thing. You should’ve seen his face—he thought he’d won the lottery. I wear riding clothes because that’s what I have now. That sort of thing.”

Jerry’s lips moved as though he tried not to smile at her. “I bet if you dug around in the closet, you could find those old Goth clothes. If you root around in the bathroom, you’ll find the black nail polish and lipstick. Which leads me to a question—how long have you been Goth?”

“You act like you know what Goth is!” she said with derision.

“I know you think you’re a complete original,” he said with a laugh. “How long?”

“A year, I guess.”

“A reaction to your mother’s death?” he asked.

“I don’t understand the question,” she said immediately.

“Yes, you do. A reaction to your mother’s death? Did your adoption of the Goth style have something to do with your mother’s death?”

“Sort of, I guess…”

“You guess how?”

She looked down into her lap. “Everyone was ready for me to get over it, that she died, and I couldn’t.”

“Everyone?”

“Lief was getting over it—he wasn’t up prowling the house all night, wasn’t staring so hard he looked like a dead body. He laughed on the phone, went to meetings about his scripts. My friends at school didn’t want to hang out anymore—they said I was depressing. Everyone was getting over it. But me.”

“So…?”

“So I thought if I just dressed in black, in Goth, I wouldn’t have to put on some show about being all happy when I wasn’t all happy!”

“Ah!” Jerry said. “Brilliant!”

“Brilliant?”

“Absolutely brilliant! What a perfect solution! You know, Courtney, you are definitely not the weirdest kid who comes to see me, but you might be the smartest. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think…”

“At fourteen, knowing exactly what you feel and why you feel it is still a process. But you’re acting on instinct to defend and protect your feelings, and that’s a leap ahead of your peers.”

“I’d rather be five-six and stacked,” she said with a pout.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “All in good time, Courtney. I’m confident that will come. Let me get back to something important—the disappearing thing. Have you ever wanted to disappear?”

She shrugged and thought for a second. “Back when I was living with my real dad, Stu. Yeah, I was kind of hoping I’d just die.”

“And now?”

“Oh, I don’t want to die,” she said. “I’d never do anything like that. I’m only a little crazy, you know.”

“Actually, I don’t find you crazy at all. I think you’re quite stable. Now, about dinner tonight…”

“What?” she said.

“This girlfriend of your dad’s…”

“Some woman visiting here from the Bay Area. Visiting for a long time, like she might even stay. She’s a cook of some kind. He likes her and he really wants me to like her.”