Chapter Six

 

Thursday, November 14th, 4:00 p.m.

 

The receptionist opened the office door for me, and I went inside. Three adults sat around a table. I pulled out a chair and joined them. Two women and one guy, but my dad didn’t seem outnumbered. I hadn’t actually seen him in a while. I was at cheer practice or prepping for a football game when he was supposed to pick up the kids on Fridays, and one of them usually helped Chrissy toddle inside when he returned them on Sunday afternoons.

He had a new haircut. I had to wonder if the stylist had added blond highlights since there wasn’t any gray at his temples. He looked clean in his old-guy manager attire of a white shirt, black slacks, and a tie, so he must be going to the late shift at the tire store. He sure hadn’t come from there. He’d lost the little paunch. Oh, yeah. He was definitely forty-five going on barely thirty, too young for a sixteen-year-old stepdaughter. His new girlfriend must have him eating healthy. He smiled at me. I nodded back at him. “Hi, Rick.”

“What did you call me?” His smile faded into a frown.

“Rick.” I met his blue gaze. “Would you prefer that I call you ‘Mr. Miller’ or ‘sir’? I didn’t realize I’d overstepped the boundaries until Mom told me last night that I have to drop out of school. You’re not my father, and you won’t pay for me to stay at Lincoln any longer.”

Absolute silence and then he turned a furious look on my mother. “I said I couldn’t pay more child support for my kids and that tuition was coming due. I didn’t say Vicky had to leave school.”

“How am I supposed to make ends meet?” Mom glared back at him. “The house eats money and so do the kids. The holidays are coming and that means more expenses, not less. If Vicky goes to public school, it will save a hefty chunk.”

“How?” I asked. I pulled out a chair and sat down, giving her a steady once-over. She wasn’t wearing her casino uniform, no surprise. Instead, she’d opted for a white dress with a red belt, cosmetics, and it looked like she’d taken time to get a manicure. She and Rick were on the same page of trying to make the other person suffer. Weren’t they supposed to be the adults?

I folded my hands on the table and focused on sounding as mature as possible. Somebody needed to be an adult in this room, and it sure wasn’t the two of them. “Switching cheer squads means new uniforms and those are pricy. Pioneer has different colors, and when I called at lunch, the coach said she would walk on hot coals to have me. I don’t even have to try out. She’ll shuffle the flyers around so I have a top slot. She says they’re on a different schedule so I can easily run for election to the student council when I’m enrolled there, and the National Honor Society doesn’t give a whoop and a holler where I attend classes.”

“I didn’t know you were a cheerleader, Vicky.” This time it was the counselor. Petite, plump, with her white hair in a bun, Ingrid O’Hara looked like a grandma from an old-time TV ad, especially in a light blue polyester pantsuit from the seventies. “Didn’t your pregnancy interfere with that?”

“What?” My jaw just about hit the big wooden table. I stared at her, feeling like the old lady just witch-slapped me. “I’m not pregnant. I’ve never been pregnant. Hello! What’s going on here? Are you insane?”

“Chrissy.” The elderly woman glanced around the table, a frown deepening the lines on her wrinkled face. “Isn’t it time to get everything out on the table instead of ignoring the proverbial elephant in the middle of the room? The real reason Vicky needs to go to the alternative school is that she can have her daughter with her. You and Rick have done a good job trying to help her, Gretchen, but there comes a point when it’s no longer help, but enabling.”

“Whoa! Hold on there!” I jumped up. The chair fell over behind me. “Chrissy isn’t my baby. She’s my sister. Okay, my half-sister, since Rick is making a big deal of not being my father.”

He gave me a long-suffering look like I was picking on him along with everyone else. “That wasn’t personal, Vicky. It’s just the money. I can barely afford to pay three hundred dollars for each of my five kids every month. I care about you. I just can’t pay for you too.”

