Flat-Out Love (15 page)

Shit. It sounded really nuts when he spelled it out like that.

“Yeah. That sounds about right.” Julie slumped deep into the chair. “Oh my God.”

“Listen, I can give you a few thoughts about this family, but I’m not willing to diagnose anyone or give you any hard-and-fast answers based on this conversation. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to them. Hypothetically. However, I might be able to get you thinking about a few things.”

“I understand.”

“My first thought is that this story you’ve laid out makes me sad.”

“It doesn’t feel that sad being in that house, though.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Julie looked out the small window at the gray sky. “Because I like them?”

“They probably like you too. But there’s something very sad here. Everyone is in coping mode. Functioning independently. Everyone has defense mechanisms working at full force. And there is a firm level of secrecy regarding…well, we don’t know what, do we?”

“Correct.”

“They’ve set their parameters, and I’m not sure you’re in the position to cross those.”

“Why is Celeste doing this? I mean, her brother is off traveling. Big deal. He has the right to, doesn’t he? He can’t live at home forever. Tons of girls her age must have older brothers who leave the house, yet they don’t react the way she has. I don’t get it. She’s got so much potential. And I think I can help Celeste.”

“Ah. You’re a fixer.”

“A what?”

“A fixer. You want to fix this for them. Why?”

“I told you. I like them. Especially Celeste. I can’t just sit around and pretend that carting around a flat brother is not hideously weird. There’s a great kid under the unusual exterior. Nobody is moving. It’s like they’re frozen, afraid to rock the boat with her.”

He nodded. “They probably are. Whatever containment strategies they’ve developed are working to some degree. At least, working in the sense that they’ve stabilized whatever they’re managing. In their eyes, things aren’t getting worse.”

Julie held his somber look. “But they will, won’t they?”

“Probably, yes. A dysfunctional system like this can’t hold up forever. At some point there will be a break.”

She felt her stomach knot up. “And then what will happen?”

“I couldn’t say. It’s not something you can plan for. Tell me your take on this girl.”

Julie tossed her hands up. “I’ve thought about all sorts of things. An adjustment disorder, separation anxiety disorder, reactive attachment disorder? Asperger’s? Something to do with seeing Finn as a parental figure? And when he left, she felt that loss more profoundly than made sense. Her defense mechanisms got out of control? She has a chemical imbalance?”

“All possibilities. What else?” Dr. Cooley sat motionless, his eyes fixed on Julie’s, waiting patiently as she struggled to find an answer herself.

Julie wriggled her toes inside her shoes, hoping to distract herself from the increasingly uncomfortable feeling that was taking over. But one thought would not be pushed aside. “Something happened?”

He nodded. “Something happened. That’s my guess. Something quite major. Something you’ve clearly been told not to address. And this flat version of Celeste’s brother is an extreme response to an incident. A trauma.”

Julie stiffened.
Trauma
. She didn’t like the sound of that.

Dr. Cooley continued. “The question is, what trauma? But that’s a question that you might not get the answer to. Julie, tread lightly,” he cautioned. “This is a precarious situation, and you don’t know what exactly is going on in this family system. While I admire your compassion, I can’t recommend that you take on the task of trying to tackle this.”

“I know. I feel like I’ve been racking my brain trying to understand this kid, and I have no clue if I’m about to do
something that will set her off. But when Finn comes back, this should all clear up, right?”

Dr. Cooley clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “Maybe, maybe not. Whatever is causing her anxiety may manifest itself in another way. His return could prompt a significant improvement, sure, but I wouldn’t bet on it.”

This was a discouraging thought.

“But think about this,” he offered, “maybe you’re missing something obvious. Don’t overanalyze what you see. I have a feeling that you’re overthinking things. Give it some time, and the pieces of this puzzle might come together.” He laughed. “Of course, they might not. This may be a family that you never fully understand.”

“Believe me, that thought has occurred to me.”

“And what do we know?” He laughed lightly. “Maybe they’re just unusual characters. Not everyone behaves in a traditional manner.”

“It would be nice if they were just quirky, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes. Unlikely, but nice. Julie, there’s another part of this story that I’m wondering about.”

