Senior Stories: Gillian Lombart

13. So This is Therapy

For once in her life Gillian felt like she was standing in front of a room full of people, though there were only two other people in the room, pressuring her to say something. She was not going to be able to melt from the room, a trait that she was proud of, this time. There was no escaping.

“Gillian your uncle tells me that things have been chaotic in your house since your mother left,” said the therapist as she opened a black notebook. “I want you to know that what every you say to me or your uncle in this room will not make it back to your parents.”

Gillian looked straight ahead and focused on the bookcase behind the therapist. It was filled with books all about drug addiction, sexual abuse, and children. Her thoughts drifted to the evil things that can lurk behind closed doors. She had it easy; her father was only a drunk. 

“If it will make you feel better let me tell you a bit about my childhood.”

Gillian’s eyes shifted from the bookcase to the therapist’s face. “I guess so,” she shrugged.

“Well when I was your age my parents were drinkers. Back then it was okay for people to come home and have a cocktail or two after work. They said they were just having fun,” she paused and looked at Billy. “But at some point for some people drinking doesn’t always equal fun. It goes quickly from something that was fun to something that is not fun, and they get sick.” She was looking back at Gillian. “Your father is really sick. Do you get that? He loves you, he is just sick.”

Tears began to silently stream down Gillian’s face. She knew deep down in her heart that her parents loved her, she just didn’t understand why they showed it in such horrible ways.

 “I just can’t just sit there and let them waste away.” Gillian said. “I need to help them out. It’s not the big deal that everyone is making it out to be. I have been taking care of everything for a while now, and it’s not like anyone noticed or anything.”

The therapist looked up from her notebook and spoke softly.

“Gillian it is not the job of the child to take care of the parent. In situations like yours children tend to step in and do the adult’s job. Take on responsibilities that are not theirs,” the therapist was leaning toward Gillian. “Are you mad at your parents?”

Gillian struggled with her feelings, looking toward her uncle across the room for help. He raised his eyebrow at her. “Well Gills, are you?”

“I mean what kind of mother just leaves her kids,” the anger and resentment began to bubble up. “She doesn’t care about what I want. She doesn’t care what anyone wants but herself.”

“Gillian do you think your mom left because she wanted to?” the therapist asked. “Do you think that she likes being away from her children?”

Gillian thought for a second about all the times her mother tried to get a job in town. She remembered the long arguments between her parents at night, when the thought she was asleep. The car getting repossessed was the last straw. Gillian recalled her mom crying sitting on the curb in front of the house, shaking her head as she fumbled with the car keys in her hand. It was from that day on that her mom extended her job search outside of California.

“No I don’t think she left us to party or something, but she did leave.” Gillian squeaked. “I guess I just miss her, even if I am mad at her.”

“Gills this is progress,” Billy leaned over taking her hand. “You need to let the anger out. Keeping it bottled up like this is not good for you kiddo.”

Gillian’s anger filled the room and the occupants shifted in their seats to make room for her rage. Everyone’s head turned when there was a small knock at the door.

As soon as Jeff walked into the room, Gillian’s vocal anger turned into a silent wall. Billy couldn’t believe his eyes at how quickly Gillian went from being all hyped up to crossing her arms and pushing herself into the couch. It was as if she wanted to blend right in so that she could hide from her father’s glance.

“Hey there Gilly? How’s my little girl?” Jeff sat down in a chair across from his daughter.

Gillian glared at her father and silently shifted one arm over the other. She wasn’t going to budge on talking with her dad; anyone could see that.

“Gilly it doesn’t have to be like this. I am going to be home in less than 10 days and then what you are going to ignore me forever?”

Gillian looked away at the framed Ansell Adams photographs on the wall above his head. They reminded her of being at Tilden Park on foggy nights, were everything had a gray tone to it because of the wetness that weighed down the air. She took a deep breath and looked at her father for the first time in two weeks.

Jeff was dressed in a pair of tan slacks and a dark gray polo shirt. His hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears, the natural waves of his curly hair created bumps in the smoothness and gave his blonde hair the appearance of raked sand in a Japanese Zen garden. He was clean-shaven and looked rested. A much better sight than the last time Gillian saw her father. She recalled the moment in the kitchen when her father asked for her to call her uncle. It felt like years ago. So much had happened since then.

Jeff reached over and placed his hand on Gillian’s elbow. “I know this is hard, but we will make it through. Okay Gilly Billy?”

Gillian cracked a smile at the nickname. Her uncle began to laugh, and the ice was officially broken.

“Okay Daddy,” Gillian said, she was finally beginning to feel like that maybe this rehab trip was doing what she had hoped it would, help fix her dad. And maybe if her dad were fixed then her mother would come home. And maybe if her mom came home she could leave California. While the chances were slim that everything would have a storybook ending, she couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things might be looking up.