Happy Families by Tanita S. Davis

essentially figured out between the two of them how the rest of our lives will go, at least until we leave home.
    So, what’s the point?
    “I think we’ve made a good start today,” Dr. Hoenig says, looking up at Dad as we stand on the landing in front of her back door. “Take care, Nicholas family.”
    “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Dad says, and my jaw drops.
    “We’re not doing this every day, are we?” I ask. Dad and Dr. Hoenig just smile, Dr. Hoenig with sympathy, and then we’re out the door and down the stairs.
    Justin manages to be out in front, jogging down the stairs while Dad holds me to a more leisurely pace.
    “This hasn’t been that bad, has it, Belly?” Dad asks over his shoulder.
    “Don’t call me that.” I clutch my bowl and glare at him.
    “Sorry,” Dad says, raising his hands defensively. “Habit, Ysabel.”
    I give him a disgusted look and push past him down the stairs.
    My father takes his sweet time getting to the car, twirling his keys around his finger. Justin and I are waiting impatiently for him as he uses the remote, which unlocks the doors with a subdued click.
    “Well, gang, it’s a little bit early for lunch”—Dad raises his voice as he climbs into the front seat—“but I thought we could take in a matinee or something. Unless anyone else has a suggestion?”
    “Seriously?” I glance at Justin. Dad’s never taken us to a matinee; he’s more of a DVD-at-home type of guy, mainly because he’s too cheap to spring for theater popcorn, and he talks to the characters on-screen, as if they can hear him.
    “There’s nothing good out.” Justin shrugs and puts on his seat belt.
    “That doesn’t matter,” I widen my eyes in a pointed stare at my brother, simply eager not to return to Dad’s silent, sterile apartment. “Do we get popcorn?”
    My father chuckles. “Yes, Ysabel, you can have your popcorn, but save some room; we’re going to a Mexican grill for lunch, because God knows, the two of you need to eat some vegetablesafter last night.” He puts the key in the ignition. “Or there’s The Raven, a little independent theater that sometimes shows double features of old monster flicks. Shall we see if they’re open?”
    “Why do you want to go to the movies?” Justin asks, crossing his arms.
    My father leans back against the driver’s seat and sighs. “Honestly, Justin? Because right now, sitting in a dark room is about all I’m good for.”
    My brother shrugs and looks out the window.
    “Hey”—Dad leans around the driver’s seat again—“that was a joke, Buddy. This movie thing is just one option. If you’d rather we went somewhere and talked, we can do that.”
    I make an exasperated noise. “You can drop me off at the movies if you do,” I warn him. “I’m through talking.” I turn and glare at my brother.
    Justin looks at me, anger and guilt and apology in his expression. “I’m sorry, but a movie just seems like a waste of time,” he says tightly. He turns to Dad. “I mean, isn’t there supposed to be some point to this? What are we supposed to be doing here? What is seeing a therapist supposed to accomplish? Is that why you aren’t wearing a dress?”
    I suck in a quiet breath, not sure if I’m scared or glad Justin doesn’t believe in subtle.
    Dad smiles a little. “No, Justin, I’m sorry to disappoint you; it’s not about Dr. Hoenig. I’m not wearing a dress because I don’t want to right now.”
    Justin makes a disbelieving noise, and my father rubs his face and sighs.
    “Okay, Justin. Look—first, this is your vacation—I haven’t forgotten that. I want us to have some fun. Second, we’re meetingwith Dr. Hoenig in the hopes that she’ll make it easier for all of us to say the things to each other that we need to say. Finally—I repeat—I am not wearing a dress because I don’t want to at the moment. This week is about you and Ysabel. I care more about your comfort than my wardrobe. Are we clear?”
    Justin looks