Stand Alone (21 page)

“I told you she’s been out of control since she got back from the hospital. It doesn’t matter what I do for her or how firm I am with discipline, she just keeps escalating.”

“Has she been trying to comply with your requests?”

“Some of the time,” Em said reluctantly.

“Then, I think you’re going to have to give her skateboard back now.”

Em shook her head adamantly.

“That’s the only thing that motivates her. If I give it back, she’s not going to do anything I ask.”

“If you don’t give it back,” Dr. Morton said, “this whole thing is going to blow up in your face. She’s already at breaking point. Honestly, I’m surprised she made it this far and has only pushed you once. She’s talking about
  
…” he hesitated a moment, trying to decide how much to say, “…
 
a whole lot worse than that.”

“That’s just talk,” Em brushed it off.

“No. It’s not.” Dr. Morton considered the best way to convince Em of how serious he was. “If you’re not going to give her the skateboard back, I’m not going to be able to let her go home with you today. It would be irresponsible of me.”

“Not going to
  
…
 
?” Em echoed, looking stunned. “What do you mean, not going to let her go home with me? Where else would she go?”

“Foster home or psychiatric hold. Maybe just emergency respite today. But knowing her mental state, and that she’s fantasizing about
  
…
 
hurting you
  
…
 
Well, I couldn’t live with myself, if I let her hurt you.”

Em’s face was pure white. She shook her head in disbelief.

“She’s gotten bad before, but you’ve never suggested
  
…”

“Then you need to realize that I don’t do it lightly. If you give the board back, I think she’ll calm down, and be able to get back on track. But if you are determined to keep it away from her any longer, I’m going to have to intervene.”

“I was just doing what you said to. Setting consequences, setting up motivations, and sticking to it. Setting rules and being firm.”

Dr. Morton knew that consistency had been a problem for Em in the past. Now she was determined to persist in holding the skateboard hostage, even when doing so could be dangerous to her.

“You admit that you don’t want to give it back because she’ll just stop trying. So you’ve made it impossible for her to ever earn it back, and she knows it. She knows it’s hopeless, and she’s giving up.”

Em chewed the inside of her cheek, thinking about it. She finally nodded.

“If she’s giving up, then it’s not a motivation anymore anyway,” she mused. “I may as well give it back.”

“Do you want to go over some more appropriate rules and consequences together? So that you have something else to try?” Dr. Morton suggested.

Em sighed and shook her head.

“No, I’ll figure it out. Those things never really work for Justine.”

Dr. Morton turned to go back into the office where Justine was waiting. Then he paused, thinking through how it would play out.

“Is the board somewhere it can be easily retrieved?” he questioned.

“I’ll have to pick it up from the office.”

“Do you want to go get it now, and then come back for Justine?”

“Why?”

“I have her in a relaxed state right now. It won’t make any difference to her to have to wait. Once I bring her out, it probably won’t take long to escalate back to where she was before. If we have the board here to give to her, it would prevent her from escalating. You wouldn’t have to deal with any crap on the way over to get it, and I can facilitate and make sure she is okay before leaving.”

Em shrugged.

“Sure, that’s okay, I guess,” she agreed, “as long as it doesn’t mean I have to pay for a second session.”

“No, it will be included.”

Em nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she agreed, “I’ll go get it.”

Justine reluctantly became aware of Dr. Morton’s voice.

“Justine. Justine, it’s time to wake up now,” he urged her, his voice calm and soothing. Justine’s eyelids tightened, trying to keep consciousness from returning. Trying to stay in that place she had found where she could just float freely and not be anxious and upset. “It’s okay. You will wake up slowly, and stay calm. You will feel rested and positive.”

Justine shook her head, trying to stay under. But like holding her breath under water, eventually her body insisted on surfacing. She opened her eyes grudgingly and looked at Dr. Morton. He smiled, leaning forward toward her slightly.

“How are you doing?” he questioned softly.

Justine stretched, and massaged her neck. She’d fallen asleep with a crick in it. It cracked as she moved it around.