Julie sighed. “What’s that?”

“You told me a lot about Matt, Finn, Erin, and Celeste.” He paused. “I haven’t heard much about the father.”

“That’s because he’s gone a lot. Traveling for work. I really like him, though. He’s gentle and soft-spoken. There’s something earnest about him. He’s very normal, but not in a boring way. Really sweet.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Cooley murmured.

“What’s that mean?”

“You said you were going home today. To see your mother.”

“Right. So?”

“What about
your
father? Will you see him too?”

“You’re implying I have father issues?” Julie scoffed. “I don’t have father issues.”

Dr. Cooley sat silently.

“This is not about me.” Julie shook her head. “This is about a superquirky kid who needs me.”

“But why is it your job to help her? Why are
you
the fixer? Why are
you
the one who wants to put this family back together?”

“Because Celeste responds to me. I don’t know why, but she does. I can do this.”

Dr. Cooley took his glasses off and gently set them down on the table. “Who are you trying to heal?”

“
Celeste
.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course,” Julie said, slightly irritated. “This is not about
me
.”

“No,” he agreed. “Not entirely.”

Julie glanced at the clock on the desk. “I’m really sorry to cut you off, but I should leave now if I’m going to make my flight.”

“Of course.”

“I can’t thank you enough for talking to me,” she said sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

“It’s a fascinating hypothetical family that you’ve told me about.” He winked. “Remember, Julie. Tread lightly.”

Julie’s stomach churned while she watched her cousin Damian shovel marshmallow-topped yams into his mouth. She wanted to kill whoever had come up with the sickening idea of combining marshmallows with a perfectly likeable vegetable. As gross as that was, it didn’t compare to her aunt’s “salad”: Red Hots candies suspended in a green Jell-O mold, with carrot bits and canned mandarin orange slices. At least her mother’s turkey was devoid of anything offensive. That was something to be thankful for.

“Julie, why aren’t you wearing your pilgrim hat? You love the pilgrim hat!” Julie’s uncle Pete raised his voice to be heard over the table noise and pointed to his own. “It doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving if you don’t wear the hat.”

Julie scanned the fourteen family members who sat at the table in her mother’s house in Ohio. Everyone there wore either a pilgrim hat or an Indian hat that had been purchased years ago at the costume shop on Delacorte Avenue. In other years, Julie had found this tradition amusing, but today the absurdity and idiocy had become undeniable. It was undignified. Not to mention the cultural offensiveness factor.

“Consider me the rebellious relative who refuses to conform. I can’t say I’m a fan of supporting stereotypes.” Julie jabbed her fork into the heaping mound of green bean casserole. God, the canned fried onion smell alone was enough to give her indigestion for days.

“Pete, she doesn’t have to wear the hat if she doesn’t want to,” her mother said. Kate stood up and reached into the middle of the table for the cranberry sauce. The hideous white dish was painted with country houses. “My daughter is making a statement, I believe.” As she moved to sit back down, she tipped the paper turkey centerpiece to the side and into the candle flame, immediately turning the gaudy decoration into a fiery display. “Oh, hell!” Kate shrieked.

Everyone simultaneously backed their chairs up about three feet and—amid hollers to call 911 and prayers to higher powers—Uncle Pete upended his water glass on the flames. “No harm, no foul,” he chortled. “Get it? Fowl? Turkey joke.”

Julie patted her napkin on the table with one hand and fanned the smoke away with the other. She sighed and sat back down, pinning herself once again between her cousin Damian and her mother’s sister, Erika.

“So, Julie,” Erika started, “how is school going? Do you love Boston?”

“I do love Boston. It snowed for the first time a few weeks ago, and the city looks even more beautiful at night.”

“Eh, Boston,” Uncle Pete growled. “I went there once. Dirty city with a bunch of bums hanging all around the Common. It’s not that hard not to be homeless.”

Julie gripped her fork and considered the pros and cons of stabbing her uncle’s hand. Had he always been such a dumb jerk? “I’m sure my Economics of Poverty professor would disagree with you.”

