Part 10 (1/2)

”Oh, look,” my mom would say when these things came in the mail. ”One-stop shopping for people who don't have any style but want to pretend they do.” She could be a sn.o.b about who was born with an artistic eye and who was not.

Suzie sat in one of these carefully designed chairs with a legal pad and pen on her lap, resting her hand in her chin as she gazed at me with curiosity.

I sat on one end of the couch-the end farther from Suzie-with both hands tucked between my knees.

I was here. Bathed, dressed, out of the house.

”Laurel, you will do this. For me. Yes?” Nana had half asked as she put me to bed the night before.

Yes, I would do this. For her.

Now Suzie smiled a bit, still curious, like I was a package she'd found on her doorstep but didn't want to open yet. We had been sitting in silence for a full minute.

”I'm glad you're here,” she said finally.

It wasn't a question, so I didn't answer.

”I heard that Gabriel Kaufman was moved to a long-term care facility in New Jersey, and that David's staying with relatives nearby.”

”Oh.” Even just hearing Mr. Kaufman's name was like a slap in my face, but I didn't let on.

”I thought maybe you'd heard from him, since you still have his dog.” She made it sound like I'd borrowed one of David's CDs and kept forgetting to give it back.

”No, I haven't.” I stared at my thumbs lined up next to each other and noticed how the two sets of knuckle creases didn't quite match.

”I bring up David because I understand you recently had an upsetting experience with him.”

Yeah, thanks for reminding me.

”Do you want to talk about it?”

I looked at her now and just shook my head. Suzie regarded me for a second, then wrote something on her pad. I watched the tip of her pen wiggle as it made a smooth scratching noise, as if whispering something back to her.

”Okay,” she said abruptly, plopping the pad down on the end table next to her. ”Then I have something fun I'd like to show you.”

Suzie got up and went to her bookcase, found a wooden box next to a figurine of a fairy sitting on a rock, and sat back down. She opened the box and pulled out what looked like an oversized deck of cards.

”We call these Feeling Flash Cards,” she said, smiling as she glanced at one. ”I think of them as a game. I show you a card with the beginning of a sentence, and you say the first thing that comes to mind to complete the sentence. Shall we try it?”

This sounded stupid, but I didn't even have the energy to say that. It was easier just to shrug and nod.

Suzie pulled out a card, eyed it with another grin, and flipped it toward me.

Below a picture of a red wilting flower were the words: I BELIEVE WHEN SOMEONE DIES, THEY . . .

Are watching me.

That's what popped into my head, taking me by surprise. But I couldn't echo it with spoken words. I hated to think of what that would lead to.

Instead, I said, ”Gone.”

Suzie raised an eyebrow. ”Gone, how?”

”Just gone.”

I looked back at the card expectantly, like Hit me again. Suzie frowned but flipped over the next one.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE . . .

Nothing will go as planned.

Huh? No.

”I have to be here today.”

Suzie gazed at me, again with the curiosity, and then gingerly laid the card back on the deck. She took great care to slowly replace the first card, put the top on the box, and place it on the end table next to her pad. Her movements seemed calm, yet hostile.

”Laurel,” she said, looking at me now with commitment, her face clear of questions. Right in the eyes. ”Do you believe your relations.h.i.+p with your parents and your brother is over?”

The force of this made me unfurl. My shoulders. .h.i.t the back of the couch and my hands came out from between my knees. I didn't know what to do with them, so I folded them protectively over my stomach.

”Of course it's over. They're dead.”

”So they will never be part of your life again?”

”Well, yeah. They're dead.” Why did I have to repeat that? Had she gotten me mixed up with someone else?

”They won't have any more influence on you? They won't contribute to who you are or the decisions you make?”

Now it was my turn to look at Suzie with curiosity.

”Laurel, you have suffered a terrible, horrible loss. Greater than most people can imagine. But you can survive this trauma, and one of the many ways that will help you do that is to think of your relations.h.i.+p with your mom, your relations.h.i.+p with your dad, and your relations.h.i.+p with your brother as things you can work on and develop, even though these people you love are not living.”

I felt something latch open inside me, and the first heat of tears in my eyes. It was an unfamiliar heat, of relief.

Suzie did not smile or nod or seem at all victorious at breaking through like this. She looked at me with even more determination.

”This will be hard, Laurel. But it will be worth it.”

I slept that night, but woke up early to the sound of someone gagging and coughing. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Selina on the pillow next to me, staring with disgust at the source of the sound.

Which was Masher, in the middle of my room, spitting something onto the purple rug. There was a foamy pink stain next to a pile of my clothes.

Gross, I thought. What had he eaten that was pink?

But my color-mixing skills as a painter snapped on and reminded me, Red and purple make pink.

He was puking up blood.

I jumped out of bed and grabbed Masher gently by the ears, forcing him to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and although this was the first time I'd touched him in days, he didn't seem to react. He just pulled his head away and dropped it to the floor, where I noticed an older pink stain a few feet away.