Page 8 of The Girl and the Cobra

My dad then says something that he’s touched on before, almost hesitantly, “Have you thought about getting a part time job of your own? It might be good for you to get out there again. Make some friends.”

The sun overhead is hidden by a thick sheet of gray; sunny days here are rare, apparently. It gives everything a gloomy hue. I watch the scenery go by as I sigh and say, “I don’t know how to make friends, Dad.”

“Maybe that’s something you can talk to Dr. Wolf about.”

I don’t say anything to that, instead biting the inside of my cheek. Making friends and getting out there again isn’t high on my list of priorities. Someday I’ll have to, but not just yet. Right now, all of my focus is on finding out more about the scarred man.

Five minutes later I’m wishing my dad good luck as I get out of his car. I’m waving at him as he drives off, off to hopefully start a new chapter in his life. I breathe in deeply before turning and heading inside.

My second time here, I know what to expect as I enter the overly-large house. I’m not as impressed by the grandiose home, although that could only be due to the fact that I’m dying to talk to its other inhabitant.

I decide to seek Dr. Wolf out, and I find him in the office, waiting for me as he scribbles something down on a notepad, his brow furrowed. He wears a black suit today, looking quite sleek for a therapist. The moment I walk into the office, he stops writing and glances up at me, saying, “Mabel. Have a seat. How are you today?”

I go to sit in the exact same chair I sat in last time, the chair that will probably be mine every single time I come here. “I’m okay. My dad has an interview in town, so he might be a little late picking me up.”

“That’s no problem. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need.”

Silence takes over the room, because neither of us talk after that. Dr. Wolf stares at me, and I stare at the wall across from us while I bite my cheek more. I don’t know exactly how much time passes before I say something, but eventually I can’t take the silence anymore. “Aren’t you going to ask me a question?”

Dr. Wolf’s mouth tightens. He’s not smiling. It’s a weird face, like he’s once again peering inside of me and seeing me laid bare. “What kind of question would you like me to ask?”

I roll my eyes. The last time I was here we talked about my guilt, how it’s all my fault—which Dr. Wolf then attempted to assuage said guilt and convince me it’s not my fault, but he doesn’t know the whole story. There are still parts of it I haven’t told anyone, not even the police when they came around, demanding answers.

“I don’t know,” I mutter.

“How about,” he pauses, as if deep in thought, “we talk about your brother today?” His suggestion makes my stomach churn, my heart constrict, and every muscle in my body to turn to stone. “Tell me about Jordan.”

What good memories I have of my brother are now forever tainted. It’s difficult for me to find the words to say, so I don’t say anything right away.

Dr. Wolf cocks his head at me. “You two were close, I take it?”

“Yeah.” My throat is dry. The word is like a knife coming up. It hurts. “He was my best friend.”

“I can still hear the pain in your voice. You sound like you two were closer than most siblings. Do you think that’s a fair assessment?”

I nod once. “Probably. We never got into fights with each other. We never yelled. We hung out all the time. I mean, don’t get me wrong, he had other friends, but… I didn’t have anyone I was really close with. We were twins, so we were always together.”

Dr. Wolf’s next words hit me like bricks: “He meant a lot to you.”

“He did,” I whisper, and I’m thrown back in time, to a sunny afternoon where I laid on my bed and Jordan hung out on thefloor just beside it. We were doing our math homework together. Advanced, even though Jordan wasn’t as good at math as me.

Ninth grade. Freshmen. Middle of September. It was the time when boys started asking girls to homecoming in fun, cool ways. But not me.

We were in the middle of problem eight when Jordan suddenly sat up and looked at me. “Are you really not going to homecoming if nobody asks you?” It was a conversation we had before, and it always ended with him telling me someone would eventually ask.

Spoiler alert: no one ever did.

I shook my head, hiding behind a curtain of my blond hair. “No.” I don’t know why, but every time we talked about this I got emotional. Sad. I didn’t want Jordan to know how much it upset me that no boy wanted to take me to a stupid dance.

But Jordan? He had a date. He asked out one of the cheerleaders, a girl who’s in tenth grade—and she said yes. Out of the two of us, my brother was always the more popular one. The more liked sibling. He never had any problems making friends or apparently asking out girls who should have been way out of his league since he was just a freshman.

Jordan made a thoughtful sound as he leaned an arm on the side of my bed. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

That made me look at him sharply and give him an are-you-stupid look. “What? No. You have to go. You already have a date. Jenny McMullin will—”

“Jenny McMullin has a whole line of other guys that would take her if I canceled on her.”

“But… why? Why would you cancel?” If anyone’s social life could’ve survived something like that, it was Jordan’s, but still. He shouldn’t. “You can’t. You have to go.”

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