Maybe it was the night’s events catching up to me, or the familiarity of being at a hospital, but my chest was tight with painful memories. I didn’t enjoy feeling this way, and I tried to press it down.
Catherine tilted her head and smiled. “So you understand.”
I looked down into my lap, grateful she could see it on my face.
“People often wear empathy like a badge of honor. Only those who have taken up the gauntlet can truly understand.” She patted my knee.
She was right. My personal experience with life’s challenges and triumphs taught me a lot about emotional depth. I was sure it showed.
“I knew your mother. The psychologist who treated her was a colleague of mine—though Sybil doesn’t know that.” She chuckled. “I don’t want her to think I’m meddling again.”
I sat up a little straighter. “You knew my mother?”
“I did.” She was beaming, looking so proud to be sharingthat. “New York may be big, but our world can be small sometimes. When I first took on Sybil as a young teen, I consulted your mother’s therapist for help. I sat in on a few sessions with your mom before she fell ill. Hearing her story and knowing it now—she and Sybil are a lot alike.”
“I noticed.” I was on the verge of tears, but laughing too. Swiping at my eyes, I tried to hide it.
“Cases like theirs can be tricky and take a long time to resolve, especially when they’re content in their small world as Sybil and your mother are and were.”
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the beige, vinyl-seated chairs of the waiting room, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead.
“Sybil’s home base is gone now, and she’ll need to find a new place to hide. I would rather she not isolate herself again. It’s for that reason I’d love to have you take her in. Not to overstep, but I believe it’ll be good for everyone, not just Sybil.” She winked at me.
I nodded, a grin now on my face.
Catherine stood and gestured for me to stand as well. Spreading her arms, she invited me to give her a hug.
Leaning over her, I gently hugged her slight frame.
She whispered in my ear. “She needs a friend, and I believe you and your sister will be perfect.”
I let her go. “Thank you.”
She patted my arm. “Now. Let’s get everyone out of here. You all stink, especially that dog.”
I chuckled and took her arm in mine as we made our way back to the room.
???
In the town car on the way back to my house several hours later, Sybil sat curled into herself in a hospital-issued set of sweatpants and a large t-shirt. Bill sat between us in the back seat, panting and looking out the front windshield.
I kept stealing glances her way, still stunned that she was here and coming home with me. At last, I could try to make her laugh in person, though I worried it might be an uphill battle after last night. It was a lot to overcome, but I was ready to help her.
Her hair was still in the braid the nurse had put it in at the hospital. It frayed here and there and was tucked behind her. Loose strands fell in front and around her face, hiding her eyes.
I could see that she found it hard to be at ease.
“I’m sorry this happened to you,” I broke the silence.
She was biting her nails but stopped.
“You don’t have to respond. I know talking is difficult and all this is probably scary.”
She picked up her phone and started tapping the screen. My phone dinged. I looked down with a smile.
Sybil:Thank you.
Me:It was nothing. I guess the universe just wanted us to drink coffee together. Hell of a way to make it happen ??.
