Stronger than You Know (4 page)

SIX

Seriously, am I moving backward?

We're all in a group session with Lydia. My whole extended family. And it's about as awesome as it sounds. Mostly it's just one more way I'm messing with their lives and another thing that weighs me down with guilt.

“Why don't you like these?” Lydia asks me. “Our group chats. I'd think it would be perfect for you because you're not the focus.”

“Because everyone has to be here.” How is that not the most obvious thing in the world?

“Do you not want them here?” she asks.

“It's not that I don't want them here.” I shake my head. I can't believe she's asking me these questions in front of them.

“You know I'm going to ask you what the problem is.”

I'm not looking at her, but I can picture her now. She has on her serious face.

I don't want to see it so I look at my hands clasped together on my lap and let my hair hide my face. “It's that they already had to adjust their lives, and this just sort of adds to the pile of adjustments.”

Tara leans forward to look at me through my blanket of hair. “It's totally fine.”

I catch Trent's smirk out of the corner of my eye. To me it says he might mind a little bit. He flips his phone over and over. No way he wants to be here.

These sessions are the only times I sit in a chair. If I were on the couch for family days, I'd be pressed against someone else.

Lydia talks to Trent and Tara. I don't hear what they discuss. I'm not into it. I'm just tired.

“Joy?” Lydia's voice again.

“What?” I lift my face just enough to see her through my hair.

“Do you want to tell them the two things I asked you to do?”

“No.” One of them involves talking to Uncle Rob. I only sort of did that.

There's silence. Perfect. They're waiting for me.

I let out a loud sigh. One that I hope says I'm not happy about doing this.

“One thing was that I was supposed to talk to someone from my school. I let him walk with me and then talked to him later.”

Having to share this with everyone sort of ruins my proud moment. It's such a lame thing to be excited about.

“And the other?”

“I wrote about going to school.”

Lydia frowns. This isn't the assignment she was referring to.

I pray she doesn't say anything. I don't want to hurt Uncle Rob's feelings. He seems like a really nice guy. It would suck if he knew that he's on my list of crazy.

“Maybe this week? It's your birthday this week,” she prompts.

I nod.

“Sixteen.” Aunt Nicole smiles. “We want to do something special but don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Then let's just not do anything. Is that okay?” I tilt my head to look at Aunt Nicole. I don't want a party or anything. My birthday in the past was simply an excuse for Mom to invite people over for a party. A Mom-party was never a kid-appropriate party. I remember two years that she forgot my birthday. Those are still my two favorite birthdays. The house was quiet, and I didn't have to wish to disappear after her friends drank too much.

“Well, maybe we could concede and do something
small
? Just our family?” Her voice sounds so …
hopeful
.

“I still …”
can't eat in the same room
. But I keep that to myself.

I feel Lydia's eyes on me. “Joy, what if you let them just do cake? Maybe that would be something you could manage. And then you could try to think about something else you'd like to do with them, maybe later on.” She takes a relaxing breath. It's fabulous that
someone
in here is relaxed. Though Trent's lounging on the end of the couch and sort of staring off into space, so maybe he is too.

“A movie?” Maybe we could watch a movie and then I could eat my cake and not feel like they're looking at me.

“Would you like to go
out
to a movie?” Aunt Nicole's hopeful voice is back.

“Oh …” I shake my head. “No …” No way. What's wrong with me? We're talking about going to the movies. People do it all the time. I just don't want to sit next to anyone. It seems sort of impossible. It also seems impossible to ignore how many people would be there. Going to a movie and staring at the floor like I do in school sort of defeats the purpose.

The room is silent for a moment. “I'm sorry.” My eyes are filling with tears. “I'm so …”
broken
.

“You don't have to be sorry, Joy.” Lydia's shaking her head.

“I'd still rather pretend my birthday doesn't exist.” I concentrate on letting my breath out slowly, hoping to hold in my tears.

“Tara and Trent, why don't you two step outside and I'll send the rest of the family out in a minute,” Lydia says.

Trent swings his tall body up and shuffles toward the door. Tara stands up behind him. She gives me a small wave as she passes.

“Why do we have to drag them in here?” I ask as the door closes behind them. “I'm sure they don't like it.”

“And I know how you feel about it.” Lydia looks at me over her notebook with a half smile. “They're only here sometimes, and it's important for them to have some understanding of how difficult things can be for you.”

I start to say something else, but Uncle Rob's still in the room, and I'm not sure how much I'm ready to talk around him. I clamp my mouth shut.

“How are you two doing?” Lydia asks.

I know without taking my eyes off my lap that she's talking to Uncle Rob.

“Well, I'm sure when Joy and I can chat a bit, we'll have a lot in common,” he says. “She plows through her homework the way I used to.” His voice is soft and kind. “We exchanged a few words the other night.”

Now I'm glad Lydia will know I did both things on my list without me bringing it up again.

Uncle Rob sounds so nice, but even now I can't bring myself to look at him. Deep voices still hit me in places I don't want to think about.

“Well, Joy and I need a few minutes alone, and then I'll let you all go.”

Aunt Nicole and Uncle Rob stand up and walk out. I finally relax into the chair.

“I got your email about talking to the boy at school,” Lydia says to me. “That's pretty cool. And school. You know I was against you starting up, but you're surviving it. Your letter to me about the difference between now and when you started was great. I hope the assignment made it more obvious to you how much things are going in a good direction.”

“Thanks.” My eyes find hers for the first time today.

“I don't have to ask why Rob scares you.”

I'm silent and try not to think about the same thing, but I can almost feel the rough hands on my waist, the knife against my neck, the whispered threats. I suck in a breath and press my fingers on the bridge of my nose as my body starts to shake.

“Joy. Look at me.”

