I'm Fine

16

Therapy went well, for me. For Dad, that's a different story.

"I just don't get it, Eve."

"Get what, Dad?" I ask.

We've been at the house for approximately an hour, doing nothing. He's been sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands for the past fifteen minutes.

"They said I'm doing fine, but I feel like shit." He sighs loudly before scooting the chair back. "Maybe I should check into rehab, as well."

"Dad, if that's what you want, I'll support you. But have you been completely honest with the therapist?" I ask as I sit beside his chair.

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, no. I don't know. I've got so much to say, and now that I have someone to listen, I don't know what to say." He slowly sits back down in the chair and stares into the distance. "Is this what you felt like?"

"No, I was way worse. Dad, my boyfriend found me nearly dead in my room, in a pool of blood. I don't know how it could get any worse than that," I say with a sigh.

"Evelynn, I need your mother home. I think I'm gonna go get her." Dad grabs the car keys from the counter.

"Dad, no." I quickly rush to step in front of him. "Dad, it'll only make things worse. You're doing well in therapy. You just need to tell your therapist everything. I have been, and I've been feeling a lot better."

"Evelynn, your mother was my therapist. She listened." His voice cracks and trembles.

"Dad, Mom didn't care. She used it against me. I swear you'll get through this. Please, don't give up on me. I didn't give up on you, you can't give up on me." I give my dad a hug and wait for him to reply.

I feel my shoulder get wet and I realize my dad is crying.

"Dad," I whisper. I hug him tighter to know everything is okay.

We sit there in the kitchen floor for a while. I don't move a muscle. I just hold my dad as he cries.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He says as he pushes me gently. "I need some water."

"I got it," I stand and get a glass of water for him. "Here," he accepts the water and downs it.

"Thank you."

"Yeah, of course." I say.

I've began to think my mom was the problem with the family.

She was the wedge.

Of course, I love her.

But maybe some time away from each other would do all parties good.