I picked Halley up the next day and got her settled at home, then headed to therapy.

I didn't want to go. I didn't want to talk about things, or deal with med changes, or examine myself or my motives. I just wanted to sleep.

But Halley had hugged and kissed me and said gently, "Tell her you're sad, that you're not yourself. She can help. You deserve to feel good."

So I got there at eleven and slunk into the room, depositing myself into my usual spot and telling Therapist Sarah everything, from the insecurities to the negative thoughts to the nightmares, of which I'd had more.

"I'm a mess," I concluded somewhat miserably, sipping my fizzy water. They weren't that good but somehow they tasted right for therapy.

Sarah laughed kindly. "You're not a mess, Mary. You've had some difficult situations arise, that's all. You're handling it well."

I gave her a skeptical look. "I couldn't even give her the shot," I pointed out, the hugest thing in my head right then. 

She adjusted her tortoiseshell glasses. "And so Natasha gave it to her, and she was fine," she reminded me.

"But what if it happens again and Natasha's not there?" Couldn't she see that this was the problem?

"I see," she said thoughtfully. She crossed her legs and tapped her fingers on her knee. "Would it help to practice with an empty pen, do you think? I could get one."

The thought appealed to me. "Maybe," I admitted. "But what about everything else? These thoughts are borderline voices. And the visions are so real, like they're scenes I've been at. And I'm so sad, about stupid shit. I think my brain is broken." I tried to sound like I was joking, but here came the waterworks. 

"My poor brave girl," Sarah said firmly, coming to sit next to me with the Kleenex and hugging me with one arm. "Your brain is not broken. It might be unbalanced, but we can fix that, or at least make it a lot better. Especially the intrusive thoughts."

"I wish we had a memory eraser in real life, or like one of those Men In Black flashy things," I said, taking some tissues from the Toy Story box. 

"I know," she said, giving me another squeeze before returning to her chair. She jotted something down on her clipboard. "But until then, let's look at your medications; I'm going to make a few adjustments. They shouldn't throw you off too much while you're getting used to them."

"Okay." I played with the tab on my can. "I just, I look at Paramjeet, who has real problems, and real reasons to be depressed, and my life is going well, and I have Halley and the kids and everything. So why can't I be happy?"

Her compassion was never ending. "Your struggles are still valid, even if others are struggling more," she reminded me. "Okay?"

I nodded, blowing my nose. 

"And while things are indeed going well, you still have a lot going on, with Hazel, and Jasper being upset, and Paramjeet. Then to have your PTSD triggered, it's no wonder you're having a hard time."

Being reminded of those things helped. "I guess," I allowed. 

"But we'll get you feeling better, just watch. I always do, don't I?" she teased.

"You do," I admitted, because it was eventually true. 

"Freezing is a common reaction with PTSD. You feel the same feelings of helplessness and fear that occurred during the accident, and you become physically incapable of moving, just as you felt. I'm going to give you a list of things that you can do if it happens again, and I'd like to implement something called tapping therapy, which we can start next week. Most importantly, know that it's not your fault."

I nodded again, thankful and relieved. 

"You'll get better, Mary. You already have, and the progress will continue. This may feel like a large setback because you're already dealing with the extra depression, but you will be able to move past it, I promise."

I loved this woman. "Okay," I said, trusting her. I thought of something else. "Can Paramjeet come to see you? Or if she wants someone new can you recommend someone awesome?"

"She's welcome to see me if she wants, or if not, here's the number of my colleague Rosalia. She's quite a bit younger than I am, and I taught her everything I know, so you can rest assured she's good." Her eyes crinkled as she handed me the paper. 

"I'll tell her, thanks." I folded it into my pocket just as we heard the bell above the door signalling her next patient had arrived. 

"Saved by the bell," she joked as she often did. "Take care, Mary, and don't forget to give yourself grace. You're doing a marvelous job."

I had my doubts about that but knew I couldn't really trust what I was thinking and feeling, so I was cautiously hopeful when I stopped at the pharmacy. 

Everything was calm when I got home, and I curled up with Halley for a nap. When we got up we built blanket forts with everyone and watched Disney movies. 

By dinner time we had a houseful; Leif, Paramjeet, the older kids, Charlotte, Joey, and Nate. The latter three were making tacos in the kitchen while singing show tunes, which was apparently Nate's thing. Hank was next door with Ruby and Gwen.

