“Yes, if I see you unconsciously acting out patterns of socialization ingrained in you by your family of origin, I will point them out and suggest that you contemplate applying critical thinking to the situation.” Carys grinned and stuck out her tongue. “How’s that shit for therapy?”

Greta was too grateful even to laugh. “Very impressive. Thank you.”

“And I know it’s hard for you, but you can just say what you want too,” Carys said. “I’ll always respect it.”

Greta was propelled to her feet. She began to pace the living room. Carys looked up at her.

“I can,” Greta said. “I can.”

“It takes some practice if you’re not used to it. I really get that,” Carys said sympathetically.

“It’s so wild, because I know that I could just say what I wanted. But it feels so rude or selfish or something. But then I’m like, why on earth would it be selfish to ask for what you want? It’s not like you’re putting a gun to someone’s head and making them do it if they don’t want to. Right? Like, how fucked up is it that in my family, people don’t ask for what they want, and they do the opposite of what people say because they know no one is asking for what they actually want? What the hell?”

Carys nodded the instantly recognizable nod of someone who has been through the same process of coming to understand. “It’s so real. Families have these whole cultures of communication, and when you’re in it, it’s totally normal. Bonus points if it happens to work for everyone in that family. But it’s often not transferable across family lines. Like, when I started college, I assumed that anyone who asked me about myself would use that information against me someday. So to avoid it, I would lie and tell them stuff that wasn’t true, so when they inevitably tried to mess with me because of it, it wouldn’t hurt me. Needless to say, I spent my first couple years of college without any friends, because I just didn’t trust anyone or connect with them legitimately.”

Greta nodded, listening closely.

“I had to teach myself, like, oh, okay, not everyone is the way your mother is, so you can’t treat them like they are. And it was so damn hard, but over the next two years, I really made an effort to interrogate my thoughts every time I fell into that way of thinking. Anyway, you can do it. It just takes work.”

“Can I tell you something true?” Greta asked.

“Always.”

Greta’s heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a trickle of sweat run down the base of her spine. “I want to move here.”

She said it simply and clearly and without explanation.

A slow, delighted smile crept across Carys’ lips. “I want you to too.”