I Fall Apart

Lin

Nora was on a cloud when she came back from her day with the Schuyler sisters. It had been just what she needed. I texted them all and thanked them. A lot of the social media stuff had died down. I ended up putting out a statement on Twitter asking people to respect my daughter's privacy and that this was a private family matter. People were considerate for the most part, but I got a couple calls to do interviews. There was no way in hell I was doing that.

Fall Break was approaching for Nora, and while she was doing better I wondered if it might do her good to attend some group therapy sessions. After researching online, I found out about a place that did two-week group therapy sessions for kids who had lost parents. It was a bit pricey, but Nora's mental health was worth it. She'd been upset for a week or so after her mom died, but otherwise she seemed to keep it all in. She still had an aura of anger about her at times. The photo situation didn't help.

After we'd put the boys to bed, I called Nora over to my computer on the couch. I had the website pulled up.

"What do you think about this?" I asked her, tilting the laptop in her direction. She used the touchpad to look through the main page.

"Grief counseling?" She asked.

"Uh-huh," I confirmed. "It hasn't been that long since your mom passed. I thought it might be helpful."

"I don't want to go talk to a bunch of other kids about dead parents," she said. "That would be so depressing."

"But you don't know anyone else who's lost a parent," I pointed out. "It could be helpful to talk with kids who are in the same boat."

"It'll interfere with my pimping schedule," she told me, straight-faced.

I eyed her and then burst out laughing. "Child," I told her, shaking my head. I pulled the laptop back over. "I think you should do it. You don't talk to me much about it."

"I don't want to harp on it."

"But you need to grieve," I told her. "You can't just push it aside."

"So if I start to cry a little more, you won't make me go?" she asked. I gave her a look.

"Think about it," I told her, closing my laptop. "Don't you have homework to do?"

She rested her head on my shoulder. "Yeah."

I smirked and ruffled her hair. "You better get to it. It's almost 9:00."

I knew Nora was resistant to the idea of going to this camp, but I wondered if the Schuyler sisters might be able to help convince her. Or maybe even Jonathan Kirkland from Chicago. I called him up and we chatted for a while. Our new hires were knocking it out of the park.

"Nora really hit it off with you in Chicago," I told him. "She said you talked about your dad dying as a kid?"

"Yeah, we did," he said. "It seemed to help to talk about it with someone who'd gone through something similar."

"I agree," I said. "I found this camp upstate that's a grief counseling camp for kids whose parents have passed away. I think it would be good for her, but she doesn't seem interested."

"You want me to try talking to her?" he offered.

"That would be great if you could," I told him. "She'd listen to you more than she's listening to me."

"I'd be happy to," he said. "What's her number?"

I gave Jonathan her phone number and thanked him again. That night after dinner, Nora was doing homework in her bedroom. A little after 8:00, she came out to the living room, looking suspiciously at me.