The stubble down my neck, the slice of pain when I whimpered and the knife dug in farther.

Lydia moves and her hand gently touches my wrist, making me jump. “Where were you?”

“The last place I want to be.”

She smiles softly. “Keep your eyes on me for a moment, okay?”

I do because I like Lydia's round face and bright smile, and I know it'll keep me in the here and now.

“What brought you back there?”

“Uncle Rob. When you said …” I trail off, knowing she'll know.

“I can see your breathing already slowing back down.” Her voice is mellow, quiet, and calm. “Remember shutting your eyes makes it worse. Try to force them open. To take in your surroundings when you find yourself there again, okay?”

I nod and swallow, trying to push away the fear, but its grip on me is solid.

“When I talk to your aunt and uncle without you, I can tell the love they have for you is the real thing. I want you to remember that. We can hold off on talking to Rob. Okay?”

My shoulders relax in relief, and they ache—a sign I'm even tenser today than normal. “Okay.”

“And I'll let your aunt know that you should get the backseat to yourself on the drive home. Would that help?”

I nod, grateful, relieved, and feeling like I should be able to handle sharing a car with Uncle Rob. But in this moment, I care a lot more about having a seat to myself than how well I'm doing with the family.

“Your goal this week is to have cake and enjoy the movie, all right?”

“Fine.” I let out a long breath. At least this goal feels possible.

“I'm just torturing you here, aren't I?” She chuckles. “No writing assignments this week. I promise.”

“Okay.” But now I make sure our eyes don't connect—sometimes it's just easier to avoid her hopes for me that way. She doesn't understand that I don't know how to move forward the way she wants me to.

“It's because I know that you, more than a lot of girls I see, have a chance at a really amazing life,” she says. “You're smart. I know you're worried about being afraid of people right now. But the girls who come in here and freely talk about things and are okay out in social settings after an ordeal like yours, do all right but not as well as someone like you can. They're the ones that
seem
okay when they really aren't. You're going to start breaking free from this, Joy, and when you do, life's going to be good to you.”

The thing is, she has no idea if life will be good to me or not. None. A lot of my life still depends on the people around me and I have no idea how to be around them. Or even if I want to be. Learning how to feel normal is a hard thing to believe in.

“Please, just cake, no singing.” I wasn't able to eat a bite of dinner because I was anxious about this very thing.

The problem is that I know Aunt Nicole worked hard on my cake today. I know Tara helped her decorate it. And I know they're all here for me. So guilt over all of this holds me here. I'm trapped.

“Nobody likes the singing.” Trent laughs. “You can suffer with the rest of us.”

“Trent.” Aunt Nicole shakes her head.

“I just think everyone's being a little too careful. That's all.” He shrugs.

At least I don't have to wonder if he's sparing my feelings.

They sing happy birthday to me. I force my eyes to stay open, because if I let them close, I'd see a different set of people. I wish for the floor to swallow me whole.

My shoulder rests against the wall as I watch
Pirates of the Caribbean
. Uncle Rob and Trent keep commenting on how awesome the picture is on the new TV. A flat, black monstrosity attached to the wall. I've never seen this movie, but Trent and Uncle Rob swear it's one of the best movies of all time.

I still can't bring myself to eat my cake. It looks so good, and it's just sitting on my plate. Everyone else has finished theirs. Uncle Rob and Tara even had seconds. Not me. Eating is such a stupid thing to have a problem with. Who gets weirded out about eating in front of people? It shouldn't be a big deal. I mean, logically I
know
it shouldn't be a big deal. People do it all the time. At home, at restaurants, at school.

I slide a bite off the pile of chocolate with my fork. Now I just have to get it to my mouth. Easy. Everyone's watching the movie. The scene is intense. The music is intense. My timing is perfect. I take the bite and it's as good as it smells. I let the chocolate flavor fill my mouth when I suddenly feel watched. Everything in me stops. Trent's staring.

It takes all the self-control I have not to spit out the cake. My stomach clenches up. I set my plate on the floor, lean against the wall, and return my eyes to the screen. Maybe I'll eat some later.

I'm lying in my white bed, staring at the blank ceiling. I had one bite of cake. The rest is downstairs. I may wait until I think everyone's asleep. Or I could pack myself some in my lunch tomorrow and then find somewhere to hide at school so I can eat it.

“Trent.” Uncle Rob's voice carries through the walls. Even his quiet one. “I know you're just trying to be yourself here, and I'm glad, but …”

“Sorry, I just feel like we could shake it out of her and she'd start hanging out with us like normal.” Trent's voice is full of frustration.

“You don't understand.” His voice is so smooth, warm. “She didn't have a normal. Her mom kept her inside almost all the time. She didn't go out. She didn't go to school. She suffered the kinds of abuse you can't even imagine. All the literature we were given to help her out was stuff that has to do with kids raised in cults. This is how much of an adjustment she's going through.”

“What happened to her?” he asks.

“My guess is that if you can imagine it, she probably went through it. What's important now is for you and all of us to have some patience and understanding and know that the best thing to do is be friendly and not push her to do things she's not comfortable with.”

“Okay.” But Trent's voice makes it sound like it isn't okay. Like he's just playing along because he has to.

“Night, Trent.”

“Night, Dad.”

I don't know about what he said, about imagining things … I can imagine some pretty bad things. Some things that didn't happen to me. I don't want to think about the things that did, but now they're running through my head.

The laughing at the beginning of the evenings. That's when I'd get an occasional cigarette put out on my back. But later in the evening? That's when I'd close the door to my room and hope they'd forget I was there—it only worked sometimes.

And the day after something like that was always a time to be quiet. Silent. I'd sit in my room and read and reread all the schoolbooks that came to me in the mail for home school. By the end of the year I'd read everything many times. There was no other way to get books. Not that I knew of.