One We Love, The Read Online Free PDF Page B

stalled at
the time of life that she started drinking. Which means, despite a graduate
degree and a respected profession in the mental health field, I’ve been a
teenager passing as an adult for several years. I’m working on it.
    Since I was already immersed in immaturity, my inclination
was to blame my response on the Amazons. That felt comfy. Clotilde and Lachlyn had
certainly put out strong bitchvibes, but my instinctive bitch-back wasn’t going
to help the situation, no matter how gratifying.
    Plus, with Regina’s death and the strange circumstances
around it, I was just too emotional to fully trust my gut. Was there some
strange purpose behind the power-play going on at Devlin House, or was it
simply a battle of wills with two domineering women? Hard to tell.
    The delay gave me time to make arrangements at the clinic for
the grief group. I also thought to include any of our coworkers who might
benefit from attending, but no one took me up on it. Not surprising and nothing
to do with how anyone felt about Regina, I imagined. We therapists are just
more comfortable being the helpers than the helped.
    The clinic reopened on Thursday morning, so many of my
coworkers claimed to be too busy for the group that evening. My friend Hannah
agreed to cocounsel, though, and that was nice. Hannah is a health-conscious,
earth-mother type who was thoughtful enough to bring snacks and tea, which
hadn’t occurred to me. If it had, I would probably have brought something laden
with chocolate. Instead, Hannah chose to bring in her “special” muffins made,
she informed us, with natural molasses and acorns she’d picked up from the
ground herself. They required a lot of chewing and were gluten-free.    
    Clotilde didn’t call until Tuesday. At 6:00 a.m. A time she
could be certain she wouldn’t find me in the office. Her message said that the
board had given temporary approval (whatever that was) for me to review
Regina’s current client list only. I interpreted this to mean I was sort of
okayed to do not much. I wouldn’t have access to Regina’s closed files unless
the full board met, reviewed the will, and gave official approval. They were
seeking advice from their lawyer, too. Lastly, they required a shelter employee
be present to “supervise” my involvement. Apparently, they were insisting on a
reviewer for my reviewing. The whole thing reminded me of the Bee-Watcher
Watcher in a Dr. Seuss book my mother used to read me. But it didn’t make me feel
lucky.
    Lachlyn was my assigned bee-watcher watcher.

 
     
     
    CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
     
    I made sure to get
to the shelter later that very evening. No sense in dragging it out, but
irritated at the delay over the weekend and the ridiculous restrictions, my
inner bitch tugged on the leash a little. She decided we needed to make a
point. Sometimes I have very little control over her. It was worse when we
drank.
    Astrid once again opened the door. This time the group room
door was shut, the soft sibilant sound of women’s voices dipping and rising
just beyond. Astrid put a finger to her lips, shushing me, then motioned me to
follow. I couldn’t tell if she was protecting the residents’ confidentiality or
merely trying to keep my presence a secret. We retreated to Clotilde’s office.
Astrid, still silent, circled around the desk and took a seat. Her expression
was a careful blank, no vestige of the welcome that she’d previously extended.
    “Clotilde told me to give you the list of Regina’s clients.
Her current ones, that is. A few of them are still in residence, but the others
were seen as outpatients. Their contact information will be in their individual
files, but be sure you read the notes sections to make sure that it’s safe to
contact them at home. We don’t want you to put anyone at any more risk than is necessary.”
    “Of course not. I don’t want to put anyone at risk.”
    “Well, that won’t change the fact that you probably will. I
don’t know