Therapist's office, late afternoon. Simply but cozily furnished in light greens and browns. A large soft couch and two varieties of chairs are available for the clients. ATHENA sits on the edge of the couch today, her arms wrapped around her midsection, fingers playing with a fidget ring out of a box on the low table. Her therapist, IRENE PHELAN, middle aged, hair in a bun, is sitting on a chair diagonally from her. She writes into a notebook instead of on a clipboard, after the first few session she let Athena pick the cover of hers.
IRENE: So you were homesick basically from the moment you stepped into the school.
Athena shrugs.
ATHENA: I guess, yeah. I didn't wan- I didn't get why I had to go there when there was a school so close to our house.
IRENE: Did your parents explain it to you, do you remember?
ATHENA: Yeah... The term "good reputation" doesn't mean that much when you're six, I suppose.
Irene nods.
IRENE: Not commonly, no. Were you angry?
ATHENA, shifting uncomfortably: No... no, I don't think so. I didn't... I didn't have a tantrum or something like that, I just cried a lot.
IRENE: Before, or at school?
Athena bites her lip.
ATHENA: Both.
She looks down as if she's ashamed.
ATHENA, faster, almost apologetic: My Mom comforted me when she knew. She made sure I always had snacks with me and all that, and after the school didn't let me call home once because they said I was being dramatic, she went there and told them they had to let me whenever I wanted.
Irene lets it linger for a moment to make sure Athena is done.
IRENE: This sounds like your Mom knew you were unhappy to a degree and she tried to accommodate you within her capabilities. Whatever she could do without removing you from the school altogether.
ATHENA, nodding: Yes. She couldn't really get me out, my Dad decided and she didn't have custody at the time. They fought about it a few times.
She looks down again, the ring moving faster between her fingers.
Irene watches for a moment.
IRENE: I suspect my next question will be interpreted as blame by your mind, so let me make clear that either way, you are not to blame for having to stay in the school even though it was very hard on you. She smiles mildly. Did you ever try to tell your parents you wanted to switch schools? After they explained it to you?
Athena's jaw clenches briefly, then she smiles bitterly.
ATHENA: Yes. I didn't... I didn't go to Mom because I understood she couldn't decide it and I didn't want them to fight anymore. She shrugs uncomfortably as if trying to get rid of the memory. I went to my Dad, though. A month or maybe two in... or maybe it was around Christmas, I'm not sure. She huffs, almost a laugh, but joyless. I had a paper, I remember that, and I had made a list, as nicely written as I could at the time, of why I didn't like it and wanted to stay home and go to the other school. Y'know, things like 'I don't like the food', 'The other girls think being smart is a bad thing.', 'I wanna play with Ares more.', 'I miss getting a bedtime story at night.', that stuff.
She hugs herself more tightly.
IRENE, gently: How did your father react?
Athena shifts again.
ATHENA: I don't remember all of it. He- I don't think he understood that I wasn't asking for a toy that I didn't really need, I suppose it's hard to discern what a 6-year-old is serious about. I remember- I remember he said that if the other girls didn't get that brains were important, that was their loss, and I never had to be ashamed about that. That I was a strong girl and this would make me even stronger.
For a moment, Irene looks like she's about to knock someone out with a child psychology textbook, but she keeps it together.
IRENE: Not the most empathetic way to approach a child who's outright telling you they're struggling, is it?
Athena draws a shuddering breath. For a moment, she wants to downplay, but then she just shakes her head.
ATHENA, breathily: Not really.
Irene wordlessly slides over a tissue box even though the young woman isn't crying yet.
IRENE: Athena, would you guess, or do you even know maybe, that this made you more hesitant to ask about similarly important things in the future?
Athena looks up, grey eyes slightly damp. She hesitates, then nods.
ATHENA: When it's important to me, you can almost bank on it that it's not what he wants for me. I- I don't have to ask for permission anymore, so... it's better, I guess. It's- he didn't want me to have it- to have it this hard. He just didn't understand...
Her voice trails off as if she's struggling to get the words out. A tear runs down her cheek and she wipes it off. Irene unobtrusively writes something down and gives her a moment.
