The Expansion of the Universe

Twenty-Seven | "What the hell is a mochi?"

"Will phones ever not be scary?" Liza asked Dr. Whitney later the following week, back in her condo with Milo settled against her on the floor by the couch.

Whitney raised a single eyebrow. "Do you believe it's the phone that is scary, or what it signifies?"

She scowled.

Damn her therapist for being so good at what she did.

With a sigh, she admitted, "It's what the phone signifies."

"People," Whitney mused, nodded. "The outside world. It's still a connection, only, less obvious than walking outside. Keep in mind, Liza, that you've already made significant progress with the phone; your phone call to Elijah is proof of that fact."

"Yeah," but, "I still can't call my mom."

Releasing a thoughtful hum, Whitney ran her thumb over her lower lip. "Don't forget: Success isn't one large leap—"

"It's a multitude of small jumps," Liza finished, nodding. "Right. I was able to call Elijah."

"Exactly. It's going to be a matter of working up to call those you know like your mother. You were speaking regularly to Elijah before you spoke with him over the phone, correct?"

"Yes."

"Then it is reasonable that calling him felt easier. You haven't spoken to your mother in any capacity in a longer period. What scares you most about calling her?"

They'd been through this conversation before, but Liza knew that Whitney would continue to guide her through it as many times as needed until Liza was able to grasp the truth of the situation. "The . . . well, the unknown." She chuckled derisively. "But you already knew that."

Giving nothing away, even though they both knew Liza was correct, Whitney simply smiled and nodded her head in encouragement for Liza to continue. "Part of me—the smarter part, I guess—knows that she'll just be happy to know that I'm still alive. She'll probably cry, and then I'll cry too, you know? And I'll feel guilty, and she'll pull a chapter out of your therapy book and remind me that trauma is trauma and I shouldn't feel guilty for things out of my control." She sucked in a long, steadying breath, running her hands over her face and her tangled hair. "But the more emotional, traumatized side of me just can't grasp that. I mean, surely she'll hate me, right? Even if it's a secret hate."

"Would you hate you?"

Liza sighed. "No," she grumbled. "No. I would feel sympathy, and horror, but not hate."

Whitney cocked her head sideways, adjusting her glasses with a single finger. "Then I suppose you've answered your own question."

She huffed, running a hand over Milo's back. "Is it ever exhausting to be so wise?"

The words actually managed to win a chuckle from her therapist. "No, but it certainly doesn't harm my reputation." Sobering, Whitney brought her face closer to her camera, catching Liza's gaze through the computer screen and holding it. "Have you called Elijah again, since that first time?"

Liza dropped her gaze, ashamed. "No." Granted, "There hasn't really been a reason to call him."

"Ah, because he's normally with you when he's not working," Whitney mused, her smile a bit smug and secretive, like she knew something that Liza didn't.

Frowning but choosing not to question the woman, Liza nodded. "Yeah, exactly."

"Does he stay over until late?"