Free Unbound by Georgia Bell Page A

therapy was a panacea. I think she imagined
that Alex simply knew the right combination of words, like a magic spell, that
would make my problems disappear. Not that she understood what my problems
were. What she really wanted to know was how soon I would be ready to go to
university. She tried to hide it, but I knew she was embarrassed by my anxiety,
as well as by my inability to act like a regular teenager.
    “Uh-huh,”
I said. “Listen Mom, I’ve got to get going.”
    “Sure
honey,” she sounded distracted again. “I’m working a double and won’t be home
until tomorrow morning. Tell Lacey I said hi.”
    Hanging
up, I pushed down the same vague sense of loss I always felt after talking to
my mother. It was as if every conversation only served to remind me that we’d
lost all of the people we loved. I had tried to explain this to Alex, tried to
describe the tenuous and fragile relationship my mother and I had forged, built
upon the graves of others.
    Alex
had listened empathetically and nodded. “The cupboard is still empty,” she said
knowingly.
    “The
cupboard?”
    “Just
an analogy.” She shrugged. “You’re like a hungry person who keeps opening up
the same empty cupboard, desperately hoping that this time it will be full of
food.”
    She
had looked at me with compassion. “Your mother may never be able to give you
the care or comfort you need, the kind of unconditional affection your Dad gave
you...the cupboard is empty,” she repeated. “Maybe it’s time to look somewhere
else.”
    *           *           *           *           *
    Lacey
was not nearly as difficult as I had feared she would be. As we sat on the
floor of my bedroom eating Thai, she only raised an eyebrow when I tried,
again, to tell her that I had simply wanted to take a day off.
    She
eyed me doubtfully. “Alright, have it your way. I know that look. But,” she
added significantly, “I will be the first person you spill the beans to.”
    I
flashed her a grateful smile.
    Luckily
for me, Lacey was easily distracted and she launched into a description of her
latest art project, a post-feminist sculpture made entirely out of high-heeled
shoes glued together. “I’m calling it No Pain, No Gain,” she said proudly,
pulling out her cellphone to show me the pictures she’d taken of it.
    Relaxing,
I let myself enjoy her company, realizing she was actually going to let it go.
For now.
    Catching
up on each other’s lives over Phad Thai, we fell back easily into the patterns
we had created in childhood, until, glancing at her watch, Lacey jumped up and
checked herself out in the hallway mirror. Today her hair was red, and her
clothes were black. Next week, it would likely be reversed.
    “I’ve
got to go, Ray. There are a bunch of us heading to Gallagher’s tonight.” She
looked hopeful. “I don’t suppose you’ll join us?”
    I
flashed a wan smile. “No,” I said sincerely, “but thank you.”
    Lacey
always asked. I almost always declined.
    She
frowned, but nodded. “Okay, then.” With a quick kiss on my cheek, she left.
    Watching
her from the window, I wanted to call out to her as she made her way down the path.
For one moment I wanted to move as easily through my life as Lacey moved
through hers. But the words caught in my throat and died before they made it to
my lips.
    Not
tonight, I promised myself, but soon.
    *           *           *           *           *
    As
it turned out, I did end up rearranging my bookshelves. My book collection had
expanded beyond the confines of my storage unit once again, and I went through
the stacks, separating what I would keep forever from books that could be
traded in at the used bookstore down the street. Although I worked in a
library, I rarely borrowed books. There was something about the possession of a
book that was important to me. Owning it gave me proprietary rights on the
story. It meant that I could read as