I try to imagine calling my big sister for relationship advice and almost laugh at the absurdity of it. “That wasn’t something I did normally, but I think I could talk to her about Millie. Clara would like her.” Dr. Kline’s eye contact encourages me to continue. “She would be excited for me and probably tease me about it as much as possible.”
“I agree. I think she would be happy for you.”
Nodding, I fold my hands in my lap. “How do I learn to balance my time between Millie and the girls? How do I let go of the guilt I feel when I spend time away from them?”
He tilts his head. “Did Millie give you any reason to believe she’s upset about the division of your time?”
“No, never. She has spent a lot of time with all three of us and frequently talked about how excited she was to see the girls.”
“Do you think that if you spoke to her about balancing your time, she would be supportive?”
The answer is as clear as the window in front of me. Obviously, Millie would be supportive. “She would be helpful and understanding.”
“It sounds like she’s someone you can trust with a conversation like this,” he says. “Do you think your frustration with yourself has anything to do with the amount of attention your parents paid you and Clara as children? I believe part of your fear here might be that you will become the kind of caregiver your parents were.”
The reality of those words makes my stomach sour. “Yeah.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “Clara left me responsible for her girls, and I would never want to disappoint her by acting like our parents.”
He hums in understanding. “Let me start by saying that worrying about how you’re doing as the girls’ caregiver already makes you a good one. You’ll be able to handle this because you’re concerned and talking to people to solve it. Clara knew you well enough to know you would do that. She didn’t trust you with her girls because she thought you would be perfect. She trusted you because she knew you would do your absolute best. That’s all we can offer anyone in our lives—not perfection, but the promise of doing the best we can.”
His words are echoing the ones I told Millie almost a week ago. I said she could trust me, not because I could promise to be perfect, but because I could promise to try my best.
Why is it so hard to do the same thing for myself?
I let out a long breath and nod. If I had been in Clara’s shoes, with children I needed to leave in her care, what would I have expected from her?
The best she could.
Dr. Kline continues, “I also believe she wanted you to have a life beyond the girls as well. She didn’t intend for you to shut everything and everyone else out to take care of them. In fact, you might find that you can be a better caregiver if you are getting time away to rejuvenate. And that doesn’t mean at work. It’s time outside of both, to be yourself, whether that’s a relationship, a hobby, or alone time.”
I can’t even remember the last time I did something alone, completely for myself. My days of cycling and hiking are long gone since the girls came to live with me, and sometimes I wish I had time between work and making dinner to do something like that for myself.
“So, what should I do?” I ask.
“You start with an honest conversation with yourself. Sit somewhere relaxing and try to picture what you want moving forward. What will give you the most joy in life? Then have an honest conversation with Millie about what a future together would look like. Last, you should practice having time away from the girls, even if it’s not with Millie. It’s good for them to spend time with other people, and it’s good for you as well.”
***
The ticking of my watch reminds me it’s nearly time to go home and make dinner. Gabriella deserves to leave on time after thegrumbling and scowling I’ve done this week, but I need to push it for just a handful of extra minutes.
A few keystrokes later, the planetarium view soars toward the Butterfly Cluster.
I need my sister’s advice, and while some people would go to a loved one’s grave to talk something through, I feel closer to her in this room. In the stars.
I drop to the ground and lie flat on my back against the scratchy carpet. The vulnerability of this position makes my hands twitchy, but it feels necessary. How can I move forward if I don’t make myself a little uncomfortable first?
Taking a deep breath, I whisper, “Hi, Clara.” I scan over each star in the cluster and clear my throat. “It’s me.” I shake my head. “Obviously. I assume no one else is talking to you like this.” I swallow thickly. “I met someone...” I breathe, my throat tight with emotion. “And I wish you could meet her.”
As tears gather at the edges of my eyes, I pour out every whispered word I wish I could say to my sister and hope that, somewhere in the vast universe, she hears me and knows that I’m still trying my best to make her dreams come true.
Chapter 31
Millie
Jojo, our giant jungle nymph, has been sitting with me since I gave the interview committee a tour of the butterfly vivarium this morning. Her bright green body is about the length of my hand, and it’s important that she’s comfortable with being held, so Micah and I take turns during the week. She’s a great silent companion that hasn’t judged me for talking to myself for the last hour.
My computer dings with a new email, and a squeak of excitement bursts out of me when I see it’s Sharon scheduling my second interview for almost two weeks from now. She has a few time options for me to choose from, so I email her back, thanking her and picking the earliest time slot. I’d rather get it over with first thing in the morning than dread it and feel anxious about it all day.
This means I have twelve days to prepare myself to convince a hiring committee that I’m the right person for this job.
