The next few days were a mixture of tension, when my father wasn't around, and false gaiety while he was. My mom obviously had not told him about my near panic attack and I certainly would not have willingly brought it up. She acted like herself and as though nothing was wrong when he or Lizzie were on-hand but whenever we were alone, my mother and I were like strangers with nothing to say to one another but brief civilities.
"Well?" Tyler would ask me each morning after we were buckled in and on our way to school.
Then I would shake my head sadly to let him know that nothing had changed. I hadn't told anyone else about the discord between me and my mom. By Friday I was beginning to feel like I would do anything to resolve things but I had no idea where to begin. I had already tried apologizing but when that hadn't worked it made me second guess all my other options and to dismiss them as useless without ever even trying to implement them.
"Hmm," Tyler pursued his lips as he considered my circumstances. "Maybe you just need to...I don't know...show her somehow that you still need and appreciate her."
"But how?!" I was completely at a loss.
Tyler looked apologetic, "I don't know. I'm sorry, Livie. I wish I knew what to do to help you. I really hate seeing you like this."
"It's not your fault," I sighed.
"I know. I just wish..." his words trailed off then he suddenly brightened, "Tomorrow's Saturday! Are you excited?"
I knew he was trying to change the subject but I couldn't help warming to the sound of the enthusiasm in Tyler's voice. "It's all I've thought about all week! Well, other than..."
"What time do you want me to pick you up?"
"Whenever," I felt like the less I was home the better but couldn't bring myself to say it out loud.
"How about after lunch? I'm spending the weekend at my dad's so once we've had a little time to catch up in the morning I can come get you."
"Perfect," I smiled.
Throughout the rest of the day I used our plans to bolster myself against all the worry over the situation with my mother. Before Mitch everything seemed so much less complicated and stressful. When that went wrong it seemed to drag everything else down with it. Every time I found a bit of happiness or felt like things were finally getting back to normal some new disappointment would arise. Then all the optimism I had managed to gather would slowly unravel and I would find myself spiraling back down into my abyss of anxiety and regret.
Meditating helped but it was a fleeting fix. I usually managed an hour each day after I finished my homework and before dinner. It seemed to be the best time for me, not only as the most effective but after the first four-hour marathon meditation I was afraid that if I didn't do it at any other time I might never come out of it. Since my mother would send either Lizzie or my dad to come get me when it was time to eat I knew I wouldn't go on too long and could relax enough to let my thoughts drift through the quietude and peace of an empty mind. It was strange to feel so little and to be so acutely aware of that nothingness but oddly comforting.
I made little notes throughout the week of what I wanted to talk to Dr. Carlisle about and sincerely looked forward to seeing her. I really hoped she would have some thoughts about how to resolve things with my mom. If I hadn't felt so very much at fault I might have gone to Lizzie or my dad but I had already admitted my guilt to my mother and tried to apologize. That didn't go so well.
Afterwards, I couldn't bring myself to make any more confessions thinking that if I did it might bring on enough raw emotion to give me another attack. That was the last thing I wanted to happen especially after Dr. Carlisle had assured everyone, myself included, that I was making progress. Besides that kind of fear was all-consuming and I never wanted to feel that way again.
