And as much as I’m still angry… I don’t like seeing her punished for something that’s ours. Simone has no right to be angry, especially on my behalf.
Biting my tongue, I walk over and start helping her unmake the bed.
“How’s therapy going?” I ask.
Jess freezes for half a second.
This is the first time I’ve asked her something that isn’t about logistics.
“It’s… uh, good,” she says slowly. “Claudia keeps tracing everything back to my childhood, though. I mean… what is that?” She laughs softly.
I nod. “Dr. Brett does the same. It’s kind of why I’ve been avoiding him lately.”
“Why?” she asks.
I hesitate. “He… wants me to confront my dad. Or, I don’t know, confront isn’t the right word. Just… talk.”
Jess nods slowly. She knows what about.
The whole thing between my parents and Manuel was a huge deal around our wedding. Manuel wanted to come. Mom obviously said no. Dad said it was our decision.
Which, of course, meant not inviting the man my father inadvertently left my mother for.
“And you won’t?” Jess asks carefully.
I look at her. “You think I should?”
She shrugs, then seems to rethink it. “I don’t know. I was hesitant about therapy too. But Claudia’s helped me with issues I didn’t even know I had.”
She smooths the comforter absently.
“I mean, she’s the reason I’ve been so patient.”
She says it lightly. But pointedly.
I decide to ignore that part.
“What would I even say to my father?” I ask instead. “I mean… I had a good childhood.”
Jess bites her lip and stares at the bed we’re both just patting at now, pretending to fix wrinkles because we’re not ready for the conversation to end.
I brace myself, half-expecting the fragile peace between us to crack.
But when she looks up at me, her expression is steady.
“I want you to say all the things young you imagined saying.”
“I didn’t imagine-” I start.
The look she gives me cuts me off.
“We all do it,” she says softly. “You know. Pretend to confront someone. Tell yourself you’re practicing. Even though you know you’ll never actually do it.”
I don’t respond.
“I did it,” she adds with a small shrug. “I used to pretend I was talking to my parents. Saying everything I wanted to say but couldn’t.”
“How’d you deal with it?” I ask.
