“How are things going with your father?” she asked. “Have you two been working on your relationship like we talked about last week? Have you given him any bids for connection? Or has he made any toward you?”
A bid was a term that therapists used, I guess. Raye said it was a small action or gesture that someone made to seek attention, or support from another person. It was an opportunity for my father and I to try to make some kind of effort toward each other. Any kind.
“We got into a fight last night,” I confessed. “And he was a total jerk.”
Raye arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do you want to share what happened?”
I sighed and shruggedagain. “No.”
“All right. That’s OK. If you want to circle back to it later on, we can.”
“I won’t.”
“That’s fine, too. There’s no pressure here.” Raye narrowed her eyes as she twirled her pen between her fingers. Gosh, she was so freaking beautiful. And nice. Nicely beautiful. I wished I looked like her. I’d give anything to look like her, or Ellie, or anyone but me.
She fired off her next question. “And Lorelai?”
I arched an eyebrow. “What about her?”
“How’s your connection with her?”
“Good,” I dryly replied. Why was she asking about my little sister? She never asked me about her. About my mom and dad? Sure. But never about Lorelai. I shifted in my chair, feeling uncomfortable with the question for some reason. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, you don’t bring her up. I know you struggle with your connection with your father, but you don’t bring up Lorelai at all. Why is that?”
I threw my hands up. “I don’t know. She’s just a kid.”
Raye nodded a few times. “Yes, but her involvement in the accident was pretty huge, right?”
I tilted my head to the side, my gaze drifting to the floor at the word “accident” coming from Raye’s mouth. She didn’t know it, but whenever the word came up, I was transported back to that night. I was in the car, seconds before the accident, yelling like a dumb kid at my little sister.
“Dad! She won’t stop!” I shouted.
My skin began to heat up as if I was on fire. Sweat startedto gather at my brow as I tried to pull myself back from the memory. I wished some memories never existed. There was so much I wished I could forget.
“She was just a kid,” I said once more, not making eye contact with Raye. “I shouldn’t have been yelling like that. If I hadn’t, Dad would’ve never turned around to scold us. If I’d just...”
“You blame yourself for the accident,” Raye stated.
I turned to her as if she was completely ridiculous for saying that, because I thought that was a given.
Of course I blamed myself.
I was the reason Dad was distracted.
I was the reason the car crashed.
I was the reason Mom was dead.
Raye leaned forward and shook her head. “Karla East, that accident wasn’t your fault.”
I shifted my eyes. My heart raced faster and faster. “But, I... I was yelling. I was shouting and screaming, distracting my parents.”
Raye kept her stare on mine. “Your dad turned around to look at you. That was his choice, not yours. Lorelai unbuckled your seat belt. Why don’t you blame her for being a distraction? Why isn’t the blame of the accident on her? Why don’t you blame her for your seat belt being unbuckled and that causing you to fly out of the car during the crash?”
My gut hurt.
Was she blaming Lorelai for all of this? Was she putting it all on my sister?
