“I don’t want to talk about what happened to her,” I said. “I’m not ready to do that!”
Maria Temple was very calm. “Don’t worry, Eleanor. We’ll take this one step at a time.
Acknowledging that Marianne is your sister is a huge thing. We’ll get to the rest, in time.”
“I wish I could talk about it now,” I said, furious with myself. “But I can’t.”
“Of course, Eleanor,” she said, calmly. She paused.
“Do you think that’s because you can’t remember what happened to Marianne? Or is it because you don’t want to?”
Her voice was very gentle. “I don’t want to,” I said slowly, quietly.
I rested my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. “Be gentle with yourself, Eleanor,” Maria said. “You’re doing incredibly well.”
I almost laughed. It certainly didn’t feel like I was doing well.
Before and after the fire. Something fundamental had gone missing in the flames: Marianne.
“What do I do?” I said, desperate, suddenly, to move forward, to get better, to live.
“How do I fix this? How do I fix me?” Dr. Temple put down her pen and spoke firmly but gently.
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