Page 51 of Stolen Hearts
Has she spoken to them already?
I reach for my notebook and follow her to the door.
Worry creeps over me like a dark storm cloud.
When I enter the group therapy room, the shock on my parents’ faces matches mine. I rub my eyes at the sight of them both. They look like they’ve aged ten years in five weeks. My mom looks like a clothes rack, her pink blouse and white trousers practically hanging off her. My dad’s hair is now completely grey. There’s no sign of the dark-brown flicks that usually complement his brown jumper and loafers.
My brother, Harrison, nods my way, refusing to get up from the couch. He’s in his usual outfit of a baggy black hoodie and grey sweatpants, with his headphones still over his ears. My parents do get up to make their way toward me. My mom pulls me in and squeezes me tightly.
“Oh Al, look at you.” She grips my cheeks with her hands, her eyes carefully studying every inch of my face. “You need to get some sunlight. You look like a ghost.”
“Hi son. Happy birthday.” Dad’s hand grips my shoulder firmly.
My heart aches at the coldness of his tone, but I know it masks his true hurt.
“Hi Dad.” My gaze drops to my feet.
The disappointment and shame are already weighing me down before we even begin.
This is going to be a long hour.
Thankfully, Lee positions herself in an armchair opposite the empty one left for me. The safety that her presence brings helpssettle my stomach as my parents scoot Harrison over so they can sit down. My mom’s brows furrow, and he reluctantly reaches up to remove his headphones and straightens his spine.
“Right. Where shall we begin?” Lee leans forward, sliding her glasses onto her face.
A deathly silence falls across the room.
Everyone’s eyes, including mine, dart over to look at Lee.
My dad’s leg bounces. My mom plays with her wedding band. Harrison pulls at the drawstrings of his hoodie while I gnaw away at my nails.
“Ah, I see. This is the first time you’ve done something like this.”
My parents nod in agreement as Harrison lets out a sigh. I opt to remain silent, motionless. Family therapy wasn’t offered my first time around in rehab.
“I believe today marks your twenty-fourth birthday,” Lee says, turning to me before looking back at everyone else. “How do you all celebrate it?”
I manage to fight off a chuckle. The lack of presents, or of anything else celebratory in the room, is a clear indication.
It was understandable when I was younger and they lived paycheck to paycheck, but now that money isn’t an issue, they no longer have that excuse.
“I brought a cake with me, but they wouldn’t let me bring it in.” My mom mouthsSorryat me. “Something about cross addiction and sugar?” She shakes her head disapprovingly.
“Okay, let me see what I can do.” Lee reaches for her pad on the table and makes a note.
When she looks back up at me, my eyes widen.Please move on.
“Alex, did you have something you wanted to share?”
I fiddle with the notebook in my lap as I open it up. The words Lee had asked me to say to my family, about everything that has happened—recently and in the past—are written down inside.
My mouth goes dry at the thought of sharing it.
I’ve been plagued by a thousand questions about what happened this last month. But one question trumps them all.
“Is it as bad out there as I think it is?” My eyes focus on my mom.
She looks away, out the window behind Lee, refusing to answer. She reaches for a tissue from the box on the table to dab at her eyes.
