Page 61 of Open Secrets
My throat tightens. I want to laugh it off, but the thought lodges deep.
“They don’t,” I say flatly, cutting her off. My arms tighten around my chest. “So this conversation is pointless.”
Dr. Nina doesn’t flinch. She just sits there, patient as stone. “And your father?”
I let out a sigh, dragging a hand over my face. “You’re just—” I stop, my throat tight. “I told you. He won’t even see me. And I can’t exactly break into a retirement facility.”
Her expression doesn’t change. “So you’ve tried?”
My laugh comes out sharp, brittle. “Once. Years ago. They called me to the desk like I was a trespasser. Said he wasn’t accepting visitors. That was it.”
I stare at the rug, my voice low. “I got the message loud and clear.”
“How did that make you feel?”
I give her a look. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”
Dr. Nina only waits.
I let out a breath, tipping my head back to stare at the ceiling. “It makes me feel… sucky.”
Silence stretches, heavy, so I glance back at her. My lips press against my teeth, tracing the edge. “I guess I never realized how easy it is for someone to just… cut you out. I mean, up until five years ago, I never went a week without talking to my dad. He raised me. He was my mom, my dad, my everything. And then suddenly he just didn’t care anymore.”
My voice cracks. I swipe at a tear before it can fall. “That’s it.Done with you.Those are probably the last words my father is ever going to say to me.”
The silence after is thick. I realize my nails are digging into the cushion, and I force my hands to unclench.
Dr. Nina leans forward slightly, her tone soft but steady. “That must have been devastating, Maria. I can hear how much it still hurts.”
I don’t answer. I just nod once, sharp.
She glances at the clock on the side table. “We’re almost out of time for today. I don’t want to rush you, but I do want you to sit with this thought for the week: maybe your father’s words don’t define your worth as a daughter—or as a mother.”
I let out a shaky breath, half a laugh, half a scoff. “Easier said than done.”
“Of course,” Dr. Nina says gently. “That’s why we’ll keep working on it. Same time next week?”
I nod again, not trusting my voice.
By the time I step out of her office, I’m hurting more than I was when I went in.
“I really, really don’t get the point of this,” is exactly what I say to Lyle when I meet him after work.
“Can you please just give it a try?” he asks.
“I am,” I mutter, sipping from my straw. “I just hate wasting money.”
“Let me worry about that.” He smiles faintly, then hesitates, looking away. “I spoke to my parents today.”
“Oh.”
His eyes flick back to mine. “I punched my dad.”
A laugh bursts out of me. I shouldn’t laugh—he’s old, for God’s sake—but a giggle slips anyway. “Why?”
He just tilts his head.Why do you think?
I sigh. “What happened?”
