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and Jade,” Doctor Marlowe added, nodding at each of us. Cathy merely shifted her eyes slightly to glance at us before looking down again. “Cathy, why don’t you sit over there next to Jade,” Doctor Marlowe suggested.
    Cathy looked like she wasn’t going to do it. She hesitated a long moment, staring at the seat as if it would swallow her up, and then finally sat.
    Doctor Marlowe, dressed in a dark-blue pants suit, sat in one of the centrally placed cushioned chairs so she could face all of us. Usually, before a session ended, she would take off her jacket and walk about with her hands clasped behind her. Right now, she pressed her long, thin fingers together at the tips and smiled. My mother would notice that she wore no expensive rings and an inexpensive watch. Mostly, she would notice her fingernails were not polished.
    Doctor Marlowe had a hard smile to read. Her eyes really did brighten with interest and pleasure after some of the things I said, but her face moved so mechanically at times, I suspected everything she did, down to her smallest gestures, was contrived for a planned psychological result. She kept her dirty-blond hair trimmed neatly at her ears. She wore silver clip-on earrings but no necklace. Her milk-white silk blouse with pearl buttons was closed at her throat.
    Our therapist wasn’t particularly pretty. Her nose was a bit too long and her lips too thin. Unlike her older sister, she did have a trim figure, but she was very tall for a woman, at least six feet one. Because her legs were so long, when she sat, the knees came up amusingly high. I think from her waist up accounted for only a third of her body; however, she had long arms so that she could sit back and nearly place her palms over her knees. Perhaps being so awkward had made her concentrate more on being a brain than a beauty.
    My mother often commented about Doctor Marlowe’s hairstyle and clothes, claiming she could do wonders with her if she had a chance to make her over. My mother believed in the miraculous power of hairstylists and plastic surgeons. In her mind they could even achieve world peace. Just get rid of ugly people and no one would argue about anything.
    â€œI assume the three of you had a chance to introduce yourselves,” Doctor Marlowe began.
    â€œBarely,” Jade replied, the words dripping out of the corner of her mouth.
    â€œGood. I want us to do all the talking and revelations here together.”
    â€œI still don’t understand what we’re doin’,” Star snapped. “We haven’t been told much and some of us,” she added glaring at Jade, “aren’t exactly happy about it.”
    â€œI know, Star, but a lot of this has to do with trust. If we don’t take small risks, we’ll never make progress and get anywhere.”
    â€œWhere we supposed to be goin’?” she demanded.
    I laughed.
    Jade’s beautiful lips folded into a small smile and Cathy nearly lifted her gaze from the floor.
    â€œHome,” Doctor Marlowe replied, those eyes filling with an almost impish glee as she rose to the challenge. “Back to yourself, Star. Back to who you are supposed to be, who you want to be. Back to good weather, out of the storms, out of the cold angry rain, out from under those dark clouds,” she continued.
    When she spoke like this in her soft, therapist’s melodic voice, she sounded so good, none of us could prevent ourselves from listening. Even Cathy looked up at her, as if she held out the promise of life and happiness and all Cathy had to do was reach for it.
    â€œAway from the pain,” Doctor Marlowe continued. “That’s where we’re supposed to go. Ready for that, Star?”
    She glanced at me and just nodded.
    â€œGood.”
    â€œThis is going to be simple, girls. You’re all going to do most of the talking. I’m really just a listener, and when one of you is speaking, the others will listen