“Better,” she admitted.
 

She could breathe now. The headache was gone and her heart was no longer racing. She didn’t feel like the top of her head was ready to blow off. But as soon as she started thinking about Em, and going back home, her heart started to speed up again. Justine startled when she heard a noise behind her. Dr. Morton’s eyes flashed in that direction, and Justine turned around in her chair and saw that Em was in the room. Justine struggled to keep her expression blank, not to react with a snarl at the sight of her tormentor. Only a second or two passed before she saw her board in Em’s grip. Justine jumped to her feet.

“My board!”

She reached out, and Em handed it to her promptly. Justine expected her to pull it back, or to hold onto it tightly and still refuse to hand it over. Em simply let her have it. Justine hugged it to her body, her eyes hot with tears.

“I know you’ve really been trying,” Em said, her face reddening. “I probably should have given it back to you earlier. You worked at it really hard.”

Justine looked back at Dr. Morton, who nodded.

“You’ve really worked hard this week,” he said.

“I told you I did,” Justine pointed out.

“And I believed you.”

Justine ran her fingers lovingly over her skateboard.

“I’m going to skate from here,” she said.

Em frowned.

“You’re going to skate where? Home? It’s quite a ways from here,” she said doubtfully.

“I can do it,” Justine said, waving off her concern. “I’ve gone that far plenty of times.”

“You’ll go home, Justine?” Dr. Morton questioned. “We don’t want another
  
…
 
incident. You’ll just ride home from here?”

Justine nodded, heading for the door. Em started to protest, but Justine made tracks, pretending that she couldn’t hear Em. She finally had her board back, and no one was going to talk her out of doing anything but skating. Outside the professional building, she put her board down on the sidewalk and stepped on. She was flooded with a feeling of relief and joy. She kicked off and let herself feel the exhilaration of the ride.

Justine stopped at the playground, flipping her board to pick it up. She walked over to the playground equipment, stretching her legs. After being off of her board for a week, her muscles were more sore than usual. Justine rubbed her thighs and then climbed up on the slide.

“Are you going to slide down?” a little girl questioned, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” Justine agreed. “Why not?”

“You’re too big!” the girl laughed.

Justine shook her head.

“No, I’m not.”

She slid down the slide, and looked back at the little girl.

“See? I’m not too big,” she pointed out.

“Do you want to play?”

“Sure. What do you want to play?”

“Pirates,” the girl said instantly.

Justine shrugged.

“Okay, but we need more people for pirates.”

“My friends will play,” the girl motioned to include some of the other children were playing around the playground.

“See how many of them are going to play,” Justine suggested.

The little girl ran over to recruit who she could. Then they all crowded around Justine, screeching and babbling. Justine laughed. “I’ll be it the first time. Ten-nine-eight
  
…” The children immediately scattered, screeching. Justine played with them for a while, enjoying the game and being with the younger children, undemanding as they were. The kids her age didn’t play games any more. Not that kind of game.

After a few minutes, an older girl with a dirty blond mop of hair, probably the sister of one of the ones Justine was playing with, approached. She hadn’t participated in the game, mostly standing around the edges of the playground talking on her cell phone.
 

“Hey,” Justine greeted with a friendly smile, wondering if she wanted to join in.

“This park is for little kids,” the girl said with a scowl.

Justine shrugged.

“I’m playing with them,” she said. “We’re all having fun. Do you want to play?” Maybe the girl was feeling sad about being left out.
 

“It’s for little kids,” the blond repeated sternly. “You’re too old.”

Justine shrugged.

“I can play here if I want,” she maintained.

The girl folded her arms across her chest, looking at Justine belligerently.
 

“I’ll call my mom,” she threatened. “She’ll call the police, if you won’t leave.”

“The police?” Justine repeated in disbelief. “For what?”

“You’re a stranger,” the girl pointed out. “You’re not supposed to be playing here.”

“I’m just playing tag!”

“My mom says not to let any older kids touch them.”

Justine shook her head.

“I’m not!”

