Page 10 of Embrace Me

“It’s okay, Mellie.”

“Is it?”

“Everybody breaks sometimes,” I say, paraphrasing what Damien once told me. “That’s why I’m here. To help.”

She nods and draws a breath.

“How bad was it?” My voice is carefully level so she doesn’t hear the depth of my concern. “Did you have to go to the ER?”

She shakes her head. “No. No, I didn’t even draw blood. But I put the knife there. And I wanted to. And then I didn’t want to want to.”

I draw in a breath my entire body feeling lighter. And then I hold out my arms for her, and she hugs me like she was my own little girl, this thirteen-year-old, who came to the foundation lost and scared two years ago after her mom was convicted of assault, and is now serving time. “Oh, kiddo, don’t you know, that’s a victory.”

“No it’s not. I haven’t cut in months and months. I haven’t even come close. Then I go and visit her because it’s her birthday and I figure she’ll be okay, but—”

She cuts herself off with a violent shake of her head. I force myself not to speak about her relationship with her mother; that’s a tripwire for me, and better suited for her therapist. But I can talk about the result of that encounter, and I make a point of meeting and holding her eyes.

“You need to believe me when I say this was a victory, not a step back.”

She snorts, and I can’t help but smile.

“It’s true. Because whether you like it or not, that’s part of you. It’s always going to be hard. And sometimes it’s going to be really, really hard. But you didn’t cut. You beat it back. Don’t you see? You won. It was a really hard battle, but you won.”

“Really?” She blinks back tears, but one escapes, and she wipes it away. The motion so swift it seems almost angry.

“Yes. Really. Don’t you remember when we met? I pretty much told the same story to the world, and you came up to me and told me that I should be proud.”

“That’s because that’s what Annabeth said,” she says, referring to her therapist.

I nod. “And Annabeth is right. Do you not believe her?”

Mellie shrugs. “I did. When it was about you. But now it’s me, and I just feel like…” She drifts off, shrugging again.

“You feel like you failed.”

She nods.

“Well, that’s one of the challenges too. Learning to accept the little victories. So let me accept this one for you, okay?” I take both her hands and look hard at her face. “This is a victory. I promise you. So even if you don’t believe it yet, will you at least take my word for it?”

“You really think it’s a good thing?”

“Honey, anytime you don’t cut, it’s a good thing. And anytime your mom starts to make you feel that way, you know you can call me. I gave you my number, remember?”

Now she doesn’t meet my eyes. “I know, but I didn’t want to ... I mean you’re…” She trails off, indicating my stomach.

I laugh. “I promise you, unless I’m actually in labor, I will take your call. I wouldn’t give you the card if I didn’t mean it.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Thanks, Nikki.”

I give her a sideways hug. “Any time. And will you do me a favor?”

Her mouth turns down. “I guess so.”

“I have to go make a speech. Will you come with me? I’d really love to have you in my corner.”

“Absolutely,” she says. “I’ll always have your back.” We start walking to the center together, and she pulls me to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.