Senior Stories: Gillian Lombart

12. Face to Face

The counselor at the rehab had suggested to Billy that he and Gillian should have private sessions with the therapist to discuss their fears of Jeff coming back home. It was day 13 of a 21-day program and time was flying by. The kids and Billy had finally gotten into a routine, with the help from Judy and the neighbor Mrs. Sighn dropping off meals and picking up the baby.

Gillian was furious when Billy told her that they she needed to meet with her father for the first time in over a week. Jeff had been at the first family session but little conversation between father and daughter passed.

“Do I really have to go?” Gillian pleaded looking at her uncle with puppy dog eyes. “I could stay here and watch the kids. You should go.”

“It is something that is mandatory. You have to go. It’s to help with the transition of when your dad gets home.”

“Everything’s fine. I don’t know why you are making a big deal out of it. He will just come home and life will go on.”

“But it will be different. Things have changed Gillian. Not only will your dad be sober, but he will be here.”

 “Yeah? He was here before, it isn’t like it made much of a difference,” anger was beginning to swelling Gillian’s voice. “What is he suppose to come home and pick off where mom left off? Are they making him into a super dad?”

“No. That is not the point, the point is to find out what you want from him and what he can give.”

“Well I want my old dad back,” Gillian’s voice was thick with tears. She stormed off into her bedroom and slammed the door.

Billy was feeling like he wasn’t up to dealing with a crying teenager, but went after her anyway.

He stood at her pale blue door; there were stickers from when she was a child all over the doorframe. The door held three taped up pieces of paper, the first was an illustration of her name in what looked like charcoal. The letters were boxy and had harsh lines that exaggerated the corners. The second piece of paper was a photocopy of Gillian standing arms draped around a boy. “Must be the boyfriend, or ex boyfriend.” Billy thought. The third paper was a print out of college application deadlines, the corners torn and the paper looked like it had been crumbled up and straightened out.

Billy knocked. Only to hear a muffled “What?” from the other side of the door.

“Gillian can I come in?”

“Sure, but I am naked.”

Billy turned the brass doorknob and let himself in. Gillian was lying on a perfectly made bed clutching a pillow to her chest. Billy felt his heart break; she looked just like her mother. He sat down on the edge of his bed.

“Listen kid, did your dad ever tell you about grandma and grandpa.”

“No, he just said that they died before I was born. And that grandpa died when he was in college.”

“He never mentioned how.”

Gillian shook her head. Billy struggled with what he was about to tell her, but he knew that this would help.

“Your grandfather was a drunk. I mean,” Billy, corrected knowing that he had used the wrong word, “he was an alcoholic and died because he drank too much.”

Gillian sat up. She looked at the man sitting on her bed with skepticism.

“Dad didn’t tell me about that. Are you sure?”

“Your father doesn’t like anyone talking about it, especially since grandpa is such a special man to so many people. And because your dad is ashamed of how we grew up.” Billy chose to let Jeff tell her about their mother.

“If grandpa was a drunk does that mean that Dad is going die?”

“Let’s not use the word drunk.” Billy said. “And no your dad is not going to die, but he is going to have a hard time adjusting to being home. And so are you.”

“I wish he never lost his job,” Gillian said. “If I had just,”

Billy cut her off. “This is not your fault, this is not your dad’s fault. It is just something that happens. Please don’t try to blame someone, it will only make the hurt last longer. Trust me.”

“You really want me to go to the therapy session.”

“It will do you tons of good. And it will help you understand why you feel so overwhelmed with this situation.”

“I am not overwhelmed,” Gillian said defensively. “I am just stressed out about school and,” she paused looking for words to replace the ones about to spill out “the house being so messy.”

“Sure kid the house is filthy, so filthy you can eat off the floor,” Billy smiled at her. “Come on get your things and I will drop you off at the rehab for your session. You are going to go right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Gillian got off her bed and began gathering things into her purse. Opening her phone before she put it into her bag, she sent a text.

Gillian: FroYo?

Matt: Time?

Gillian: I will txt wen get home, gonna be long nite.

Matt: K. Breathe babe

Gillian felt better with that last text, though Matthew’s causal toss out of ‘babe’ made the shame of reaching out to him bubble up inside.