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bathroom into my bedroom still pushing mom and Uncle Gabriel out of the way as if they were fixtures in her way.  
    “But why?”  I ask between my tears trying to distract myself. 
    “Oh, every night I lather my hands with lotion, and put the socks on, and that keeps my skin smooth as a baby’s bottom. One of my beauty secrets,” she dazzles, “which reminds me, you didn’t shower in very hot water, did you? It’s bad for your skin, you know.”
    “Stella!” barks Uncle Gabriel exasperated. 
    She turn s around to him and says, “Well, it  is  bad for her skin. It loosens it. Just before you get out of the shower, turn the water to cold and let it run over your skin, ok? It completely tightens it. Two minutes tops. You’ll thank me when you’re older!” 
    Sarah rubs her temples as if she is ready to explode with the biggest migraine headache she’s ever experienced. Uncle Gabriel clears his throat uncomfortable with the way the conversation is going and gently asks, “Ellie, do you mind telling us what happened?”
    I’m not sure if I can share this with them. They’re definitely going to think that I am “crazy,” I worry. But, my trust in Stella fights with my personal doubts that Stella would ever do that. Despite how small Stella is, she guides me on to my bed, sitting me down and hugging me protectively. I hold onto her, just completely spent.
    “I thought I saw blood on the shower wall,” I whisper.  
    “Blood?” The three of them ask at the same time. 
    “Yes, like in my dream. Fist marks and blood.”  
    Stella understands immediately, Sarah doesn’t and she finally says, “This is too much for me to handle. I am traumatized here! I think I will make an appointment with Dr. Newman.” She turns her back all flustered to leave to get to her room to arrange for that appointment.  I sigh exasperated. I have to move out of this house, away from her, and soon. 
    Stella shouts with authority: “You stop right there! Did you ask your daughter if that was ok before making an appointment with that creepy shrink? Ellie doesn’t like him!”  
    “I’m her mother! I know what’s best! She needs help! I am traumatized with her...” she searches for a word that wouldn’t be as offensive and she finally settles on, “her condition!” accompanied by a face that looks martyred.  
    “Miss Sarah…isn’t it convenient for you to declare yourself a victim in every situation? This one is actually not about you,” resonates Stella with a calm control I have not seen in her  before. She then turns to my uncle. A silent conversation passes between the two. My uncle turns to my mom, escorting her out of my room. As soon as they were out of the earshot, Stella turns to me and asks,
    “What clothes can I bring for you to wear today?” she asks, completely surprising me.  
    “Oh, I can do that Stella, thank you!” I answer.  
    “You know I like to spoil you   s'il vous plait!  But how about that? You get dressed, and come down to the kitchen to help me sort some green beans.” 
    “ Andrew doesn’t like us invading his kitchen,” I say trying to smile. 
    “I’m sure our presence will be tolerable,” she says. “I’ll go change , too. Meet me in the kitchen in 10 minutes.”
    “I don’t have a lot of time today Stella. I have a job interview in LA this afternoon. I have to get ready and then drive.”
    “Job interview?” she asks turning on her heels.
    “Yes, you know I graduated last week. I need a job.”
    “You’ll have a trust fund when you turn 25!” she says.
    “Which is four years away,” I say shrugging, “and frankly, I don’t want it. Sarah keeps bringing it up, that it’s her parents’ money. I don’t care for it. I think that’s why she keeps forcing me to go to her shrink. I don’t want to be certified crazy because she cares for the money more than she does for me. I need to make my own living. I need to move out of town, LA, New York, Paris,