Shooting Sdax by V Jolene Miller

Author:V Jolene Miller
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Author's Ink
Published: 2019-08-15T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Starr took a deep breath and tried to find her center. Grace Wu was the last teenage client on her caseload at Cloverleaf, and she was a pill. Starr had hoped the sixteen-year-old would be farther along in her progress by now, but today’s session had not proved fruitful thus far. In fact, she and Grace were deadlocked and had been for more than ten minutes.

“I think if you’d let yourself feel something different, you’d feel better. You might even be able to see this from a different perspective,” Starr suggested. She remembered how long it took her to convince Rachel James to feel something and tried to focus on the potential for progress.

The girl barely moved her mouth, but her words came through clearly. “No. I don’t need to cry. No more homework. And no family therapy.”

“Grace, you aren’t an adult yet. Inviting your father in for your sessions could make a huge difference. Why not give it a chance?” Starr asked. She hated it when clients made her beg.

“Then I’ll get emancipated.”

“Because you don’t want to talk to him? Doesn’t that seem rather extreme?”

“Other kids have done it,” Grace said.

Starr folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. This was the longest session she’d had all day, and she was only fifteen minutes into it. “Kids you know?”

“Who cares if I know them. Other kids have done it. Like that one from the movies. I’m not any different from him. Besides I’m almost eighteen, so it makes sense.” Grace punctuated every sentence with a finger stab. She stabbed the air in front of Starr, the computer monitor, and the calendar. Always stabbing with her finger.

“Macaulay Culkin? From Home Alone? That’s who you’re comparing yourself with? Grace...” Starr couldn’t think of a way to finish her sentence. She wanted to tell the girl she was being ridiculous, but who was she to judge? How many times had she herself wished a different kind of life when her parents were alive and fighting? Well, her father fought. Her mother dug herself deeper into a cocoon of silence.

Grace stabbed herself with her finger. “I thought you were supposed to help me. That’s what you always say. You’re here to validate my feelings, to help me grow as a person. Yet it feels like you’re trying to sacrifice me and what I want to please my father.”

Starr’s heart sank a little. Had Grace’s sessions always been this difficult? She’d played cards with Grace and colored with her. They’d even tried knitting a couple of times before Grace deemed it old-ladyish and said she wasn’t interested. For every sixty-minute session, Starr prided herself on getting a solid five therapeutic minutes with Grace. Starr felt the chances of a breakthrough were ticking away with the hour on the clock.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t validating your feelings. I’m trying too hard to get you to see things from my perspective,” Starr said.

Grace tightened her ponytail. “I want to know what it takes to get emancipated.

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