"Uncle Leeeif," Shiloh was saying at the computer, where they were playing a rousing game of Plants Vs. Zombies. "You can't just put the corn wherever you want. You just have no STRAGEDY, that's your problem." She shook her head. "You'll never get past eight levels this way."

"Yes, Uncle Leif, your stragedy is a real tragedy," Paramjeet told him, but her heart wasn't in it. She kept her eyes on her phone as PK purred in her lap, doing happy feet. She was quiet most of the time, which was unlike her, but she was clearly just surviving. I'd broached the subject of therapy with her earlier, offering her both numbers, and she'd said she would call. I ached to do something to help her, but other than being supportive, there was nothing.

Halley and I snickered at the quip, Poe joining us with a cackle from his spot on the TV. She was laying with her head in my lap as I brushed her hair. Meet the Robinsons played quietly on the TV but only Jasper was watching, sitting cross legged in front of it with his finger in his mouth. At least he'd slept the night before.

"I starrrve," Halley said, sitting up and yawning. "It smells so good, go see if there's anything ready?" She gave me a little push and puppy dog eyes and I went. Benadryl helped with the swelling and itching and her hand had improved a lot. We'd split a pot brownie too, which was making me feel better.

Charlotte and Nate were sitting at the table across from each other, she dicing tomatoes, he shredding cheese and singing the end of some happy song. His voice was amazing. Like, opera-singer amazing.

Char pretended to yawn. "I thought you said you were gonna learn the old ones while you were gone," she scoffed. "The true beauties, like from Carousel."

"Oh yeah, Lottie? Did I say that?" he asked, mock-insulted. "The ones like If I Loved You? Sorry, apparently I've never heard of her."

"Oh my God, dude, don't encourage her," my brother groaned from where he stood stirring the aromatic ground turkey. 

"Shut it, you," she told him, turning her attention back to Nate. "Sing it, Nathan," she demanded, pointing the small knife at him. Her pink hair looked good on her, and she'd just had it cut almost to her chin, which showed off her sharp jawline. The expertly applied black eyeliner made her look more like twenty than seventeen. She'd lightened up quite a bit since her father had done us all the favor of dying.

"Sing what?" he asked innocently, putting a pinch of the shredded cheese in his mouth.

"Sing, or die," she declared dramatically.

He chose wisely, clearing his throat theatrically. "If I loved you, time and again I would try to say, all I'd want you to know," he sang unselfconsciously. "f I loved you, words wouldn't come in an easy way. Round in circles I'd go, longin' to tell you, but afraid and shy."

Char and Joey both joined in; Charlotte had always had a thing for musicals and Joey didn't mind them much. They couldn't sing like Nate, but the three of them had a harmony thing happening that was more or less beautiful, to the point I felt like I was interrupting something. I sat in one of the empty chairs as unobtrusively as possible and watched my big little brother flipping tortilla shells and having fun with his friends. I'd at least done right by him, and that felt good.

They finished and I applauded as I got a plate, stealing a few greasy shells from the pile. "Halley's hungry. Did you put garlic salt on these already?"

"Yeah," he said, spooning meat into them as I held the plate. My stomach growled.

"That was good," Char said of the song, in satisfaction. "Nate's who we lived with last summer, before The General died," she told me as I got tomatoes from her. "Then his mom took him to Africa to do the missionary thing for a year. They just got back." She kicked his foot under the table, judging from his reaction. "We missed his punk ass."

"It was a long year," Joey agreed, putting the plate of tortillas on the table and stealing cheese.

Nate slapped his hand. "Boy, this hard-earned shredded cheese is for the dang tacos, get off. Took me like half an hour."

Joey stole another pinch and put it in his mouth quickly, smirking. 

"Why, I oughtta . . . " Nate said, guarding the cheese. "And yes, damn, it was a long year, because I love indoor plumbing, and I love sleeping in, and I love television and wi-fi and Starbucks and you guys, and I had none of those very important, very crucial things." He shook his head sadly, drinking some water and examining the bottle. "Clean water? Pure luxury."

"That's pretty cool, though. What were you doing there?" I spooned some sour cream onto the tacos.

