My brain refused to cooperate as it really hit me. Three people had my secret now. I felt like Bonnie, Isaac, and Angie were playing a game of Hot Potato, tossing it back and forth among them. If it dropped, it would explode, sending shrapnel flying in a thousand directions, ruining everything.
“I got nothing,” I said, and handed the phone back.
“Stupid game,” Bonnie said with a muttered laugh, and tossed the phone back in her purse. “So, did you guys find anything good? Are you hungry?”
Angie exchanged a glance with me, then said in a low voice, “She knows you know, Mom.”
Bonnie’s expression immediately smoothed into what I assumed was her Therapist Face. Inviting, friendly and extremely calm. A look that made you feel like she had everything under control, even if you didn’t.
“I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you about that, Willow,” she said. “Although perhaps not at the mall food court.” She shot her daughter a look, then Therapist Face came back. “We don’t have to talk about it here.”
“I don’t want to talk about it at all,” I said.
“That’s fair,” Bonnie replied. “Can I just ask one question? Are you close with your mother at all, Willow? Even a little?”
“You know the answer to that one,” I said. “She’s not really someone you get close to. She keeps herself walled off with wine.”
“I see.”
“And all she really cares about is appearances. How we dress, the house we have, the cars we drive.”
The boys we like…
“Whether or not I go to the right college…”
“Do you have plans for college?”
“That’s two questions,” I said, with a small smile. “Not anymore.”
Bonnie nodded. “I just have one more and I promise I’m done.”
“Mom,” Angie drawled.
“Is that little black X on your wrist related to your assault?”
I glanced down at the table at the in
k below the meat of my left thumb.
“Yes.”
A short silence fell.
“Okay, no more questions, Mom,” Angie said. “Willow will hate me for telling you.”
Bonnie smiled, and Therapist Face was replaced by Super Mom. “Angie said that you were playing Ophelia in the HCT’s production of Hamlet. That sounds exciting. Are you enjoying the experience?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I like it a lot.”
“She loves it,” Angie said. “The play, I mean. I’m just talking about the play, nothing else. I mean, what else would I be talking about?”
I whacked her in the arm.
“Have you ever acted before?”
“No, never,” I said. “I just had this idea that it could help, you know?”
“Express feelings in a safe way?”