Maya (Book #3)

Chapter 44

"I decided I like having brothers!" I announced when we got home. I made sure the door to Charlotte's office was shut behind me so that the boys wouldn't overhear. Charlotte leaned around her computer screen to smile at me as I fell onto the carpet and got comfy against my usual chair. I pulled down a throw blanket that was resting on the chair and threw it over my legs, before beaming up at her.

"I'm glad you had fun at the movie," she said as she shut down her computer and walked over. She always had time for me or made time for me. She never complained that I was annoying or excessive, she just listened. Sometimes I thought she enjoyed talking to me as much as I did her. She sat across from me on the carpet with surprising agility, back resting against her normal seat.

"Dominic told you we were going, right?" I asked nervously. She was taking a nap when we decided to leave, so Dominic said he would handle it.

"Yes, he sent me a text. Of course, I only saw the text when I realized the house was empty after waking up," she said, giving me a stern look. I picked at my nails as my stomach twisted. I didn't want to get in trouble. I just wanted to go out for a little with people I cared about.

"I'm sorry," I said, caving immediately. I peered up at her face to see her body relaxed and her breathing steady. Her hands were loose against the desk, not squeezed into fists with white knuckles or tapping impatiently on the rug. I could tell she wasn't furious with me.

"It's not safe, but I understand why you did it," she said with a sigh. "We can't keep you trapped in here forever! I just wish the police could find your uncle."

"Me too," I confessed, deciding to voice my fears. I didn't want them to trouble her, but I figured she would want to hear. "I feel like he's always watching me. When I'm in my room, or at a friend's house, or anywhere." My voice quivered unnecessarily, and I glared at myself internally. I didn't want to worry her! Despite this, I went on.

"Abuse feels so all-consuming. It changes everything about you from the way you dress to the physiological reactions you have to your experiences. It makes you feel like you can never be safe. You'll never be okay. As long as you live and they live, you are weak." I spat out, surprised at myself. The anger I didn't traditionally feel had sparked in me and I meant the words more than most that I said.

"I'm sorry it feels like that. I- I can understand... why you would feel that way," she said, dancing around her statement in an uncharacteristically dishonest way. There was more that she wasn't saying.

"You can?" I asked, poking to try and uncover the truth. She nodded silently with her eyes focused on me. They were too focused like she was trying to prove she wasn't lying, and they seemed clouded with something like fear. Was she afraid of the truth?

"Have you ever felt that way?" I asked, pressing further. She let out a chuckle and changed the course of our conversation.

"Would you mind if I changed the subject briefly?" she asked. I pouted, realizing she wasn't going to tell me her secret. She laughed and then added, "Before I tell you what I was going to?" I brightened immediately and nodded.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Maya," Charlotte said. "But I can't continue being your therapist if I'm going to be your guardian." Her eyes looked sad but hopeful. She knew this change was temporarily detrimental but would lead to a more permanent solution.

"That's okay," I replied, feeling nervous for the first time about the change in roles. "Will we still be like this?" I asked, motioning between the two of us. I tried to hide the meaning that was burning behind my voice. I didn't want her to realize how much she meant to me. It would hurt too much if it wasn't reciprocated.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a happy smile that told me she knew what I meant but wanted to hear it. I indulged her.

"I still want to be close to you. And talk to you." I said in a timid voice.

"You can talk to me any time you want. We just won't be having sessions anymore, like a therapist and client would." She said, taking a breath as if there were more to the story than I knew.

I gave her a look that told her I knew she was worried and wanted to know why. It was amazing the kind of conversations we had in our heads. What if that didn't ever happen anymore? Was that even possible?

"There are rules against this kind of thing for a reason, Maya. I never want to exploit you or harm you. I never intended to care about you as I do. I wanted to protect you, but I didn't factor adoption into that. I didn't become your therapist to try to deceive you into being a member of this family. Do you believe me?" she asked. I couldn't read her expression now. It was blurry as if she herself didn't know what she was feeling.

"I know that you care about me Charlotte. You always have. I don't think it's a bad thing that you're adopting me. You just want to have me in your family, right?"

She sighed with relief. "Right." She affirmed.

"You know you are absolutely brilliant." She said, shaking her head as if in disbelief. I tucked the blanket around my legs and tried not to blush. She couldn't fathom the way her compliments burrowed into my heart and became silent truths that I believed about myself.

"Guess who I get it from?" I teased her. I smiled at her with a love I hadn't remembered experiencing with any person before.

She pulled me back into our prior conversation with a simple question. "Do you still want to know when I've felt the way you feel?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as if she hoped the answer had changed.

I nodded my head and leaned forward, putting my elbows on my legs, and propping my head up so I could be closer.

"I'm not sure I know where to start," she said with a chuckle. Her cheeks had a tinge of pink to them and there was a line on her forehead between her eyebrows. She seemed troubled by the conversation, and I sensed that it was something she didn't enjoy sharing. I waited in silence as she often did during our sessions, to offer her space to process and share when she felt comfortable.

"Did I ever tell the story of why I became a therapist?" she asked, starting on a light note. I shook my head no, holding my breath eagerly.