Worthy to Think the World Of

“I would like to talk about Dean today, Charlie, if you’re willing.”

She froze, one hand halfway toward Viola, who’d curled up at the foot of the armchair. Dr. Lynch was looking at her calmly, her hands clasped over the yellow notepad she used for notes. With how their past sessions had gone, Charlie never expected Dr. Lynch to be the one to bring up Vegas. It was her understanding that the psychiatrist didn’t know much about it, other than the sparse facts her parents had offered up when they scheduled Charlie in as a patient.

“How do you know his name?”

Dr. Lynch’s calm expression didn’t waver. “I contacted the counsellor at your previous high school,” she said. “She provided your file and what she could about the other two students involved.”

“I never told her anything,” Charlie insisted, her posture shifting into a more defensive one.

“You didn’t have to, dear,” said Dr. Lynch. “May we talk about Dean?”

“Not Sarah?”

“I don’t think you’re ready to talk about Sarah.”

“You’re right,” Charlie admitted. “Okay. We can talk about Dean.”

Dr. Lynch smiled softly, not having expected the blonde to agree. “Thank you, Charlie. I’m happy you’ve decided to share with me.”

A corkscrew curl had fallen loose from her braid; Charlie twisted it around her finger, staring out the large windows. “Whatever. What do you want to know?”

“Would you say that how you felt about Dean was true, or just a rush of hormones?”

“Definitely hormones.”

“But was there any emotional connection there? Did you trust him?”

Charlie shrugged. “It wasn’t about trust. He’d been giving me these looks ever since him and Sarah broke up, and I’d always sort of liked him. I thought we could slowly shift into something more, but the whole slow part didn’t really work out.”

“There was an incident at a party, correct?” Dr. Lynch asked, glancing down at her notes. “You don’t have to tell me what it is. But from what I understand, it was after that party that the bullying started.”

“I slept with him. We were both drunk and didn’t care if people saw us leave together,” Charlie said bluntly. Now that she’d started telling Dr. Lynch about Dean, it felt necessary to tell her everything. “That weekend was really nice, actually. We spent all of Sunday lying in bed watching movies. Back then, I thought everything was going to be fine. But it wasn’t.”

Dr. Lynch’s lack of reaction was refreshing. Charlie was so used to judgement, be it an obvious expression, a change in demeanour, or simply something reflected in the other person’s eyes. There was nothing but serenity staring back at Charlie, and she appreciated it.

“Was there any communication between the two of you following that weekend?” Dr. Lynch asked after a brief pause.

“He came to my house about two weeks later,” Charlie replied. It was actually seventeen days, but she wasn’t going to tell Dr. Lynch that. Knowing such a specific detail would make the psychiatrist think she’d been reliving it, which she hadn’t. Just the opposite, in fact. Charlie had tried and tried to forget everything that had happened, but she couldn’t. Each day was burned into her brain and stung like an open wound.

“What prompted the visit?”

“Sarah broke my nose in the parking lot after school. My mom set it for me when I got home, so I didn’t have to go to the hospital. But I still have a bump,” Absently, Charlie ran a finger down the bridge of her nose. She thought of Forrest suddenly, how his nose hadn’t healed very well and remained slightly crooked, and wondered if Dr. Lynch had been reminded of her son too. “Dean showed up and asked if I was okay. That was the last time anybody from my high school asked if I was okay. Actually, it was the last time anyone talked to me voluntarily, not including Sarah and the others.”

Dr. Lynch glanced down at her notepad. “There is one more account of physical injury on your school counsellor’s record. One of the other girls, Hannah, pushed you and caused you to break your wrist. Is that correct?”

Silent, Charlie nodded. Her wrist pricked with pain just thinking about that day outside the bookstore. It had been such a nice day up until then, too. They’d gotten in a new order of poetry, mostly anthologies and collected works of popular poets. Charlie had been waiting weeks for Ariel by Sylvia Plath — she’d been on a Plath binge for over a month, which she thought was a little cliché, but by that point Charlie had stopped caring.

“And Dean didn’t come to see you afterwards?”

“No. He pretty much kept under the radar for the rest of the year. Didn’t date anyone, stopped going to parties and smoking weed. But he stayed popular, and nobody ever said anything about it.”

“Do you think that doing those things was Dean’s way of showing his support for you?”

It was a dumb question, in Charlie’s opinion. If Dean wanted to show his support, he could’ve at least talked to Sarah. But Dean, Charlie had concluded, was a coward. Just like the rest of them.

“Sure,” she said, wondering when Dr. Lynch would be done talking about Dean. Charlie had told her all there was to tell.

“Charlie,” the psychiatrist sighed. “I was hoping we were past these one-word, dismissive answers of yours.”

“Sorry,” replied Charlie, though she wasn’t. “Are we done yet?”

After a brief glance at her watch, Dr. Lynch nodded. “I’ll see you next week.”

Charlie was surprised to see her mother waiting in the lobby. Rebecca stood when her daughter left the office, wringing her hands together. She smiled tightly as Charlie approached, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hi, honey, how was your session?”

“Fine.”

“I thought we could drive up to Astoria today,” Rebecca said, keeping her arm about Charlie’s shoulders. They stepped out of the office and into the parking lot. Charlie saw Forrest’s truck parked in one of the shadier spots, his familiar head of dark hair visible through the windshield. But he didn’t get out. She guessed it was because Rebecca was there, and he didn’t want to intrude.

“Why?”

“A coworker recommended a restaurant up there. Your dad is working tonight, so it’ll be just the two of us. Maybe we could do some shopping too? You’ve been wearing the same old things for months.”

Charlie’s style had changed drastically after the bullying started. She almost always wore long sleeves and never shorts or skirts, lest the bared skin provoke some sort of teasing. After a few weeks in Cannon Beach, she was digging out some of her old shorts and leaving her cardigans in her closet, but since she’d thrown out most of her nicer things when life went downhill, Charlie’s wardrobe was seriously lacking. Piper told her as much, each time she visited and rummaged through the blonde’s wardrobe.

“Okay, I guess.”

Rebecca smiled, relieved. She was worried that her daughter would prefer to stay holed up in her bedroom for the rest of the day reading, like she usually spent each Sunday.

“Will you give me a second?” Charlie asked, glancing toward Forrest’s truck again. Rebecca hesitated, confused, but took Viola’s leash and watched Charlie jog over to the pickup parked in the corner of the lot.

Forrest’s window was already rolled down. He smiled at her, hair falling into his eyes. “Hey, Charlie,” he said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see if you wanted to go to the cliff with me again,” said Forrest.

Charlie frowned. “We went two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know, but I liked being up there with you. I didn’t realize how much I wanted for somebody know about it,” he admitted. Forrest reached through the window, snatching up the curl that had fallen loose earlier. He tucked it behind Charlie’s ear, fingertips lingering on her jaw. “But we can go another time.”

“Sounds good,” she said, trying to sound bright. There was something else on his mind, she could tell, and this may have been her only chance to know what it was. But before she could tell him that she would go to the cliff, Forrest was starting up the engine and smiling goodbye. Charlie stepped back, biting on her lip, hoping she hadn’t passed up the sole opportunity to find out why Forrest Lynch wasn’t the boy he seemed to be.