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Authors: julie ann dawson
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Couples Counseling
October 21st
Scott sits across from me at the kitchen table, staring into his coffee cup while shaking his head. “I just don’t think this is healthy, sis,” he finally says.
“It’s not like I’m going to the actual viewing,” I reply.
“What exactly do you expect to accomplish with this anyway? The guy got what was coming to him.”
“Don’t say that. Nobody deserves to die in a car accident. There is a difference between justice and vengeance. I wanted him to pay for what he did. I didn’t want him to die.”
“Neither did I, but maybe this is some sort of cosmic justice.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“Nancy, there is nothing to be gained by visiting the grave. What are you going to do, perform a séance? Take a necromancer with you to speak to the dead?”
“I just can’t shake the feeling that I caused this, somehow.”
“You are a demonologist, sis. Not a psion. It isn’t like you took control of the guy’s mind and forced him to ram his car into a telephone pole. Didn’t they say they think it was a heart attack?”
“I know. I know.”
“ You know but you are still beating yourself up over something you had zero to do with.”
The kitchen turns cold and Mom manifests near the sink. “You didn’t tell me Scott was coming over!” she says excitedly. “Did he bring copies of Laurie’s ultrasounds?”
I turn toward the sink. “No, he just stopped over to yell at me.”
Scott looks from me to the sink and back at me again. “Is…Mom here?” I nod. “Oh.” He waves towards the sink.
“Tell your brother after all this nonsense with Vivika is over, he needs to bring Megan by so I can see her.”
“Mom wants you to bring Megan over after Samhain. And copies of the ultrasounds.”
“Um, yeah. Um, sure.”
“Tell him I don’t want to hear ‘um, sure.’ I want to see my granddaughter.”
“We’ll totally schedule something after Samhain,” I say.
“Did...did you tell Mom what you are doing?”
“What are you doing, Nancy?” asks Mom.
“Why did you do that?” I say to my brother.
“Do what? I just asked you a question! I can’t talk to Mom directly! I can’t see her!”
“You are deflecting.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve always done that. You would get into trouble or something and you change the subject to me to avoid confrontation.”
“Nancy, stop arguing with your brother. This is why he doesn’t visit more often!”
“ Now you’re taking his side?”
“I’m not taking sides! Hestia’s Hearth! How old are the two of you and you still sound like five-year-olds? And what is he talking about?”
“I was just…I was thinking about…I might go visit Williams’ grave after the funeral. Make peace with…this.”
“Nancy Clarice. I should have named you Atlas for all the weight you put on your own shoulders.”
“If it makes you feel better, Scott, Mom apparently agrees with you.”
The man who killed Mom in a drunk-driving accident died a couple of days ago in another accident. From what I understand, he had a heart attack and crashed into a pole. I had been so furious at him because the prosecutor had dropped all of the serious charges and he was basically going to walk with a slap on the wrist. I wanted him to pay and I was angry. But after hearing the news, I’ve been unable to shake this nagging feeling that there is something wrong about the circumstances of his death. I didn’t actually curse him nor do anything other than yell in my own home. But I still feel like he’s dead because of me.
“Honey, you need to stop beating yourself up over the accidents, both mine and his,” says Mom. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go pay him a visit. If anyone should confront him, it should be me. And it would be cathartic for me to give him a piece of my mind anyway.”
“I doubt he’ll be there.”
“If you don’t think he’ll be there, then why are you
October 21st
Scott sits across from me at the kitchen table, staring into his coffee cup while shaking his head. “I just don’t think this is healthy, sis,” he finally says.
“It’s not like I’m going to the actual viewing,” I reply.
“What exactly do you expect to accomplish with this anyway? The guy got what was coming to him.”
“Don’t say that. Nobody deserves to die in a car accident. There is a difference between justice and vengeance. I wanted him to pay for what he did. I didn’t want him to die.”
“Neither did I, but maybe this is some sort of cosmic justice.”
“That isn’t how it works.”
“Nancy, there is nothing to be gained by visiting the grave. What are you going to do, perform a séance? Take a necromancer with you to speak to the dead?”
“I just can’t shake the feeling that I caused this, somehow.”
“You are a demonologist, sis. Not a psion. It isn’t like you took control of the guy’s mind and forced him to ram his car into a telephone pole. Didn’t they say they think it was a heart attack?”
“I know. I know.”
“ You know but you are still beating yourself up over something you had zero to do with.”
The kitchen turns cold and Mom manifests near the sink. “You didn’t tell me Scott was coming over!” she says excitedly. “Did he bring copies of Laurie’s ultrasounds?”
I turn toward the sink. “No, he just stopped over to yell at me.”
Scott looks from me to the sink and back at me again. “Is…Mom here?” I nod. “Oh.” He waves towards the sink.
“Tell your brother after all this nonsense with Vivika is over, he needs to bring Megan by so I can see her.”
“Mom wants you to bring Megan over after Samhain. And copies of the ultrasounds.”
“Um, yeah. Um, sure.”
“Tell him I don’t want to hear ‘um, sure.’ I want to see my granddaughter.”
“We’ll totally schedule something after Samhain,” I say.
“Did...did you tell Mom what you are doing?”
“What are you doing, Nancy?” asks Mom.
“Why did you do that?” I say to my brother.
“Do what? I just asked you a question! I can’t talk to Mom directly! I can’t see her!”
“You are deflecting.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve always done that. You would get into trouble or something and you change the subject to me to avoid confrontation.”
“Nancy, stop arguing with your brother. This is why he doesn’t visit more often!”
“ Now you’re taking his side?”
“I’m not taking sides! Hestia’s Hearth! How old are the two of you and you still sound like five-year-olds? And what is he talking about?”
“I was just…I was thinking about…I might go visit Williams’ grave after the funeral. Make peace with…this.”
“Nancy Clarice. I should have named you Atlas for all the weight you put on your own shoulders.”
“If it makes you feel better, Scott, Mom apparently agrees with you.”
The man who killed Mom in a drunk-driving accident died a couple of days ago in another accident. From what I understand, he had a heart attack and crashed into a pole. I had been so furious at him because the prosecutor had dropped all of the serious charges and he was basically going to walk with a slap on the wrist. I wanted him to pay and I was angry. But after hearing the news, I’ve been unable to shake this nagging feeling that there is something wrong about the circumstances of his death. I didn’t actually curse him nor do anything other than yell in my own home. But I still feel like he’s dead because of me.
“Honey, you need to stop beating yourself up over the accidents, both mine and his,” says Mom. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll go pay him a visit. If anyone should confront him, it should be me. And it would be cathartic for me to give him a piece of my mind anyway.”
“I doubt he’ll be there.”
“If you don’t think he’ll be there, then why are you
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