These strange steps

24

Day 22

This isn't a part of her disorder.

For the first time in God knows how long, she feels a level of anxiety that is justified, because later today-

She takes a deep breath, and thinks about what Tony would be telling her if she was with him right now. They love you, they care about you, they aren't judging you.

That mantra gets her through breakfast, sludge-like decaf-as if it's honestly lost its only redeeming quality of decent taste with Adam having left-and a bagel, and over to the private gym area for thirty minutes on the elliptical. It also gets her through the rest of her getting-ready routine, and by the time she's applying mascara, her hand is hardly even shaking.

Then, she makes it to the reception, and sees them, and almost throws up on the spot.

Her father-her dad looks like he hasn't slept in three weeks. He looks old. She's never had that thought about him before, but he looks old, and tired, and-he looks so sad, even though he manages a small smile when he sees her, and his usual, "Hey, baby girl", before pulling her into a brittle, frail hug.

And that's the good news.

Her daddy-

He looks like she feels, and the shame of what she's putting them through-by finally being honest, or by never having been honest enough-burns inside of her lungs, as they pull her between them, but it's not as it normally is.

They touch her like she's broken, now. Or like she might break.

She doesn't know how to make it clear to them that that's not helping.

...

The small talk is unbearable. Lima is what it's always been, and her own life-nobody wants to talk about her life, right now.

It's not common ground. It's where the war is going to be fought, and she sips at lukewarm herbal tea and wonders if there is any way to apologize for-

Any of it.

It's an actual relief when Puck shows up, thirty minutes later, and joins them in the rec room. Her dad shakes his hand, and her daddy says, "Hi, Noah", and he sits down gingerly on the couch before putting a hand on Rachel's shoulder.

"I know you guys know that we're not in love or anything, now," he finally says, a little stiltedly, until they both look at him. "I mean, I know that's-probably really messed up, but I want you to know that I really do care about Rachel and-"

"Noah, we know," her dad says, and then glances at her for just a second before sighing and saying, "I don't know where to start on any of this, but you're not what we're worried about, okay?"

"What are you worried about?" Rachel finally asks.

Her dad looks at her, takes a deep breath, and then says, "You. Obviously. We're worried about you, and how-the bright, happy girl that we dropped off in New York for college ended up like this. Because it doesn't make sense that any of this happened at all, but it especially doesn't make any sense that you'd-that you'd lie to us about how you are, for years."

Rachel lowers her eyes and says, "I didn't want to-"

"We know. You've said," her daddy says, quietly. "And we're here, obviously, we want to help you get better but that doesn't change that-"

"Please," she says, helplessly, and forces a smile. "I want-to fix this. I want to be honest now, and I'm sorry it took so long but that's why I'm here. It's because I just couldn't do it by myself. I want-"