“Economics of Poverty? What the hell is that? What’s to teach? If you don’t have any money, there’s no economics to talk about.” Her uncle dropped his fork and looked at Julie’s mother. “Are you actually paying money for your daughter to take a class on being poor?”

Her mother squirmed uncomfortably. “I doubt the class is just about—”

“The class is about exploring and analyzing poverty and understanding the effects of poverty and discrimination on different populations,” Julie explained through clenched teeth. “Currently we’re looking critically at different public policies that attempt to combat the cycle of poverty.”

“You want to end poverty? Get a job like the rest of us. There. Class dismissed.”

“What about the working poor? It’s a little more complicated than that.” Julie practically snorted.

“No, missy, it’s not. Now, we’re not rich or anything, but we work hard and pay our bills. You don’t need some college class to know that poor people bring it on themselves.” Pete’s face had started to turn red with anger. “And these government handouts you’re talking about? Another excuse for these lazy people to sit on their asses and collect cash.”

“So when you lost your job two years ago and tracked down my father for fifteen hundred dollars, he should have told you to suck it up and get a job, the wretched economy be damned?” Julie shook her head and stood up. “Have you even paid him back now that you’re employed again?”

“Julie, sit down!” Kate ordered.

Pete’s face was now scarlet, and the vein next to his eye throbbed disgustingly. “Your father doesn’t give a rat’s ass about that money, and you know it! He also doesn’t give a rat’s ass about—”

“Shut your mouth!” Julie hissed. “Don’t you dare.” She stepped away from the table. “While you’re busy ignoring the systemic, social, cultural, educational, and political contributions to poverty, I have a paper on ignorant, bigoted creeps to finish writing.” Julie walked angrily out of the room, up the stairs, and into her old bedroom.

She shut the door and blocked out most of the dinner-table chaos. She didn’t care in the least that the cousins and uncles and aunts were probably tearing her apart right now. They revolted her even more than the slew of tacky Thanksgiving decorations that her mother had strewn throughout the house.

She sat at her old desk and logged on to the article database that Erin had given her access to. Julie was about to write the best damn term paper on “the collapse of the housing market as it relates to an increase in suburban poverty.”

So there.

Matthew Watkins
At the first Thanksgiving, one of the bloodiest battles ensued when it was discovered that the deliveryman forgot to bring extra duck sauce
.

Finn Is God
is, on this enchanted evening, in love with a wonderful guy
.

Julie Seagle
Going to write a book called “Binge, Screw, Loathe.” It will be about a hateful woman who travels across the US visiting all-you-can-eat brothels
.

Julie giggled at Finn’s reference to the musical
South Pacific
. She knew where he was now.

It was the Friday night of Thanksgiving break, and Julie was itching to get back to Boston and end the torture that this trip had become. She hadn’t bothered to return any of her friends’ phone calls and even had her mom tell callers that she hadn’t come home for the break. Since the scene on Thursday, she’d pretty much been holed up in her bedroom working, and except for one snarly conversation about her lousy attitude, her mother had left her alone. She had nearly finished her paper on poverty and took a break from spell-checking to go online.

Her e-mail held twenty-some messages from friends in Ohio wondering why she wasn’t home; there was nothing worse than
missing the most badass party at Jacob O’Malley’s tonight!
Whatever. Nothing from Seth, but his parents had decided that the holiday weekend in Vermont was going to be technology-free.

She and Celeste had taken to studying at the coffeehouse after school once a week, and Seth had proved to be completely unfazed by Flat Finn’s presence. He was an all-around good guy: smart, funny, a hard worker, sweet to Julie, and patient. Between classes, homework, Seth’s job, and Julie’s long days with Celeste, it’d been hard to get together alone more than once a week, if that. So their relationship was on a slower track than normal. While most of Julie’s friends from school spent nearly every night with their boyfriends in the dorms, Julie and Seth were taking it slow. Being responsible. Smart. Methodical.

But Julie thought that was a good thing. They held hands and messed around a little in his car, and Julie wasn’t rushing into anything else. So far Seth had understood. Not that he wasn’t a good kisser, because he was. And not that Julie didn’t have raging hormones, because she did. She just wasn’t in a huge rush.