Not My Mother by Miranda Smith (lightweight ebook reader .txt) 📕

plan, God laughs, but sometimes it’s a cruel laugh, and it’s like I could hear His merciless snickering when I tried to sleep at night.

I stopped going to my counseling sessions. That was a dumb move. If my probation officer wanted to be a stickler, a thing like that could get me thrown in jail. Thankfully, most probation officers have a bigger workload than they can handle. A few missed sessions barely beeped her radar. Still, I didn’t want to run the chance of making my situation worse, so I returned to the center.

I sat as far away from the receptionist’s desk as I could, away from the windows, away from anyone who might see me and want to strike up a conversation. A half hour with Ms. Lang was all I could stand in one day. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t talk about Cliff—I’d stick to the same little details: job, apartment, bills. Hell, I’d even bring up my childhood to fill the time, anything to keep me from sharing my true feelings.

“Sarah?”

The woman standing in front of me wasn’t Ms. Lang, but I recognized her.

“I’m Amelia Parker,” she said. “We’ve spoken before.”

“I remember.”

For a moment, the heartache of the past month washed away. You’d think after everything I’d just gone through, seeing her again, this perfect woman who seemed to have everything, would make me bitter. But it didn’t.

“Ms. Lang is no longer working at the center,” she said, hugging a clipboard to her chest. “I’ll be handling your session today. Is that okay?”

“Sure.” I stood, almost too quickly. There was an eagerness inside I hadn’t felt since—well, you know. Since Cliff was alive.

I followed her down the same hunter green hallways and entered a room similar in size and layout to that of Ms. Lang’s office. And yet, the energy was clearer. Amelia must have been into feng shui, or something like that. I’d never given that stuff much thought, but I could feel the effects right where I stood. This was a place you wanted to stay, and Amelia was someone you wanted to speak to.

“Let me just glance at your file,” she said.

Staring at her, I noticed her figure looked bigger than before. Was she pregnant? I wanted to ask, but knew it was rude. Instead, I focused on her face, expecting a judgmental flinch when she reached the details of the convenience store incident, waiting for her friendly expression to fall.

She placed the folder on her desk and smiled.

“It looks like you’ve been coming here over two years. Have you found counseling helpful?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s helpful about it?”

“I… um.” I started looking around the room, as though I’d stepped on stage and forgotten my lines. Ms. Lang never asked questions like this. She barely made eye contact.

“Let me rephrase,” Amelia said. “You said sort of. What doesn’t work about it?”

“You know, we just kind of talk about what I did to get arrested, what I’m doing now. We don’t really go beyond that.”

Amelia nodded. Like she knew exactly what I meant.

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Talking to a total stranger.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Maybe if I tell you a little about me, you’ll feel better opening up?”

I nodded.

Amelia talked about her family, her southern roots, her husband and the types of places they liked to go on vacation. Vacation. Let’s go to the city, Cliff had said. This happened sometimes, where I’d hear his voice so clearly it felt like he was in the room with me, but of course he wasn’t. Only Amelia was here, and she was talking to me like I was a human being, more than an appointment slot in her agenda.

“And that’s about all there is to know about me,” she said, finishing. She rested her palms on the desk and waited for me to speak.

“Have any kids?”

I’m not sure where that question came from, other than I’d been thinking about her stomach, trying to figure out if it had gotten any bigger since the last time we spoke. Idiot, I scolded myself. Classless idiot.

“Working on it.” It was an eloquent way of dodging the question. She smiled, but this time there was a tightness around the corners of her mouth. Still, she didn’t seem offended.

“I’ve always wanted children,” I said, looking down, unsure why I couldn’t shake this topic. It’s not something I ever talked about with Ms. Lang. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“How come?”

Amelia’s eyes didn’t look away. She wanted to know. She wanted to hear my answer.

“My boyfriend… um, Cliff… he just died.”

“Oh, Sarah. I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, the floodgates opened. I told her everything. About how we first got together, how he was the only person who made me feel loved. Like he needed me as much as I needed him. I told her how excited he was to build a future with me, that he wanted a family and all the other things I wanted too. I told her about the car. I explained what his body looked like, lying broken in the middle of the street. I told her how angry I was that the police showed little interest in finding out who killed some line cook from Buster’s. I told her I’d stopped going to work and never left my apartment. I told her Jamie had left, hopped on a plane to start over. Something I’d never be able to do. I was stuck here, alone, not sure what my next step should be.

When I finished, it was like I’d surrendered all my strength, all my tears. But instead of feeling exhausted, I felt clean. Pure. I’d purged and was waiting to be filled with something new.

“I’m sorry. You must wonder why your life has unfolded like this. I wish I could provide you with answers.” She reached across the table and held my hand. There were tears in her eyes. Ms. Lang never seemed to care. “All I can do is give you options.”

“Options.”

“Possible steps for what to do next.” She opened