I want to move forward from this excrement. I know they’re irrational questions. But I still have them. I don’t want them. And I don’t want to keep harkening back to my anger. It’s not worth my time! It’s not worth the recurring angst. I want to be present. I want more snow globe–worthy moments. I want to be happy.

I don’t want to see Dr. Sparrow. But I don’t know how to let all of this go! I clearly can’t do it on my own.

When I head into the kitchen around 9 a.m. for a fresh ice pack, I dig into my mother’s purse. She’s been in her room since we got home. I slip out her insurance card, snap a picture, head upstairs, and dial the number on the back.

After tapping through a bunch of menus, I speak with a human. At the end of our conversation, the insurance company emails me a list of therapists that are in our network.

I pull open my laptop and scroll through the email, pulling out the women and pasting them into a doc. My eyes stop on one name in particular: Dr. Donya Wendell. I pull up a new window and google her name.

A familiar face pops up.

85. A Girl Is Not Sure How to Proceed

JAMIE

September 9, Wednesday

New Jersey

Papa leaves the house early to go to church, despite how late we were up last night. Once he’s gone, I head down the hall to the tiny old pink-tiled bathroom and glare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is dark and bleh. I’m paler than ever. I’m literally transitioning into a shadow.

Okay, not literally.

I’m … drowning in a well of self-pity. Gag.

I dress in the overalls from yesterday—I’m never wearing another pair of black leggings if I can help it.

There’s a salon I passed multiple times near QCZ last week—that’s where I’m heading today.

As I walk through the city, I take note of a NOW HIRING window at an independent movie theater. I purse my lips, looking up at the CINEMA LAND sign across the top of the marquee. That could be fun.

86. Angst and Support

SIRI

September 9, Wednesday Afternoon

New Jersey

“I am so glad you reached out, Siri,” Donya says with genuine enthusiasm after I’ve spent forty-five minutes letting all my problems spill out of me. Today, she’s in a maroon sweater and dark jeans with her hair down. She has an office in the city, and when I called, she said she would fit me in today.

I nod, staring down at the white sneakers Grams got me.

“The way I see it, there are a couple of options you have moving forward, and neither is inherently right or wrong. It’s all up to you and what will make you the happiest.”