“Yeah, right. So, that’s why you walked out on my sixteenth birthday?” Sarcasm dripped from each word. Well, at least I hoped it did. Better to sound pissed than heartbroken. “You didn’t want to give me a present? And I’m not Robin. I didn’t ask for a classic sports car. All I wanted was a cake I didn’t have to make, ice cream that I didn’t have to buy, and a gift certificate for a few riding lessons.”

“I didn’t know that you separated on Vicky’s birthday.” Ingrid O’Hara wrote something down. “Did she do something wrong, Gretchen? Is that why you were trying to punish her, Rick?”

“Hello!” I just about yelled it. “I’m in the room. Will you ask me? I didn’t do anything. I never do anything except clean and cook and babysit their kids. I finished my freshman year with a 4.0 last June, and I will keep my GPA again this semester because my teachers are freaking amazing. They bust their butts to help me. It’s more than I get from these drama divas.”

“Really? You mean Chrissy actually isn’t your child?” Ingrid turned to eyeball my mother and stepdad again. “A little clarity, please. Who are the baby’s parents?”

“Did you even hear me say that I’m not her mother?” I planted my fists on my hips. “I’ve never had sex. If I was Catholic, I’d undoubtedly become a nun. I’m so never having kids, being a mom, or running a household. It totally sucks! When I have my own training barn, I’m hiring a cleaning service for the house, and I won’t even load the dishwasher.”

“Are you serious?” Another huge frown from the counselor. “Or is this all teen angst? Denial? The child calls you ‘Mama Vicky’ or ‘Momma’ most of the time.”

“I started that as a joke a couple years ago with the older ones,” Rick intervened. “I’d get home from work and Vicky would have everything under control. She’d have picked up the kids from daycare on her way home from school, cooked dinner, and be supervising homework. So, I’d walk in the door and say something like, ‘Hey, Mama Vicky. How are things going? Need any help?’”

“And the baby isn’t yours, Vicky?” Dr. O’Hara asked again.

“What are you, freaking senile? I’ve said it and said it and said it.” I turned my anger on my mother, grateful I wasn’t crying yet. “Why don’t you admit that she’s yours instead of making me out to be some kind of slut?”

Mom heaved a huge sigh and shook her head. “Could you just stop overreacting, Victoria? Save the drama for somebody else. It’s a reasonable mistake. I understand why Dr. O’Hara made it.”

“So do I.” Ingrid began making notes. “You lied to me. Perhaps not by commission but by omission. You led me to believe that your eldest daughter gave birth to your youngest. Your parenting plan has serious flaws. You don’t have any idea of who will be taking care of your children. Forcing the oldest one to drop out of school to take care of the younger ones may have worked a hundred years ago. Not today, not now, and not in my office.”

Tears started to slide down my cheeks. I slumped back into my chair. I buried my face in my hands. I couldn’t believe I’d actually yelled at my mother here, but I also didn’t have a clue she’d really trashed me to this headshrinker. Robin had been right about me going to the alternative school, and I’d figured she was just messing with me.

“Okay, I admit we need to make some adjustments.” Rick sounded like the voice of male reason, trying to deal with hysterical females. “But, we need to move ahead on the divorce. This holding pattern has lasted six months. It’s time to progress.”

“I couldn’t agree more. From what you’ve said, the pattern of dumping your responsibilities on a sixteen-year-old didn’t start six months ago. It began years ago.” The counselor pushed a box of tissues at me. “It ends now. Next week, I want a written schedule from each of you, and I don’t mean Vicky. I mean you, Rick. And Gretchen too. You are the parents, and you will divide the responsibilities fifty-fifty.”

The two of them immediately started blaming each other for the confusion but stopped when Ingrid held up her hand like a cop or kindergarten teacher. She turned to me. “I’m so sorry, Vicky, for the part I inadvertently played in this. I suggested a different school because I thought the baby was actually yours. I hope you can forgive me.”

I nodded and blew my nose. “I honestly love my little sisters and brothers. I know that I’m not supposed to anymore because we’re not really related.”

