Cal looks at me baffled, then shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Don’t tell me there’s a chance she’d want to go back to him.”
I shrug. “She loves him, despite everything. We all know how stupid love makes us, right?.”
He scoffs at that but sits down on the couch in front of where his computer sits on the coffee table, his aggravation evident.
“You’re a lot more relaxed than I thought you’d be after how I found you. Not saying that’s a bad thing. It’s just unexpected.”
“Now that I’m out of that room, I’m fine. Other than that, I’m used to shit like this,” I tell him, ignoring the scowl he gives me. “Besides. I have more important things to worry about than where Kameron ran off to.”
The annoyance in his demeanor leaves as his intense, prying eyes search my face, trying to read further into what I said. He gives me an understanding nod, sitting back in his seat.
“Then, if that’s the case, I should remind you that you have an appointment with Dr. Lyce set up in a few hours.”
I sit here, taking his words in, trying to decide if I’m going to let my agitation win out. I don’t want to go see a fucking shrink so she can tell me everything that’s wrong with me that I already know. But instead, I take in a deep breath before I speak.
“Who set that up?” I inquire calmly.
“I did,” he tells me. “But only because Veronica asked me to.”
I should have known it was her.
“How long was I out?”
“Not long. Almost two days. ”
I sigh, shaking my head. No telling what she went to do. That shit’s annoying. I wonder what she could have been up to, but I know it has something to do with Blue. It always does with her.
“You can cancel that appointment. I’m not going to that.”
“Why not?” he asks, frowning at me. “You just said you’re trying to get your shit in order for your kid.”
“Yeah, and I don’t need to talk to someone to do that,” I rebut.
“You think that,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t let your ego fuck you up, Alana. You said you’re used to dealing with situations like what you just got out of; in what world do you think that’s normal?”
“My world,” I snap back at him, annoyed he’s trying to tell me about myself like he knows me or something. “It’s not like this is my first time being Megan’s savior. I deal with this shit, then I move on.”
“But that’s not how life should be,” he states. “Clearly, you have some things to work out. Not just with yourself but with Megan and Veronica. Life could be a hell of a lot easier if you go see Helen and let her help you instead of trying to do this all on your own.”
I squint at him, my anger simmering down as I slowly begin to see that he’s right.
“So now you’re about to tell me you know what you’re talking about because you were in my same position, aren't you?” It’s all I can think to reply with.
“How do you think I ended up here?” He leans forward on his knees, a smug grin on his face. “I’ll be the first one to tell you that trying to get past this on your own is going to cause more harm than good in the long run, and if you really want to do what’s best for your child, you’ll drop the tough bitch act long enough to see that this isn’t just about you and the baby. The other two are going to be around whether you like it or not. Helen can help you work through the shit you’re going through with Megan and what you’ve dealt with throughout life. So I suggest you get something to eat before I drive you there. Trust me, you’re going to need the energy.”
I want to tell him to fuck off, but I know it’ll only be out of frustration that everything he said was right. The only response I could’ve given him was to tell him to go fuck himself.
But instead, I reluctantly concede, deciding that if I don’t like it, I just won’t go back.
I cross my arms and glare pointedly at him.
“So this is tough brotherly love, huh?” That’s the closest thing to a verbal agreement he’s getting out of me.
“Get used to it,” he replies, standing up. “The kitchen’s that way. Help yourself to anything. I’ll be taking care of some things before we leave. If you need me, my office is past the stairs in the back of the house.”
“Gotcha, bro,” I say, giving him a two-fingered salute.
Once he’s gone, I sit here by myself, in silence, dreading this appointment, but it’s not like it can make shit any worse. I push myself out of the armchair, accepting the fact that I’m going to have to go talk to this lady. What harm can it do?