Confusion slammed through me because they had refused to come earlier. I ran down the hallway and reached the room just as my mother sat beside Kayla’s bed smiling politely.
“Well you look perfectly fine to me,” Susan said to Kayla with a rehearsed expression.
Kayla blinked uncertainly. “The doctor said my appendix almost burst and that was dangerous,” she explained.
Doctors exaggerate problems because it makes them seem important,” my father added casually.
Something in my chest tightened as I stepped forward. “You should not be having this conversation right now because Kayla needs rest,” I said firmly.
Susan ignored me completely and leaned toward Kayla. “Your mother mentioned that you have been seeing a therapist for anxiety and that concerns us,” she began calmly.
Kayla glanced at me nervously. “Yes I talk with a therapist because sometimes my thoughts get overwhelming,” she admitted softly.
My father crossed his arms with visible irritation. “Children should not need therapy unless something is wrong with them,” he declared.
“You are upsetting her and you need to leave immediately,” I said sharply.