“Who takes the stress off of Dalton and Mandy?” she asks slowly.
“No one.” I shake my head, a smirk on my face. “No one bothers to ask if Dalton and Mandy are stressed - and that is the problem.”
“You don’t feel like you can tell someone you’re stressed?”
“It took me being ready to kill myself for someone to step in, Doc. What’s that tell you?”
She makes another note, and I wish like hell I could see what it is. Putting the cap on her pen, she sticks it in between her teeth, biting on it. “It tells me two things. Either you’re very good at hiding when things go wrong, or everyone else is so focused on their own issues, they don’t notice yours.”
I’m quiet for a few minutes, thinking back on the last couple of months. Remembering everything that’s happened. Travis being shot, Justice being kidnapped, me getting pregnant and miscarrying, Caelin and Justice trying to hide a burgeoning crush on each other, and my new nephew. For the first time, I realize how much happened in what amounts to weeks, and months. Once it started snowballing, it came at all of us quicker than we could react.
“You know, for so long I’ve worried I’ve been invisible to the people around me.” I grab the length of my hair, braiding it as I think. “But you’ve just reminded me how much has actually gone on in our lives the past few months. It was selfish of me.”
“No, let me stop you right there. It wasn’t selfish of you. Regardless of what’s happened to everyone else, you still needed help, Mandy. The problem was you didn’t know how to ask for it, and that’s something we have to be cognizant of for ourselves. When everyone around us is so focused on their own lives, and they can’t see what’s happening around them, we have to be willing to put out a call for help. A white flag if you will, you have to be willing to surrender and let them help you.”
“I am guilty of not asking for help,” I concede. “I want everyone to think I have it all together, because it feels like everyone else does. My sister-in-law has three kids, and she always looks put together.”
“She’s not, Mandy. I promise you, she’s not. Didn’t you just tell me you basically run her office? I bet she has a ton of help.”
Thinking back, there are moments where I realize she does have the help I’ve wanted, but always felt I wasn’t good enough for. More often than not the twins are over at Mom and Dad’s after school, or on date night. Those nights include Will now too.
Tatum and Remy have taken care of all three of them when Mom and Dad couldn’t. I’ve never asked, but I’m sure if I had, they would have helped with Walker, or even with me. When I couldn’t drag myself out of bed, Tatum would have probably helped me clean the place up, made sure I got a shower, but I’ve been thinking of her as a little girl for a long time now.
I forget she’s a grown woman, married, with a life of her own.
She’d understand more than I give her credit for.
“You’re right.” I drop the lock of hair and put my hands in my lap. “I don’t speak up enough, I don’t ask. I always assume everyone will say no.”
“And they will, sometimes,” she cautions. “Life isn’t perfect, and there will be instances where everyone has something to do, but don’t already assume you know the answer before you ask. You have to let the people in your life help you, don’t automatically think they’ll disappoint you. I have a feeling, more often than not, they will surprise you and your life will be fuller for it.”
A huge breath works its way out of my throat. “This will take a lot of retraining my brain.”
“It will, you’ll have to remind yourself, possibly daily, in the beginning that you aren’t a problem for other people. Somehow you’ve convinced yourself you aren’t a person who deserves what everyone else has. You do, Mandy, and we’re gonna make sure you realize it.”
The timer on her desk buzzes, alerting us that the session is over. She doesn’t give me homework tonight, just tells me to think about what we’ve discussed.
Once I’m back in my room, I roll over onto my side, staring at the clock. I miss Dalton, the way he used to hold my back to his front. The slight beard he likes to wear brushing against my ear as he’d breathe. I took it for granted, every single moment we were together, or not together, I took for granted, and I wish I could go back and memorize those moments.
Getting up, I reach over, grabbing my favorite pen and the paper my mom sent me. It’s pink paper, lined, with flowers on the edges. Before I can even think about what I’m going to write, my hand has a mind of its own, starting a list of the things I love about Dalton.
He needs to hear them, because I haven’t said it enough, and I need to write them out to allow myself to admit how often I’ve taken for granted he’ll be by my side. It’ll be good for both of us.
When I’m done making the list, I get up from the bed, walk over to the dresser, open the top drawer, and reach in to find the one tube of lip gloss I’ve been allowed to have. It’s just a dark enough
