Flat-Out Love - Park Jessica - Страница 26

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Julie looked out the small window at the gray sky. “Because I like them?”

“They probably like you, too. But there’s something very sad here. Everyone is in coping mode. Functioning independently. Everyone has defense mechanisms working at full force. And there is a firm level of secrecy regarding … well, we don’t know what, do we?”

“Correct.”

 “They’ve set their parameters and I’m not sure you’re in the position to cross those.”

“Why is Celeste doing this? I mean, her brother is off traveling. Big deal. He has the right to, doesn’t he? He can’t live at home forever. Tons of girls her age must have older brothers who leave the house, yet they don’t react the way she has. I don’t get it. She’s got so much potential. And I think I can help Celeste.”

“Ah. You’re a fixer.”

“A what?”

“A fixer. You want to fix this for them. Why?”

“I told you. I like them. Especially Celeste. I can’t just sit around and pretend that carting around a flat brother is not hideously weird. There’s a great kid under the unusual exterior. Nobody is moving. It’s like they’re frozen, afraid to rock the boat with her.”

He nodded. “They probably are. Whatever containment strategies they’ve developed are working to some degree. At least, working in the sense that they’ve stabilized whatever they’re managing. In their eyes, things aren’t getting worse.”

Julie held his somber look. “But they will, won’t they?”

“Probably, yes. A dysfunctional system like this can’t hold up forever. At some point there will be a break.”

She felt her stomach knot up. “And then what will happen?”

“I couldn’t say. It’s not something you can plan for. Tell me your take on this girl.”

Julie tossed her hands up. “I’ve thought about all sorts of things. An adjustment disorder, separation anxiety disorder, reactive attachment disorder? Asperger’s? Something to do with seeing Finn as a parental figure? And when he left, she felt that loss more profoundly than made sense. Her defense mechanisms got out of control? She has a chemical imbalance?”

“All possibilities. What else?” Dr. Cooley sat motionless, his eyes fixed on Julie’s, waiting patiently as she struggled to find an answer herself.

Julie wriggled her toes inside her shoes, hoping to distract herself from the increasingly uncomfortable feeling that was taking over. But one thought would not be pushed aside. “Something happened?”

He nodded. “Something happened. That’s my guess. Something quite major. Something you’ve clearly been told not to address. And this flat version of Celeste’s brother is an extreme response to an incident. A trauma.”

Julie stiffened. Trauma. She didn’t like the sound of that.

 Dr. Cooley continued. “The question is, what trauma? But that’s a question that you might not get the answer to. Julie, tread lightly,” he cautioned. “This is a precarious situation and you don’t know what exactly is going on in this family system. While I admire your compassion, I can’t recommend that you take on the task of trying to tackle this.”

“I know. I feel like I’ve been wracking my brain trying to understand this kid, and I have no clue if I’m about to do something that will set her off. But when Finn comes back, this should all clear up, right?”

Dr. Cooley clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Maybe, maybe not. Whatever is causing her anxiety may manifest itself in another way. His return could prompt a significant improvement, sure, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

This was a discouraging thought.

“But think about this,” he offered, “maybe you’re missing something obvious. Don’t overanalyze what you see. I have a feeling that you’re over-thinking things. Give it some time, and the pieces of this puzzle might come together.” He laughed. “Of course, they might not. This may be a family that you never fully understand.”

“Believe me, that thought has occurred to me.”

“And what do we know?” He laughed lightly. “Maybe they’re just unusual characters. Not everyone behaves in a traditional manner.”

“It would be nice if they were just quirky, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Unlikely, but nice. Julie, there’s another part of this story that I’m wondering about.”

Julie sighed. “What’s that?”

“You told me a lot about Matt, Finn, Erin, and Celeste.” He paused. “I haven’t heard much about the father.”

“That’s because he’s gone a lot. Traveling for work. I really like him, though. He’s gentle and soft-spoken. There’s something earnest about him. He’s very normal, but not in a boring way. Really sweet.”

“Hm,” Dr. Cooley murmured.

“What’s that mean?hat’s

“You said you were going home today. To see your mother.”

“Right. So?”

“What about your father? Will you see him, too?”

“You’re implying I have father issues?” Julie scoffed. “I don’t have father issues.”

Dr. Cooley sat silently.

“This is not about me.” Julie shook her head. “This is about a super quirky kid who needs me.”

“But why is it your job to help her? Why are you the fixer? Why are you the one who wants to put this family back together?”

“Because Celeste responds to me. I don’t know why, but she does. I can do this.”

Dr. Cooley took his glasses off and gently set them down on the table. “Who are you trying to heal?”

“Celeste.”

“Are you sure about that?”

 “Of course,” Julie said, slightly irritated. “This is not about me.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not entirely.”

Julie glanced at the clock on the desk. “I’m really sorry to cut you off, but I should leave now if I’m going to make my flight.”

“Of course.”

“I can’t thank you enough for talking to me,” she said sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a fascinating hypothetical family that you’ve told me about.” He winked. “Remember, Julie. Tread lightly.”

Chapter 14

Julie’s stomach churned while she watched her cousin Damian shovel marshmallow-topped yams into his mouth. She wanted to kill whomever had come up with the sickening idea of combining marshmallows with a perfectly likeable vegetable. As gross as that was, it didn’t compare to her aunt’s “salad”: Red Hot candies suspended in a green Jell-O mold, with carrot bits and canned mandarin orange slices. At least her mother’s turkey was devoid of anything offensive. That was something to be thankful for.

“Julie, why aren’t you wearing your pilgrim hat? You love the pilgrim hat!” Julie’s uncle Pete raised his voice to be heard over the table noise and pointed to his own. “It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving if you don’t wear the hat.”

Julie scanned the fourteen family members who sat at the table in her mother’s house in Ohio. Everyone there wore either a pilgrim hat or an Indian hat that had been purchased years ago at the costume shop on Delacorte Avenue. In other years, Julie had found this tradition amusing, but today the absurdity and idiocy had become undeniable. It was undignified. Not to mention the cultural offensiveness factor.

 “Consider me the rebellious relative who refuses to conform. I can’t say I’m a fan of supporting stereotypes.” Julie jabbed her fork into the heaping mound of green bean casserole. God, the canned fried onion smell alone was enough to give her indigestion for days.

“Pete, she doesn’t have to wear the hat if she doesn’t want to,” her mother said. Kate stood up and reached into the middle of the table for the cranberry sauce. The hideous white dish was painted with country houses. “My daughter is making a statement, I believe.” As she moved to sit back down, she tipped the paper turkey centerpiece to the side and into the candle flame, immediately turning the gaudy decoration into a fiery display. “Oh, hell!” Kate shrieked.