Page 8 of The Torment of Two

“Maybe me and Dax can start a hoarder clean-out business,” I say with a grin. “Think of all the treasures I could find.”

Both dads shout, “No!” at once.

I’ve been teased a time or two about my hoarding tendencies. I just like cool shit and there’s lots of it out in the world. Who needs to go to the mall or big box stores when you can find everything you need in someone else’s trash pile?

“Good luck getting Dax to do that,” Dad says, shaking his head. “I thought he was going to medical school after PMU.”

I snort. “Dad. His grades are just good enough to keep him eligible for football. He’s going to have to take what he can get.”

“There’s always positions open at LGS,” Pops says. “We could use a couple of big guys like you two to carry lumber around.”

“School comes first,” Dad reminds us. “If Two wants to work this summer for you, that’s fine, but I don’t want him getting distracted.”

My grades are fine. Not perfect but not below average like Dax’s. School is just something for me to do and not something I love. Because of my love for architectural salvage and exposure to my dads’ restoration and redecorating firm, I could easily work for them full time one day and be happy.

“Oh,” Dad says, absently picking at his ribs. “I forgot to tell you. Dr. Wynn is retiring. She emailed me a few names of therapists, but I actually met a pretty nice guy who recently opened a new clinic. He’s not a dinosaur like Dr. Wynn, either. I’d say he’s in his late twenties and someone you could connect with easier. Felt like divine timing.”

A new therapist?

Dr. Wynn is a dinosaur, but she’s the dinosaur I know.

“Do I have to?” I ask, voice small, reminding me of when I was little and learning my place in my new family.

“It would make us happy if you’d try,” Pops adds, giving me a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t like him, we’ll try someone else.”

“Maybe I don’t need therapy anymore,” I suggest, voice rough and resigned.

Dad shakes his head. “Sorry, kiddo, that part’s not up for debate.”

Kiddo.

“And if I say no?” I challenge, a flare of anger sparking inside. “Are you going to kick me out?”

Pops grunts and Dad rolls his eyes.

“You’ll go because it’s what’s best for you,” Dad says in his bossy tone that leaves no room for argument. Then he flashes his winning smile that charms everyone in his vicinity. “Who wants baklava for dessert? I picked some up at the coffee shop earlier.”

As my parents happily move on to other subjects, my mind is still turning over this new revelation over and over again.

New therapist.

I’m going whether I want to or not.

I hope my new therapist enjoys hearing about my historical replicas and my love for architectural salvage because one thing’s for sure, if I didn’t open up to Dr. Wynn, I’m not opening up to some random stranger.

Gemma

I check my teeth in the rearview mirror for a third unnecessary time as I listen to Willa tell me all about Bane’s sleep schedule. While I love my sister-in-law, sometimes the baby tales are too much. We’re in such different places in our lives right now.

I’m about to start my second semester in college and she’s about to change yet another diaper. I certainly don’t envy her at times like these.

“I’m sorry,” Willa says with a tired sigh. “I know you don’t care about all this stuff.”

Jolting at her words, I shake my head, though she can’t see it. “What? I do care. I love my Bane-bae. I’m just nervous about one of my classes. I randomly chose it because all the ones I wanted were full, thinking it was a blow-off class, but I heard since then it’s not exactly an easy one.”

“You’ll do fine. You kill it with everything you do. What’s the class?”

“Historical Preservation and Urban Design. Womp, womp.”

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