Page 34 of Evil Queen

“You don’t normally call him your brother?”

“Well, no. He’s my half-brother. We share a father. My dad brought him to live with our family for about a year when we were kids, and then he left suddenly. Right before high school, he went to prison, but he got out this year.”

“Were you frightened?”

“No,” I said. “More…frustrated. I was dating his ex, so…”

“Ah, that’s a tough spot. Did you know they’d dated?”

“Yeah. My dad helped bring her to me, but I wasn’t really into her. I was just doing it to get back at my brother.”

“Why?”

“For leaving, I guess? I don’t know so much anymore. When it was happening, it made so much sense, but now when I think back on it, I feel kind of dumb.”

Nicole smiled at me. “That’s common. We often make emotional impulse decisions that, when those emotions fade, we regret. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve done it.”

Dating Cherri wasn’t the first of those decisions I’d made by any stretch, but I kept that information to myself. “Anyway. She was still crazy about him, so it stirred up a bunch of trouble.”

“I’ll admit, I have heard just a sliver of this story from Nikita. I can’t tell you about what she and I talked about, but she did talk about some of the weird relationship dynamics there.”

“Yeah. I was really happy to break up with Cherri and start focusing on Nikita, but things between us have been less than ideal.” Despite the fact that Nikita was out in the lobby waiting for me, I knew that she and I weren’t good. She still had reservations about me and had every right to have them. I didn’t just hurt one person when I attacked Cherri. I hurt two. “She doesn’t trust me. At least, I don’t think she does.”

“Do you think that she should?”

“No,” I responded. “I don’t think Loches are meant to be trusted. We lie our way through our lives. My father and brother are no exception.”

“It’s a survival tactic, though it’s not one I would recommend. People think lying makes them bad people, but nothing could be further from the truth. Whether you’re defending yourself against others or yourself, sometimes lying feels like the only way out.”

I took a long drink of my coffee to let that concept marinate. “Yeah.”

“Tell me about your parents,” Nicole said. “You’ve brought up your father a few times. Are you close?”

I scoffed. “No. He is the worst kind of person.”

“I see. So not close with dad, what about mom?” My throat closed a little bit, and my nose burned. Again, Nicole held up her hand. “I’m sorry. Maybe talking about parents is too sore a subject.”

“She’s dead. Killed.”

“I’m very sorry, Nathan,” she said. “For how long?”

“Is it…February?” I asked, and Nicole quickly scribbled a note on her paper. “Three months.”

“Oh, it’s new. Let’s leave that one alone for now, then.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Nicole asked me questions that didn’t seem specific to me, but they all seemed to lead to discussing deeper subjects. I kept clamming up on things that made me the most uncomfortable, like Cherri, The Royal Court, and my family, but Nicole still seemed to be getting to the grit of who I was. When the clock on her mantle rang, I jumped, not realizing the whole hour had passed.

“Well, Nathan, thank you so much for talking to me today. It may not feel like it to you, but we got a lot of good work done today. I hope you continue therapy, whether with me or someone else. I really think it could be good for you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I feel a little better.”

She smiled at that. “Good. There is something I have to tell you, though, and I think this could be hard to hear.”

“Okay?”

She crossed her legs and set her notebook flat on top of them. “I believe you may be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.”

---