Hurricane

April 2005

A month passed, and I knew Patty was getting annoyed with me. No progress was being made. She kept telling me that if I didn’t talk, they might have to put me in a mental facility. It wasn’t much of a threat though. I was always telling myself that I might as well be at one.

I thought this threat wasn’t much of one—until I found out that Patty had talked to my mother. My mother told her how I was ‘withdrawn’ at home and wouldn’t talk. They just didn’t seem to get that I didn’t want to talk.

But at this session that I was currently at, I was surprised to find that Patty wasn’t the only waiting for me. There was a guy with black hair, maybe around my age, sitting on the couch where I normally sat. I froze in the doorway, wondering if I was late. I recognized the guy from the elevator that first day I was here, and I knew that he came in after I did.

“Come in, Molly,” Patty said, smiling at me. She nodded towards the couch. “Have a seat.”

I looked at her cautiously before turning my eyes on the guy who was now watching me. He wasn’t bad looking, but something about him intimidated me. I moved to the couch slowly before sitting down. I sat next to the arm of the couch, staying as far away from this guy that I didn’t know.

“Molly, this is Pete,” Patty said. I looked at him and he gave me a small smile. “I asked him here, because I think you two will have some things in common.”

I gave her a questioning look.

“You see,” she said. “Pete also attempted suicide just about a month before you did.”

My head snapped to the side to look at him in surprise.

“I want you two to start spending some time together,” she said. “I think that the reason you don’t talk to me Molly is because you think that I can’t relate—which is true. So I asked Pete if he would try and talk to you.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, and I distinctly heard her let out a small sigh.

“You need to talk to someone, Molly,” she said. I knew Pete was looking at us in mild curiosity. Patty had gotten pretty good at reading my expressions—so I communicated with her silently. “You won’t talk to me; you won’t talk to your parents. Just—give this a chance. I think it will be good for both of you.”

I didn’t want to do this, but if it meant I didn’t have to deal with Patty...

I rolled my eyes before nodding my head, and watched as Patty smiled.

“Great,” she said. She turned to Pete. “She’s all yours.”

There we go. All I am is a lost cause. Patty even knows it. Now I’m someone else’s problem.

Pete stood up and smiled down at me, showing off the whitest teeth I’d ever seen. It took me a moment to realize I was staring and I looked away quickly and stood up. I followed Pete out of the office and to the elevator.

“Where are we going?” I asked quietly. Pete looked at me for a moment, probably surprised to find out that I do actually speak.

“I’m not sure, actually,” Pete said.

“Well, I have to meet my mom back here,” I said. As we stepped into the elevator, Pete shook his head.

“Patty told your mom that you’d be with me and that I’d bring you home,” he said. I hope that this didn’t mean that this would be longer than my usual session. We rode down in silence and when the elevator doors opened I was following Pete again. When we were out on the sidewalk, Pete headed towards a black SUV that was parked on the street. After he unlocked it, he got in. I hesitated a moment before opening the passenger door and getting into the vehicle.

Pete looked at his watch and then looked at me.

“Have you had lunch?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry,” I said. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that Pete was frowning.

“I know it’s not easy,” Pete said after a moment. “But it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“I don’t want to try,” I said, looking at him now. I held his gaze and after a moment he looked away. He rubbed the back of his neck before sticking his key in the ignition. He didn’t start his car, but instead, let his hand drop to his lap. He looked at me again.

“I’m not going to force you to talk about it,” Pete said. “But I want you to know that you can talk to me.”

I shook my head and looked at him.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing that I’ve told everyone else,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about it. And don’t tell me that it would be best if I talked about it, because no amount of talking is going to ‘fix me.’”

“Fine,” he said. He started the car and pulled onto the street. After a few minutes, I asked him where we were going. “I’m bringing you home.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because I can see that this whole thing is going to be pointless,” he said.

“At least someone can,” I muttered, looking out of my window. We were silent the rest of the way to my house.

Before I got out of his car, Pete gave me a piece of paper with his phone number and name on it carefully.

“What’s this for?” I asked, giving him a questioning look.

“In case you want to talk,” he said. I laughed bitterly.

“Yeah,” I said. I got out of the SVU and closed the door before heading to my house. I don’t know why, but I tucked the paper in the pocket of my jeans.