Page 113 of Honeysuckle
LOGAN
IsatacrossfromRiona,buried deep in my sweater and already on the defensive. The flowers I brought her sat on her desk behind her and just like Dean had predicted it had softened her a little. We were doing okay until the back half of the appointment when she had asked me about my mother and whether she knew it or not, she had hit a sore spot.
“I don’t know, it’s my mom, she’s always there. Like it or not,” I shrugged and Riona stared at me like I had six heads. “Aren’t you supposed to be like… impartial or something?”
“Who told you that?” She crossed her legs and the fabric of her brown dress pants stretched up enough to show a tattoo on her ankle of a moth.
“Why a moth?” I asked her and her blue eyes dragged down to her ankle with a scowl. “Why not a butterfly—something pretty?”
“Life isn’t pretty, Josh. Moth’s can symbolize a lot of things,” she said, her eyes lifting to meet mine. “Cycle of life, rebirth. I got mine because I wanted to remember to chase the light, my life was dark for a long time, my head in the sand avoiding the hard truths of my failing marriage and my relationship with my daughter. I chase the light, like a moth.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. I hadn’t wanted to admit that sometimes I lacked the ability to believe that happy people have hard lives. My brain couldn’t wrap around the idea that someone could overcome hardship and just move on. I constantly felt like I was ankle-deep in setting concrete, jealous of the people walking past while I silently screamed for help.
“Your relationship with your mother is difficult?” She asked again.
“Yeah.” I nodded, feeling at ease to explain more. “She’s an addict,” I said.
“You’re Cael’s sponsor, what was your vice?” She asked me and I narrowed my eyes on her. “You didn’t think he kept that secret from everyone did you?” She smiled. “He’s my nephew, therapy or not, I’m the one that knows all the things he can’t tell his dad.”
“It’s still weird that you’re Cael’s therapist,” I said.
“I’m not, he comes up here to spend time with me, not for therapy, not anymore,” she said, her blonde hair brushed over her shoulders and she leaned back in her seat. “Who do you talk to? Outside of this room?”
I diverted my eyes to the massive windows that lined her office, the view of the diamond beautiful from this high. “Those must get broken a lot,” I noted and she turned to see what I was looking at.
“Nope,” she said simply. "They’re out of reach from anyone, they’ve never even been touched by a ball. You’re avoiding the question again,” she said, so easily she swung the bat back to the harder conversations.
“Tucker.” I swallowed. It felt weird saying his name out loud, like someone was going to pop out and point their finger at me with laughter. Like I was some joke or the team clown, there simply for entertainment purposes. “Why do you look surprised?”
“I just wasn’t expecting it, Dean is…” she paused, looking for the words, but I had them, listed in permanent marker on the walls of my broken heart.
A sunshower, a golden retriever puppy, mango and sugar, he was electricity in the simplest form. He was mine.
“Too happy for me?” I finished her sentence.
“You are a little rough, Josh.” Her eyebrow rose and she gave me a sympathetic smile. “What do you and Dean talk about?”
Everything.
“Nothing.” I dismissed her. "School, baseball…”
“What about your mother, do you talk about her?” Riona asked.
“Sometimes.” I chewed the inside of my cheek raw.
“Is it hard to be around her when she’s using?” She stayed in her relaxed state and let me come to her with each question.
“Yeah.” I nodded, just trying to keep some bolting from the office out of fear that Riona might see past everything and into the real issues.
“Do you remember when she started?” She asked, I knew what she was doing. She was all but writing it out on a white board for me to follow. She was digging into my mother's past to find out why my childhood was such a hang up. She wanted to know why I avoided the topic, I wasn’t sure I was ready to explain the ins and outs but Riona didn’t nudge when she asked, she shoved with all her strength until the levee broke.
“Nothing I say in here leaves right?” I asked her.
“It’s a conversation between us, always. Unless I believe you’re going to harm yourself, then I have a duty to you and the school to help whether or not you agree with it. Do you understand?” She asked me.
“Yeah.” I swallowed the cotton ball in my throat and tried speaking again. “She started using after I was born, my... My biological father is a piece of work and she never believed that he abandoned us because of her. She blamed me for everything and what I think started as heartbreak turned into resentment. It festered and she got mean.”
“Mean how?” Riona asked.
