And then she told him that her mother left her estate in trust for Lorna, but with untenable conditions, because her mother had decided Lorna was the one who needed to change.
Micah listened to all of it, his face conveying his empathy. He filled her teacup when she admitted to having the gut-wrenching regrets and suffocating guilt her mother had tried so hard to get her to acknowledge.
She told him she hated herself for believing all the lies Kristen told her and believing that she would change when she promised. She hated herself for believing that Kristen would stop using drugs, that she would get a job, that she would be part of the family again. She’d wanted so badly to believe her and was let down over and over.
“Addiction is a cruel master,” Micah said. “You love the person and hate the disease.”
“That’s too trite,” Lorna said. “I mean, sure, it’s true, obviously, but sometimes... well, really, alotof times... I hated Kristen. I hated her,” she said again. “She was so impossible to love, no matter how hard I tried. Like, it’s not her fault she’s an addict, so you’re supposed to overlook that like you would if she had cancer, so they say, even while she is tearing you and your family apart.” Lorna had never been good at articulatinghow she felt about Kristen’s disease. Much less grasping her feelings fully—they were so damn complicated. “I tried to save her,” she said quietly. “But it was pointless. Kristen didn’t want to be saved.”
“That is indeed a very personal decision,” Micah said. “To be sober or not. You said your sister is in Florida?”
“With my dad.”
“Do you see her or speak to her?”
She could feel the door of her bomb shelter swinging closed. She shook her head. “We’re on a break. It’s been almost two years.” Her eyes were beginning to fill with tears. Of fury? Of sadness? It was hard to know anymore.
Micah slid the box of tissues across the floor to her.
“I haven’t had any contact with her. I’ve hardly spoken to my dad either. My stepmother sends me a couple of letters every month. But I don’t read them.”
“Why not?” Micah asked.
Because she was afraid of what was in the letters. She couldn’t bear the blame or the guilt or the pleas for help. “They’ll just make me mad.” She took a tissue from the box. “All I know is that every time I get a pink envelope, I feel like crying. I know it will be about Kristen.”
“Ah,” Micah said.
Ah.Lorna heard that as Micah not understanding. Could she blame him? How ridiculous was it that she wouldn’t open a letter and read it? How could she explain she would rather just leave it like an unexploded mine in her apartment? If she didn’t know what was in them, she didn’t know what there was to be upset about.Avoidant, he’d called her. Maybe she was.
“I know this has been difficult, but thank you for sharing. I think it will help us set some goals for your wellness program. Let’s start with what you hope to achieve?”
What sort of question was that? She wanted to keep her job. She wanted to be liked. She wanted her grandmother’s house. “I want to go back to work and have a normal life. That’s it.”
“And what does a normal life look like to you?”
Use your context clues, Micah. “Just a normal life. Not having to talk about my sister. Not having to pretend I had a normal childhood. Just being happy in my grandmother’s house like I used to be.”
“For the record, normal is a myth. But it’s very interesting to me that you equate having a normal life with not talking about your sister. Clearly, your trust has been destroyed many times.”
Damn it, the tears would not stop welling. She hated to be vulnerable. She’d said more today than she’d said in years, and she was already regretting it. “It’s not just that I don’t trust people. People don’t trust me either. Deb can’t trust me not to say the wrong thing. And I’m not trying to say the wrong thing; it just happens. My mother put conditions on her trust because she didn’t trust me to be the daughter she wanted.” It all seemed perfectly obvious to her.
“But is that true, Lorna?” Micah asked kindly and handed her another tissue. “Seems to me the evidence would suggest otherwise. You were there for her. When your sister wasn’t, you were there. What’s upsetting you?”
“Oh, let’s see—that my mom had a list of things she wanted me to do to somehow forgive Kristen? Or understand her? Or accept her as she is? But her list is all aboutmyregrets. So... not helpful, Mom. I was the good daughter. I did what I was supposed to do. And she wanted me to do more.”
“That must have been frustrating,” Micah agreed. “Let me offer a different perspective.”
“No,” Lorna said before he could say more.
“I’m just wondering if—”
“No.I’ve already wondered enough. I’ve wondered so much my head hurts. I don’t need to wonder anymore. I’m not doing it.” She felt her feet encased in concrete when it came to that damn trust codicil. She resented it so much she could hardly think of it without wanting to scream.
“Isn’t it possible your mother understood that sometimes you must face your demons in order to move forward? The past has a way of sucking us in and holding us there. And if you can address those things that hold you back—the things that put you on this beanbag—don’t you want to at least try? Don’t you want to change, Lorna?”
A minute ago, she’d thought that kind of thinking was smart. A minute ago, she was still all for trying. But now she did not like the direction this conversation was going. “Do you really think visiting past regrets—some of them from childhood, I might add—is going to show me the way to a better life? I don’t want to revisit them. They are regrets, water under the bridge, which essentially means I don’t want to talk about them.”
“Okay. But can you see any disadvantages to letting go of those things that make you feel so angry?”
