Aster had an incredible gift for wishing— a gift practiced and honed expertly over the years in the absence of any perceived good fortune in her life. She could hope for happiness better than most. Yet no matter how desperately she desired it, not even her zealous ferocity could tuck the sun back under the horizon as morning finally arrived, banishing the night and drawing the sleepless girl from out of her room. The day of Marienne's visit was finally upon them.

"A single hour, Aster. That's all. That's all you need to make it through. Do not give her anything she doesn't ask for— do not try to be clever, and do not give her that attitude of yours.”

Her father was seated beside her on the sofa, hunched forward with a serious, stern gaze as he relayed advice to his daughter, who had thrown herself upon the couch in a heap of exhaustion and anxiety.

All her mind could fixate on in that moment was the desperate desire within her to get through this and return safely to Peppermint Plains. Her heart could hardly withstand the pangs of anxiety that shivered through it with every thought of somehow slipping up and being found out by Marienne and her father.

It couldn't happen, she argued to herself, it couldn't possibly be allowed to. Things were only just getting started in Peppermint Plains. The Love You Forevers had only now started making progress in securing their first big show and she had the tape on Johnny Vallerie. Aster's brows drew sharply inward as she thought upon all the tribulations she had faced thus far. She wasn't going to sit back and have her life torn away by an echo of her mother's cruelty, not with such glimmers of hope shimmering before her.

“Aster, say something,” her father interjected, growing irritated with what he saw as Aster's usual rebellious aloofness. “I don't want to do this either, but going into this angry isn't going to help you.”

Aster's frown deepened. “Then why don't you call it off? Why do we even have to do it if Mom's gone?”

“Because your mother already requested it, Aster. You know full well that there's no going back on wellness checks.”

“And so that's it? We just have to live with it now? You say it's only an hour but you know she's coming back, Dad. She's going to keep coming back until she finds something, even if she has to make it up.”

“I will not let that happen Aster. I promise you.”

Aster could feel the familiar sparkle of wetness welling up from her eyes.

“Then just fucking tell her to not come.”

Her voice broke as she replied.

Her father leaned in further, and placed his hand upon her shoulder, attempting to instill some security in her with a weak shake.

“I wish I could.”

Now at eye level, his gaze met her own. His face conferred to her a look of worry that was normally so smartly hidden away. "I chose Marienne, Aster, because she was an acquaintance of your mother and mine. But that's the only safety I can hedge for us in this. Just because we know her, doesn't mean we know who she is."

It was at that moment that a notification from their front door signaled to Aster and her father that Marienne had finally arrived.

Aster's heart sank into her chest as the familiar weight of anxiety came to rest upon her, hugging her lungs so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Her father, visibly nervous himself, made his way to the door and turned, glancing back one last time to allay the importance of the situation upon his daughter with a look of extraordinary firmness.

With a wave of his hand, the door clicked open and slid aside to reveal Marienne, always meticulously professional in appearance.

"Marienne, good morning. Thank you so much for being here," her father greeted, motioning her into the living room.

"Thank you very much. And thank you doubly Julian, for requesting me by name. Work has been so hard to come by lately."

Her father furrowed his brow in confusion as he took his seat next to Aster, and gestured Marienne towards the recliner.

"Really? Even for a state-appointed therapist like yourself?"

Marienne flared her eyes at this, taken by a reaction of slight disgust. "That title only means less and less when it's given to everyone"

"Well yes, that's true. It's only to be expected for one of the only occupations left to people, I suppose. But still, I would think someone of your skill shouldn't be hurting for work.

“As long as the state knows the health of its people, mental and physical, then it doesn't matter who does the inquiries. Regardless, good morning Aster. How are you? Not used to being up this early I presume?” Marienne gave a slight, playful chuckle.

Aster scowled immediately, which sent her father into a mild panic right out the gate.

"I'm fine," she gave curtly.

Her father sighed with relief.

"Fantastic. Now— I'd like to start with some questions involving the two of you before I ask you Julian to leave us alone for the second half of the session."

Marienne blinked forcefully, bringing up an AR menu with which to notate their answers.

"How is Aster's home life?" she began.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

"Well, generally fine, outside of arguments with her sister," he paused, taking a shallow breath before continuing, "and the recent incident with her mother has caused a bit of turmoil."

"Yes, I read the case file and wanted to touch on that. Aster, how do you feel about all that unfolded between you and your mother?"

Aster met Marienne's waiting expression with a look of reproach. She was startled at how suddenly Marienne cast aside formalities to go straight for the heart of her private matters. So seldom had her feelings been so nakedly pried into that she froze. Such vulnerability terrified Aster deeply.

She glanced at her father, then back to Marienne.

"Uh, I," she stammered. She could feel her face grow red as she tried to grapple with bearing her soft, emotionally underbelly in front of her father and Marienne.

"She deserved it," Aster suddenly put forward.

Unable to bear the risk of eye contact with her father, she gazed off towards the couch in rigid, awkward fashion.

Her father gave no response, aside from shuffling his position.

"She deserved it?" Marienne asked.

"Yes," Aster replied with a stern look, doubling down on her answer, "If you can treat your own child like that, then how can you be trusted to be around anyone else?"

"And how do you feel about it, Julian?"

