If only I could count on my future being light years better than today. I can’t. Not while I’m spending every other Thursday in therapy because my mom thinks it’ll stop me from obsessing about…everything.
Today’s my fourth session in two months with Lisa, and the mess in her office continues to stare me down. The lazy papers and unshelved books, the accumulating dust everywhere. If she weren’t so disorganized, I could relax.
“What’s on your mind, Zinnia?” Leaning on the armrest of her leather chair, her eyes fix on me.I count the seventeen jellybeans in the glass dish on the table. Lisa smiles and twirls her pencil.
The air between us might as well be cement.I can’t stand it, so I blurt out the question I’ve been chewing on for two months and three days: “Is it true anxiety’s passed down? Or obsessing…or whatever I have? I like neat. I like order. That’s not wrong, right?”
Lisa laughs, but I know it’s not at me. We’ve been over this. “You’re not wrong, Zinnia. But, yes, mental health conditions can be passed down.”
“I thought so, but my mom’s the least organized person I know.”
“Tell me about your dad.”I swallow. “I never met him.”
“Oh.” She lifts her pad and scribbles. “Is he alive?”
Gawd, I never even went there. “I don’t know… Mom keeps him a secret.”
“I see. Well, I’m sure she has a good reason.”
If she does, she’s keeping that a secret, too. (If you want to read more, look for this new contemporary young adult story at your local bookstore soon!)