Need You Now (29 page)

Tuesday morning, Darlene was surprised when Brad stayed home from work and said he was going with her to take Grace to see Dr. Brooks. It was going to be a long morning since Dr. Brooks had blocked out two hours for their first visit.

They'd had pancakes as usual on Sunday after church. Then, on Monday, while Brad was at work, Darlene and the kids had cleaned out the attic. In addition to boxes they'd stored up there after moving in, there were crates and other items left from when Darlene's grandparents lived there.

Grace had claimed a vintage lamp that Darlene could remember from her great-aunt's house when she was little. She had no idea how it had gotten into her grandparents' attic. Chad had found some old records of hers and Brad's from high school. And Ansley had wanted some old photo albums to keep in her room.

Darlene's attic find was a small jewelry box. She'd almost missed it since it was mixed in with her grandfather's old work clothes. The gray slacks and matching shirts brought back memories of when Darlene would visit. For over thirty years, her grandfather had driven a tractor for the county, mowing long stretches of grass along the highway. When he got home, her grandmother would make him sit in a chair on the porch, and she'd carefully pick off any ticks that had hitched a ride home with him. Darlene smiled at the recollection. Most of the time, she and Dale were running around the yard capturing fireflies in a glass jar as their grandmother worked on their grandpa on the porch.

But the small wooden jewelry box wasn't something she ever remembered seeing. It had only one item inside—a delicate sterling silver necklace with a dove pendant. She couldn't recall her mother or grandmother ever wearing that piece of jewelry. Her first thought had been to give it to Grace since Ansley wasn't very fond of jewelry, but she hadn't wanted to risk hurting Ansley's feelings. Darlene had put the necklace on right away, knowing the dove was symbolic of the Holy Spirit and hoping it would give her strength. The dove's wings were tarnished, though, so as soon as she could find her silver polish—probably in an unpacked box in the den—she'd give the necklace a thorough cleaning.

There had been lots of reminiscing that afternoon. Then they'd finally gotten down to actually cleaning out all the trash and things they didn't want. It had been a good day with the kids. It was a shame Brad couldn't have shared the experience, but he rarely took off from work—with the exception of this morning.

They still hadn't said much to each other since their dinner at the restaurant, and Darlene knew that today would likely bring on even more tension. She'd been praying that Dr. Brooks could fix whatever was wrong with Grace and keep her daughter from hurting herself.

Not long after they arrived at the office, they met with Dr. Brooks for an introductory session. She wasn't anything like Darlene had pictured in her mind. She was dressed in blue jeans and a white button-down blouse that hung loosely around her hips, and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Tiny silver loops hung from her earlobes, and Darlene could feel some of her anxiety lessen in the woman's presence.
That must be her intent
.

During this first part of their appointment, Darlene had filled out paperwork, and they'd talked about family history and the purpose for Grace's visit. They'd also discussed patient confidentiality, which was something Darlene had wondered about. As it turned out, Brad and Darlene had a legal right to information about Grace's therapy sessions because she was a minor, but they opted for Grace to keep the visits confidential. Dr. Brooks said that was fine unless Grace showed imminent signs of harm to herself or others. At that point, both Grace and Darlene had teared up, but somehow they got through the first part of the appointment. Next, it would be Grace's turn to talk with the doctor alone, but first they took a fifteen-minute break.

Grace and Darlene went to the ladies' room and got a drink of water, then returned to the waiting room to sit with Brad until Dr. Brooks was ready for Grace. Her hands shaking, Grace sat between Darlene and Brad. Darlene would have given anything to swap places with her daughter. Nothing hurt a parent more than seeing their child suffering, but this paled in comparison to walking into Grace's room and seeing her hands, sheets, shirt, and shorts covered in blood.

She closed her eyes for a moment but was jarred back to the present when Dr. Brooks called Grace's name.

“It's gonna be fine, Grace,” Brad said as Grace stood up. “We'll be right here if you need us.”

Brad pressed his lips together, and Darlene thought he seemed more uptight than Grace. She reached for her daughter's hand and squeezed. “Your dad's right, baby.”

Grace moved slowly toward the open door, and once it closed behind her, the minutes began to tick by. With every second, Brad became more and more agitated. He shifted his weight constantly, aimlessly flipped through magazines without reading anything, and if he let out another exasperated breath, Darlene thought she might snap.

“It's been over an hour,” he finally said, tossing a magazine onto the nearby table. He leaned his head back against the wall and sighed.

“I'm sure everything is fine.” Darlene was antsy enough without having to worry about Brad.

He glared at her. “You don't know that.”

Darlene didn't want to argue. She was worried about Grace, but she believed she was in good hands. Myrna wouldn't have recommended someone she didn't think would be good for Grace.

She and Brad were quiet for a while. Darlene reached up and stroked the dove between her fingers. “Maybe we should pray.”

Brad's eyebrows narrowed, his voice defensive. “I do pray. All the time.”

“I know . . . I just—just thought maybe we could pray together. Now.” Except for prayers before meals, she couldn't recall her and Brad ever praying aloud together. Darlene had prayed aloud with the kids at bedtime when they were young, but even the children had taken to saying their own prayers. Or at least she hoped they did.

“Yeah, I guess we can.” Brad bowed his head, and Darlene swallowed back tears before she began.

“God, please lay Your healing hands on Grace and help her to lean on You during these troubled times. She's so young, Lord, so . . . so precious to us.” Darlene bit her bottom lip, overcome with emotion. She was glad when Brad took over.

“Dear Lord, please be with our baby girl. Wrap Your loving arms around her, and help her to heal. Please give Darlene and me the knowledge and strength to be good parents to all of our children. Amen.”