“You touched Billie-Jean,” she insisted. “I saw!”

Justine swallowed. That was all she needed now. Accusations of molesting little kids. She tried to explain.

“I didn’t
touch
them,” she repeated. “I tagged them. That’s not…
 
touching.”

“I saw,” the girl said again. “I’ll call my mom. She said not to let anyone—”
 

“Fine,” Justine interrupted. “I’ll go. But I never did anything.”

The girl just stood there with arms folded, waiting for her to leave. Justine went to the edge of the playground and grabbed her board. She glanced back sadly at her playmates as she walked back to the path. She stepped onto her board, and skated away.

C
HAPTER
10

J
USTINE
OPENED
THE
DOOR
and slipped into the house, listening to see where Em was and what she was doing. The TV in the living room was on. Justine crept past the doorway, but Em looked up at the wrong moment.

“Oh, there you are. I didn’t hear you come in. How are you feeling, sweetie?”

Justine stood there and looked at Em. Em looked calm and comfortable. She was already in her pajamas and had on fuzzy slippers. All signs that she would be in a relaxed and generous mood. Justine trusted Em’s cheerful moods even less than her angry ones.

“Fine,” Justine growled at her, heading off further conversation. “I’m going to my room.”

She walked away from the doorway. But she took a detour before going up to her room, stopping in the kitchen and rifling through the fridge for something edible. Em got up.

“I’m going to order in.”

Justine jumped, hitting her head on the ceiling of the refrigerator. She swore and grabbed her head, fighting back tears of pain.

“Oh honey, are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you jump. Your poor head. Do you want me to get some ice?”

Em moved in closer, raising a hand to touch Justine’s head. But Justine pulled back, not letting her get too close.

“No, and I don’t want you to kiss it better,” Justine snarled. “Just stay away from me.”

Em dropped her hands and stood there looking hurt. But there was no audience, and Justine wasn’t playing along with this new little performance.

“What are you ordering in?” Justine questioned, rubbing the painful bump forming on the back of her head. She winced at a stab of pain. Justine turned and got a jug of juice out of the fridge, as if that was what she had been looking for in the first place. She poured herself a glass of juice and took a long sip.

“Pizza,” Em answered.

Justine looked at her, lowering her brows in distrust. Em cocked her head and stood there, her whole body a wide shrug that said: ‘What, why don’t you trust me?’

“Real pizza?” Justine questioned, not believing it for a minute.

“I don’t know where you can order in healthy pizza,” Em laughed. “Maybe I could find a place with a gluten-free crust and just put vegetables on it, but
  
…”

“Is that what you did?”

“No. I ordered from Tony’s. Hawaiian and pepperoni, just like you like.”

“Tony’s. Tony’s over on fourteenth.”

“You like them the best, don’t you?”

Justine nodded. Em waited expectantly. Looking for a ‘thank you,’ or at least a smile of gratitude.

“Why?” Justine demanded. “You changed your mind about the whole diet thing, now?”

“No
  
…
 
but Dr. Morton agrees that it probably isn’t worth pursuing right now. The strict diet. But we’re still going to try to eat healthy. Lots of fresh fruits and veggies, no junk food at home, not eating out any more than we can help
  
…”

“So this pizza is healthy?” Justine questioned. “It doesn’t count as junk food?”

Em squirmed and twisted her face into a sort of a guilty grimace.

“Well, it’s sort of a celebration. We don’t want to do it very often, but every now and then it’s okay. It’s not junk food like pop and chips. It still is
  
…
 
it’s bread, and tomato sauce, those are good for you.”

“Huh.”

Justine drank her juice. She left the dirty glass on the counter and completed the journey upstairs, shutting her door behind her to keep Em out. So, now that Em had lost the leverage of the skateboard, she was back to trying to win Justine with food and nice behavior. Justine had seen plenty of this before. It never ended well. Sooner or later, the mood always broke, and Em screamed like a banshee and undid everything that she had done that was nice. Justine knew it wouldn’t last. Best to just ride it out and not get her hopes up.