Aster turned, peering out the corner of her eye to glimpse her father's response to the question.

He looked extremely uncomfortable and had slumped over half-dejectedly. He was visibly musing over his answer.

"Do these questions pertain to Aster's well-being, Marienne?"

"Of course. How you feel pertains to how you interact with your daughter, which of course has an impact on her mood."

He looked away, fidgeting in his seat.

"I feel incredibly sorry that we couldn't help her, and regret that the reason we had to do it was to save our own daughter.”

"Margreta's been bad for a long time, right?"

"Marienne."

"Since shortly after Aster was born, correct? Ironic, since she was always so fond of Aster."

Aster continued to watch out the side of her eye.

She had sight of her father, yet his appearance was totally different to anything she had ever seen of him before. All airs or aura of affability and friendliness had wilted to reveal the stoic, maximally vexed portrait of irritation which now sat beside her.

"I'm sorry, Julian,” gave Marienne half-heartedly, noticing his anger. “These are just the things I have to ask about. I can only help you with a full picture of yourselves, and to do that I need to break the shell at its weak points to get at what's inside."

He did not respond, but only continued to stare silently at Marienne, his face set in a look of firm, silent admonishment.

"Well, starting from after your mother's decline— how was your childhood generally, Aster?"

Aster kept a cautious eye on her father as she thought of a response. He moved very little.

"It was fine."

"Happy?"

"I guess? There was nothing really awful about it."

"I see. Your expression and tone of voice give away nothing but unassuredness however, Aster. Did your mother's decline not affect you?"

Aster openly scowled at this question.

"How should I know? All she's ever been to me is somebody who hates me."

Her father at last broke from his silence at hearing this.

"Your mother doesn't hate you Aster—"

"Then where is she now? If she doesn't hate me then why was her love so indistinguishable from it?”

"Have you ever longed for a present mother figure?" Marienne interjected.

“If I don't know what a present mother figure is, how am I supposed to know if I long for one?”

Aster caught her tongue and grew annoyed with the tremor of uneasiness she felt enveloping her body. She had the intense urge to add that all she was sure of was that she was a miserable person, and so maybe on some subconscious level she did wish for a mother that was there— someone to shoulder some of the burden that had been entirely placed upon her doting father for the entirety of her childhood.

All she had ever known was that her mother was a foul woman whom she did her utmost best to avoid, her childhood memories replete with images of her slim figure skating and kiting from room to room like a misanthropic specter that one took care of to not see face to face.

But the embarrassment of such public emotional vulnerability was far too much for the delicate Aster, who's stomach churned like a violent sea at even considering letting her lips loose before the two of them.

Aster's father, still afire in that great, rare anger, attempted to disarm Marienne as best he could, steering her towards a discussion that Aster had much interest in.

“Alright Julian, I will concede for today. But remember that this is to help the both of you, not just serve as a fun talk. You will have to tread painful feelings in time. But for now let's move on to something less sensitive. Aster, I heard that your father signed you up for guitar lessons— that's wonderful. You don't see too many young people with a desire for learning actual instruments nowadays, do you? Mind telling where that interest grew from?"

Aster couldn't help but open her eyes wide in excitement at being asked this. Though she despised Marienne and deeply distrusted her, the opportunity to be candid about the one thing in the world she unequivocally loved proved to be so strong that any audience would do.

Still, the fact that a large part of her love for music was owed to her father's own love for it— his constant listening to various styles soaking the young Aster in a blanket of influence— rendered Aster an uncomfortable mixture of aloof, excited, and shy in the several seconds of silence between Marienne's question and Aster's eventual cautious, slow answer.

“My dad— he got me into music. When I was little, no matter where I went there was something playing in the house.”

She paused to check her embarrassment. She wished to continue, but she could feel her face growing a shade redder than it had ever flushed before.

“And so, music just became a natural part of me. Like, if it weren't playing and if it ceased to exist then do you realize how silent and unbearable life would become? That's why— that's why the fact that nobody seems to question how everything in our lives has been crafted perfectly for us is so fucked up. Do they not realize we're threatening our very enjoyment of everything? Because what point is there in caring when everything is fucking flawless? Where's the passion? Where's the life? Why don't we fucking treat ourselves as more than just shells looking to be satisfied?”

Aster, having finished her little speech, hung her head in embarrassment. The short silence from her father and Marienne only doubled the feeling. It was always moments like this that proved to Aster in her mind why she was right to keep her thoughts within herself.

After a brief pause, Marienne cleared her voice and began to speak.

“Another bit of irony then, isn't it, that—”

Silence.

Aster looked up, wondering why Marienne had stopped mid-sentence.

Neither of the two gave away anything through their expressions.

“Well Aster, I think it's time now for our one on one. How about it? Julian, if you could be so kind to leave the room for a moment. This shouldn't take too long.”

Her father obliged, rising from the couch silently. His gaze remained settled upon Marienne as he withdrew towards the center of the room, stopping just short of the hallway.

Aster's stomach seized in pain as the obstacle she dreaded the most now towered over her. She remembered clearly the words her father had impressed upon her earlier and was once again conveying to her in his painfully desperate gaze.

His stare, refracting the morning light in shimmering waves of amber as they played upon his irises, told Aster all she needed to know of the stakes before her.