“Amen.” A tear rolled down Darlene's cheek, and when she glanced at Brad, he looked the other way. But she'd seen his watery eyes.

A few minutes later, the door slowly opened. Darlene could tell that Grace had been crying, but she mustered up a weak smile anyway. “Don't look so worried. I'm okay.” She edged closer. “Dr. Brooks wants to see you both in her office.” Grace sat down beside Darlene. “I told her it was okay to talk to you about everything.”

“Are you sure, honey? Because you can keep this between just you and Dr. Brooks.” Darlene put a hand on Grace's leg.

“I'm sure, Mom.”

Darlene noticed that Grace's hands weren't shaking as she reached for a magazine. When Darlene and Brad hesitated, Grace spoke up again. “I promise. I'm fine.”

Darlene and Brad stood and walked down the hall, back into the large room with dark blue couches and wingback chairs. Darlene had noticed earlier that the room was painted a soothing powder blue, almost the same color as the classroom at The Evans School. She took a deep breath and focused on the scenery outside the windows. One wall was almost entirely windows, and through them, she could see a field of wildflowers and Longhorns.

Dr. Brooks asked them to take a seat on the dark blue couch as she sat in one of the wingback chairs across from them. She crossed her legs, set her pad and pen on a table next to her, and smiled. “Grace is a lovely girl.”

Darlene and Brad forced smiles and waited for her to go on.

“I know that Grace's cutting has stirred up a lot of emotions and worry for both of you, and I'm going to do my best to answer your questions and try to explain to you why I think Grace is doing this.”

Darlene held her breath as she nodded.

“Let me start out by addressing the biggest fear I often hear from parents.” She smiled, glancing back and forth between Darlene and Brad. “Cutters are rarely trying to kill themselves. I'm not going to say it hasn't happened, but not one of my patients has fallen into that category, and I've counseled a lot of kids like Grace.

“Cutting is usually triggered by intense feelings that the person can't express in ways that the rest of us do. Some of us yell, some cry, or maybe we go for a run, or eat a gallon of ice cream.” She paused, again glancing back and forth between Darlene and Brad. “When a person can't express these feelings of anger, hurt, frustration, or even shame, they feel like they are out of control, and the only way to regain control for some of them is to cut. It's a release for them and a way to focus on something besides the things that are hurting them in other ways. Does this make sense?”

Darlene nodded, even though it didn't make much sense to her at all.

“What is hurting Grace so badly that she feels the need to do this?” Brad shook his head. “I just don't get it. Is it because of her breakup with her boyfriend back in Houston?”

Dr. Brooks smiled, something Darlene now wished she would quit doing. “Things started before the move, but seem to have worsened due to the breakup with her boyfriend and anxiety about relocating.”

Darlene put a hand to her chest as she wondered how long Grace had been able to keep this a secret. Her eyes filled with water, and she turned to Brad and said the first thing that came to mind. “I wasn't working then, Brad, so my two months' working outside of our home didn't cause this.”

“Darlene, I never said this was your fault.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I never said it was your fault—it just came out that way, and—”

“Darlene, Brad . . .” Dr. Brooks interrupted. “This is not your fault. I've seen plenty of cases of abuse, alcoholism, and neglectful parenting that have triggered this, but I don't sense any of that from Grace. She just can't express her feelings and”—she paused, glancing back and forth between them—“Grace wants to be perfect. She doesn't want to disappoint anyone.”

Darlene felt her heart beating in her chest as guilt flooded over her. How many times had they called Grace their perfect little girl? She lowered her forehead into her hand, dabbed at her eyes.

“So it is our fault.” Brad rubbed his forehead, looking down. “We've somehow been bad parents.” He turned to Darlene. “You were home with her most of the time. Didn't you notice anything?”

Darlene stopped breathing for a moment, then spoke slowly and steadily, hoping to cut him to the core. “And you were never home. Not to mention that you have always told her how perfect she is. It's hard always living up to your expectations.”

Brad's face turned bright red, but Dr. Brooks interjected before he could speak.

“Okay, folks. We're getting off track here. Our goal is not to place blame, but to help Grace deal with the pressures in her life in some other way besides cutting.”

“How can cutting yourself until you bleed make you feel better? Why would anyone do that?” Brad's voice was hoarse, his tone critical.

Dr. Brooks uncrossed her legs, placed her elbows on her knees, and leaned her chin on her hands. “This is more common for girls. Usually it starts out as an experiment, or maybe even because other girls at school are doing it. But if the person is able to mask other emotional pain by cutting, it can become a habit. And habits are hard to break. But we are going to work with Grace, let her know that no one expects her to be perfect, and that there are other ways to release the stress she feels in her life.

“Grace is going to have some scars, both emotional and physical, but her willingness to stop is a huge plus. Some of the young ladies I treat don't have a desire to quit. They're just here because someone found out and forced them into my office. Grace seems to sincerely want to stop.”

Darlene coughed, sniffled. “Is she—does she—have anything mentally wrong with her?”

“Your aunt Helen was schizophrenic.” Brad shifted on the couch to face Darlene.

“That doesn't mean anything,” Darlene snapped.

“No, it doesn't,” Dr. Brooks said. “Although a history of mental illness can play a part in some cases. With Grace, recent events in her life led to depressed emotions that she didn't know how to cope with, which led to some difficulty adjusting in Round Top.” She sat taller. “I'd like to see Grace once a week, and I think we can work through this. She won't be cured overnight, but we have to reprogram her to understand that no one expects perfection and that there are other ways to deal with her emotional pain.”

“What emotional pain?” Brad's voice was louder than before. “She broke up with the guy, but prior to that, what emotional pain has she had? Something we don't know about? She's had a loving family, a good home, good grades, and she's a beautiful girl. I still don't understand.”