"Building houses," he said, striking a pose and flexing, though he wore a hoodie and so remained undefined. "Huts, whatever. They were shelters, anyway, and that's what matters when you live in extreme poverty."

I thought about a whole year in a strange land, with the inescapable daily sadness of being surrounded by starving, suffering people. "That must have been difficult at times."

He sobered up a little, meeting my gaze thoughtfully. "It certainly was," he allowed. "It cer-tain-ly was. Especially the babies, the kids."

"Do A Whole New World," Halley called from the couch, not hearing the rest of the conversation. "And where'd that pretty server get to with my tacoooooos?" Edibles made her silly.

"Coming, coming," I told her, getting a water from the fridge. I liked mine room temp but she liked hers cold. I went back into the living room. "Tacos are ready for whoever's hungry," I announced, handing Halley the plate as she sat up. Paramjeet had either gone to the bathroom or back to bed.

My girlfriend took a bite of one. "Oooh, thank you, yum. My compliments to the chefs." 

"Uncle Leif! That one's GETTING THROUGH!" Shiloh said in alarm. "USE THE SQUASH! USE IT! Quick before he awwww, zombie ate your brain," she concluded sadly. "Oh well, I told you so. I'm getting my tacos now." She slid off her chair and disappeared into the kitchen, wearing a purple kimono and a green felt beret. 

"I'm trying to watch this movie," Jasper said in exasperation over his shoulder, sitting a foot from the TV now.

"Tuuuug, bring me food too," Leif pleaded, leaning back dangerously far in the computer chair. 

"Get your own food," I told him. Most of the blanket forts had collapsed. "Lazy ass." My phone rang in my pocket. "Shit," I said under my breath, because everyone I wanted to talk to was in the house. 

It was my other brother, Noah, the eighteen year old genius, which I mouthed to Halley in answer to her questioning look. "Hey, hi," I said, pleasantly surprised because we only talked to him a once in awhile and hadn't seen him in a year. He'd been home for one night before going to Washington, DC to work for NASA, though our house hadn't been home to him since he left for boarding school at eight. Now he worked seven hours away in Pasadena at one of their labs. "How are you?"

He cleared his throat, a nervous tic he'd never outgrown. "I'm well. How are things there?"

"Auntie Mary, do we have any of the just-orange shredded cheese and not mixed with the white shredded cheese?" Shiloh asked at my side, tugging my shirt.

"I'm on the phone with Uncle Noah," I told her. She of course barely knew him. "No, just the mixed kind because it was a block of colby jack. You like that one fine. Sorry," I said into the phone, heading for the porch.

"But I like the other kind better," she reminded me as I shut the door behind me. 

"It's okay," Noah told me. There was a sharp tap and I opened it again to let Poe slip out. "Would it be alright if I come there for Thanksgiving and possibly stay one night?"

My heart leapt, especially since it wouldn't involve a plane anymore. He'd declined returning for the last several holidays, what with Hazel being such a mess and all. She'd always resented how everything came so easily to him, and wasn't that nice to him even as an adult. Surprise. "We'd love that, of course!" Tone it down, Mary. "I mean, there's plenty of room, absolutely. Hazel's not welcome here right now, so you don't even have to deal with her."

"Good," he said, as I sat on the porch and looked at Leif's pack of cigarettes longingly. Poe settled next to me, eyeing the bushes for wayward mice. "Is our mother going to be there?" They'd reunited during his visit the previous fall, though he'd been unimpressed and distant, of which I tried not to show how much I approved. He didn't remember her, having been barely six when she left.

"I don't know," I said, realizing I hadn't though that far ahead. The year before she'd still been having supervised visits with the kids, and we hadn't invited her. This year things were different and it would be nothing short of rude to exclude her. "Shit, probably. I'll have to ask her anyway, and yeah, she'll probably come. Will that keep you away?" Please say no, please say no.

"No." I heard the crack of a can opening. "Okay, well, I'll text you my itinerary when I know it. Have a good night."

He was always short with words. "I can't wait to see you, I love you," I rushed to say.

"Love you too," he answered by rote, and hung up.  

I looked at the bird. "We might actually have a nice Thanksgiving for once, without Hazel here to fuck it up," I mused. 

Poe ruffled his feathers and made a noise that sounded doubtful. I didn't blame him; my sister always found a way to ruin everyone's good time, as I well knew. Because misery loves company.