“Yet, wouldn’t you also agree you started getting better once you stopped letting them take up such a big part of your life?”

“They’ll always take up a big part of my life.”

“So, you don’t blame them?”

“For what?” I asked, raising a single brow.

“The way they treated you after your brother died.”

“You make it sound as though they’re horrible people.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“They did the best they could. Everyone did,” I said, somewhat annoyed.

“Everyone’s best included leaving you to handle things by yourself. And I don’t mean just your friends.”

“My best included a razor blade and shards of glass. What’s your point?”

“That wasn’t your best,” she said, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t?”

“It was your saddest.”

“Look, I don’t blame anyone.” I thought it best to clarify.

“You know that’s not true.”

“Fine, I don’t blame anyone else, then.”

“Do you think you’ll ever forgive yourself?”

“I dunno.” I shrugged.

“Don’t you think you should?”

“I really don’t. No,” I told her truthfully.

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t change anything, does it? I’m sick of trying to fix shit that has no consequence.”

“The guilt you carry—”

“—is mine,” I said, making sure I looked her dead in the eyes.

“Don’t you think other areas of your life would benefit from you forgiving yourself?”

“I refuse not to take responsibility for what I do.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” she asked.

I didn’t answer her.

“Why should you take responsibility for everything?” she pressed.

“I never said I—”

“Shouldn’t your parents do the same? Or your friends, for that matter?”

“I don’t— I can’t speak for them.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She was starting to piss me off.

“You should consider the possibility that your reluctance to acknowledge their role is damaging.”

“I’m not going to be one of those people who assign blame and never try to work their own shit, Alicia.”

“You mean, take responsibility?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Since when is that bad?”

“It isn’t,” she said. “But when you incorporate everyone else’s, then it can turn into a problem.”

Before I could respond, however, she changed the subject.

“Now,” she said, shifting in her seat. “This boy.”

“What about him?”

“Was it him? The one responsible for you starting to recover?” She emphasized the word “recover” just to spite me.

“He helped,” I said, then corrected myself, “helps.”

It made her smile. “In what way?”

“That’s too broad a question,” I said, shaking my head.

“All right. Let me be more specific, then. Are you aware of your feelings toward him?”

“You know I am.”

“In terms of depth, I mean. Is he a crush? Is it…casual?”

I snorted. “I thought for a second there you were gonna say fling.”

“Well, is he?”

“No.” I furrowed my brow.

“So, it’s serious.”