Unloved Unclaimed Unbound

Chapter Six - Serenya

Inside I felt like an ant. This estate was overwhelming. Mr. Dravenholt seemed to sense this and indicated for me to follow him. This was... not this is what a home should be, should feel like. I couldn’t take it all in. It is too much for me to process. I just follow Mr. Dravenholt and notice that he is now facing me, his left arm and hand out instructing me to sit in the oversized armchair in front of a large wooden desk. A fireplace, blazing, providing warmth.

“This is my private study,” Mr. Davenholt said as he rounded the desk and sat in his own large desk chair. “I owe you an apology, Serenya. As I said on the plane, we were both deceived. We... I was led to believe that you had known about this for somet ime. Again, clearly, that was not the case.”

I look back at the fire and listen to the crackle for a moment before I say dryly, “Led to believe. That’s a polite way of saying my parents lied.”

“Polite, but accurate. I won’t insult you by pretending otherwise.” He waits to see if I will say something, but I don’t, so he continues. “Right now, I’m not interested in contracts or conservatorships. You’ve had enough decisions made for you. My first priority is to give you something your parents can’t control – space. A voice that’s only yours.”

I finally look at him; my brow furrows slightly. “Space sounds like a new word, just for it to be a false sense of security and will eventually be taken from me, Mr. Dravenholt.”

He smiles slightly, “Please call me Rex. As the cliché goes, Mr. Dravenholt was my father.” He steepled his fingers, “Let me translate. As I said earlier, I will be hiring a private therapist for you to speak to. One who doesn’t answer to your parents, to me or to anyone but you. What you say stays there. No strings. Though, to maintain her obligation to fulfill and maintain practice standards, she will need to document her findings. Just in case, this will need to be brought to court.”

I’m skeptical. “Linda and Glen always used ‘help’ as code for ‘obedience.’ How is this any different?”

Mr. Dravenholt is very much the opposite of Linda and Glen. He is patient, allowing me to question his motives. He says in an even voice, “Because you decide if you go. You decide what to say, you decide how fast or slow. It’s not another leash or chain. What I am offering to you Serenya, is a bolt-cutter.”

I take in a sharp inhale of air. It’s too good to be true. I let the silence linger, and somehow, this silence is soft. I lean my head back against the chair and looked back at the fire. “I know I need it. Like really really need it. I just… I don’t know if I can walk into another room with a stranger and spill my guts without being judged, or it ends up blowing up in my face.”

“No one is asking you to spill anything, and nobody will judge you. Just show up, breathe and speak when you are ready. That is all.” He hesitates, then adds carefully, “As for my family, you’ll meet them eventually. They are already curious about you, but you set the pace. No cold water. No surprises.”

My head still facing the fireplace, I tilted my head up & side eye him, my sense of sarcasm seeming to have a mind and tongue of its own. “Good. Because I’m not exactly in the mood for a welcome party.”

Mr. Dravenholt smiles faintly again, “Then there won’t be one. Step one has been completed: get you somewhere safe. Step two: give you your own voice back. Everything else can wait.”

--

I spent most of the remaining break familiarizing myself with the estate. This morning, I was called into Mr. Dravenholt’s study. Finally, taking in how spacious and deliberate it is. It’s organized, will small touches that show he is passionate. Warm wood panels line the walls to the left with the fireplace as the centerpiece. To the right is a large bookcase that takes up its entirety. But it is the tall window that is overlooking the Appalachian Mountain ridges that takes my breath away.

Mr. Dravenholt explained that I was called into his study to go over the “vetted” list of private therapists. I was told to look them over and choose the one I would like and that my sessions were to be held in the private library here. He handed me a tablet. I stared at it expecting him to tell me the pin to unlock it, instead he swiped his finger across the screen, and it unlocked. I blinked, completely thrown off. I looked back to Mr. Dravenholt, he motioned me to take a seat.

There is a list of final cut approved therapists. I didn’t pay attention to names, I paid attention to photos, bios & qualifications. My blank, emotionless face started to crack as I read through it and I started to frown. “Too smiley… Too corporate… did he use the entire bottle of bread oil?... no, no, nada, Nein, definitely a hell no.”

I heard a deep chuckle from Mr. Dravenholt's desk. Oh, I was entertaining him. I came to a woman who seemed to meet my expectations, but in her bio a line stood out, “specializes in parental mediation and family reunification.” I snorted, tapping to dismiss her profile. “Yeah, okay, because that's what I really need right now is a lecture on how Linda and Glen are just misunderstood. Hard f*****g pass.” I peek up to look at Mr. Dravenholt.

“Ah, you came across Sarah Mullens.” He mused.

I glanced down at the tablet to see if he was correct, completely forgetting I dismissed her profile. He didn’t jump down my throat about the use of profanity. I didn’t let the thought keep me as I came across a young man whose photo didn’t seem like it was touched up, it was just a straightforward headshot. He looked to be in his early 30s, his expression calm but not plastered into a salesmanship grin. “Extensive work with young adults facing transitional trauma, emphasis on autonomy, patient-led pace, confidentiality prioritized above all.”

No promises of miracles. No “family mediation.” No condescension between polite phrases. I bit the corner of my bottom lip. What if he is a fraud? Will I pick it up fast enough? If it isn't, maybe this won’t be a waste of oxygen. I looked at his name, Dr. Mallory Hale. I got up, walked to Mr. Dravenholt's desk pressed select, then handed the tablet back to him.

He glanced down at the tablet and smiled. Not a faint smile, not a small sad smile, not a condescending smile. He looked back at me with steel-gray eyes. “Congratulations, Serenya, I'm proud of you.”

I blinked at him in confusion and shock. Something warm touches my cheek. I bring my fingers to my face & wipe it away. Clear liquid clings to my skin. … This man, who doesn’t know me, who just met me… is proud of me?

I clear my throat, “Um. If you would excuse me Mr. Dravenholt.” I turned and left his study, making my way to the room I was given. Going into the attached bathroom, I turned the shower on, slid down the shower wall, hugging my knees, I cried as the water melted my clothed body.