Page 96 of A Pretty Fixation

“Breathe,” Dr. Sharma reminds me when I start tobreak down again. She does the technique with me until I’m calm. “Good. You’redoing good.”

I grab a napkin to dab at my eyes. “Um, are yougoing to help me create the walls again?”

She closes the book in her lap and places it onthe table with her pen. “I fear rebuilding walls and repressing the traumaticmemories will be dangerous. Should it fall apart again, you could suffer amental break. I’m hoping you’ll consider another option, especially now thatyou’re older.”

I crease my forehead. “What other option?”

“How about facing your traumas? I could give youtools on how to cope. Addressing the pain will help you heal finally.”

“I don’t know if I can.” I sniffle. “I’m notstrong.”

“None of us realize how truly strong we are,” she says,a kind smile on her brown face. “Small steps. And Jordyn, I hope you’ll addressthatloss as well.”

That loss. The one we never discuss—my momma’sdeath.

My heart rate escalates at just the thought, andmy body stiffens.

“I’ll think about it,” I tell her and look at theclock nearby. “Time’s up.”

She hums. “Indeed. I’ll see you next week.” Shestraightens as I rise from the couch and walks with me to the front door.

Dad’s just pulling up at the curb. He waves.

Dr. Sharma waves back. “If you feel you’re unableto manage your classes, I encourage you to take time off and not pushyourself.”

I form a smile and assure her, “I’ll be allright.”

She nods. “Okay. See you next week, Jordyn.”

I walk to the car and get in. “Hi, Dad.”

“How are you doing, honey?”

“I’m fine.” I stick my hair behind my ears andlean back as he drives off.

Silence lingers in the car for a minute or twountil I ask, “Dad, did you keep my things from the foster home?”

“Oh, it didn’t feel right getting rid of them, sowe stored your little luggage in the basement.”

“You did?” I murmur. “Thank you.”

He looks over briefly, clearing his throat a fewtimes before speaking. “I wish I could take all the pain away.” His voicebreaks. “When your mom and I saw you alone in that room at the foster home, youwere drawing and mumbling to yourself. You kept sayingshe won’t hurt meanymore.” He sobs. “God. We wanted to give you all the love in the worldand show you how a parent is supposed to be.”

“Dad…” I reach over and touch his arm. “You andMom are amazing parents. You do give me all the love in the world.”

He releases a weighty sigh. “I know you’rehurting, and I wish I could make it stop. I just want you to be happy and nothave those horrific memories. That’s why we asked Dr. Sharma to repress thembefore.”

“I know.” I peer down at my lap. “But the only wayto deal with it is to face it. I have to start doing that now.”

“Your mom and I are here for you, Jordyn,” hereminds. “Always.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you, pancake.”

We both laugh.

Reaching home minutes later, Dad parks at the sideof the house, and we enter to the sound of Mom’s voice. She’s talking tosomeone in the living room.

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