“And I think I know who told you that.” Ingrid leaned across the table toward me, shooting a glare at my mother. “Honey, if they didn’t have you, the five of them would be in a world of hurt. Please continue loving them and don’t blame them for your parents’ immaturity.”

I nodded. “I don’t mind taking care of them sometimes, but I want a life too.”

“As long as it’s only babysitting sometimes.” Ingrid stood and came around to pat my shoulder. “You have two healthy parents, sweetheart. That’s more than many of my clients, and yours will each step up to do their share.”

“It’s never happened before,” I said, wiping my eyes. “They’ll join forces and get rid of you. Thanks for believing me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, and if they try any hijinks, my case file follows them.” Ingrid patted my back again. “Obviously, this family needs more counseling than I realized. The little ones are in good psychological shape, undoubtedly because of the love and support their oldest sister provides. However, she needs help, so I want her to see me privately once a week.”

“And we’ll see to it that things improve at home.” Rick oozed sympathy. Was that real? Or was he playing a part for the counselor?

“I know you will.” Ingrid returned to her papers and began writing more notes. “I’m referring Vicky to a support group for at-risk teens immediately after her appointments with me on Tuesday afternoons.”

“At what time?” Mom asked. “She needs to pick up the kids at the elementary school.”

“Did you hear a word I said?” Ingrid made another note. “Gretchen, there are five days in a school week. Vicky will bring the kids here on Thursdays so I can see them.”

I lifted my hand and when she looked at me, I said, “Can we come a bit later? I really need to stay for the entire cheer practice, not skip out a half-hour early. I can get the kids at daycare and we’ll still be here by four-thirty.”

“Works for me,” Ingrid said, eyeing her paperwork. “That leaves Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I don’t care how you divide it up, Gretchen, but one of you will pick up your kids on each of those days. I will be in touch to make sure it happens.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Rick said. “We can work this out ourselves.”

“No, because your way of working it out is to download the responsibilities onto a child,” Ingrid told him. “I will follow up on what I want done. Of course, I’ll be sending copies of my reports and assessments to the judge handling your divorce case.”

* * * *

Thursday, November 14th, 5:15 p.m.

 

“I can’t believe you embarrassed me like that.” Mom glared over her shoulder at me as I buckled Chrissy into her car seat. “What were you thinking?”

“That I wanted to stay at my school.” I shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that Dr. O’Hara had issues with me giving up my life for you and Rick? She’s never said that to me. She kept saying we’re in a transitional stage and things will improve.”

Another dirty look and Mom said, “I never told you not to call him ‘Dad’. I was mortified when you kept calling him by his first name.”

I tuned her out while I checked on Linda and Lance. He looked worried. I ruffled his hair and winked at him. Then, I leaned in and whispered, “Hey, if she’s on my case, she’s leaving you alone, right?”

He nodded, a faint smile trembling across his face. “Okay. What’s for dinner?”

“I have no idea. We’ll figure it out when we get home.”

I got in the passenger seat and allowed Mom the privilege of ranting for another two blocks. When she paused for breath, I said, “I’m the one who should be pissed, not you.”

“What are you going off about now, Victoria?”

“Come on. You slammed me to Dr. O’Hara.” I glanced at the kids and realized I had a captive audience. I couldn’t let them know how badly it hurt to find out what Mom thought of me, or that she rejected them big-time. “We both know what you told her about me was a lie. How do you think that makes me feel? My own mother trashed me to a perfect stranger and now I’m stuck going to group therapy with a bunch of losers. Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot for wrecking my life one more time.”

“Wow, are you screwed or what?” Kevin chirped from the back seat. “How can you go to therapy, Vicky? Who will take care of us?”

“Mom or your dad,” I said. “Dr. O’Hara has a plan.”

“Well, she better wake up quick,” Kevin announced. “That’s never going to work. And during our session today, she told me that I’m not old enough to babysit the other kids yet.”